Better than a cup of gold

A few weeks ago we were in Newcastle and happened to wander into Fenwick’s, a proper old school department store. I was looking for a shirt and decided against a Vivian Westwood because it made me look like a twat. We found ourselves in the food hall, I bought a pie and some bread and a few other bits and bobs… then I spotted some Charbonelle and Walker chocolates, Rose and violet creams. They’re MLSOH’s favourites, so we added them to the basket and went home.

When we opened them they looked like they’d been in there for about 5 years, manky looking with a pale bloom. I emailed photos to Fenwick’s and C&W. Fenwick’s completely ignored me, but C&W emailed back and said they would send us some new ones. After a couple of weeks without a delivery I emailed them again, they said they had sent them, but they would send some more. The second lot arrived just as our next door neighbour brought round the little red card from the first lot, it had got mixed up in his mail. I emailed C&W and told them, offering to pay for the second box. They replied that it was fine and we should enjoy them with their compliments.

I suppose that was a long winded way of saying there is still some good customer service out there, Charbonelle and Walker excelled, Fenwick’s fucked it right up… and people wonder why department stores are a dying breed.

 

Is life always like this, brother?

An Old Fashioned should be made with Rye, not Bourbon. But you try getting one when you’re out and about, it’s nye on impossible. Rye is softer and more refined, bourbon is made from corn, it’s in your face and brash… and, in most cases it’s fucking awful, especially Jack Daniels.

What’s more, the average bar tender hasn’t a fucking clue about chemistry. Sugar won’t dissolve in alcohol, which is why an Old Fashioned has a splash of soda. The finished article should be sweet, with a hint of orange and a big old kick of whisky.

Ogden Nash felt so strongly he wrote a poem, one of my favourites, this is one verse.

My recipe, and there’s photos on the cocktail page, is…

Add one teaspoon of agave syrup in the bottom of a tumbler, and add a splash of soda. Dissolve the sugar and add a couple of drops of orange bitters. Add a good glug of a decent Rye whisky. Add ice and a slice of orange and give it a stir. Top up with Rye and add a cherry.

We are the custard pie appreciation consortium

Following on from my micro rant yesterday, I would like to expand on the whole shopping experience, in fact it’s anywhere you go that necessitates coming in to contact with the general fucking public.

Twice, in a lift in Carlisle, once going up and then again coming down. They stand right in front of the door, then look at you like you just suggested Alan Titchmarsh was a rapist. Physics is pretty clear on the whole “two people occupying the same space at the same time” thing, it isn’t fucking possible. So, to facilitate your entry into the lift, you have to fucking let us out first.

Most shops try to maximise their floor space these days, it’s a key measure. This means there isn’t a great deal of room in the aisles, so I make eye contact and step to one side to let the person through…. and they stop half way to look at a rack… you complete fucking twat!

I’m sure you’re familiar with this one… two men, two women, and two shopping trolleys, usually near a door or the intersection of an aisle. With a fuck load of the rest of us trying to get past. You just stand there and chat, we’ll all fucking struggle past. They seem to be right into it too, maybe Dave should invite Jean Claude, get the Brexit negotiations sorted right out…. Twats!

By far the worst crime… ok, I’m aware they aren’t crimes, but I would gladly put some of these fuckers in the stocks and through hard fruit at them… is the door thing. I was brought up to hold doors for people, not just women, anyone who happens to be behind me. I also say thank you if someone does it for me. Neither of these two things costs anything. So, why do a good percentage of people see fit to do the fucking opposite? Is it so difficult to lift your fucking head and acknowledge that there are other people in the world? Ignorant, selfish, fucking cock wombles.

A quarter pound of sense

Being a cunt hat works, fuck everyone.

A very poorly attended tory conference witnessed, probably the worst prime minister since the last one, deliver a speech, breathtaking in its vacuousness, partly plagiarised from the West wing, punctuated with coughs and full of rehashed broken promises and things stolen from the Labour manifesto.

She, and her party, have absolutely no intention of capping energy prices, it goes against everything they believe in the free market, and would be an admission that privatisation doesn’t work.

She’s finished, and while that makes me happy, the prospect of either Gove, Johnson, or Mogg being in charge, sends a cold shiver down my spine. 3 millionaire careerists without a single fuck for anyone else but themselves. I did miss out Rudd from that list, a tax avoiding, off-shore banking harpy, who just so happens to be in contempt of court and somehow manages to remain at large. Well she is in control of the police. She’s just employed Linton Crosby, so she’s definitely in the running, but I think the old boys club will see her off.

What a shower of shite, and proof that being a cunt hat does work.

 

This bird you cannot change

After working in industry for over 30 years I can say with confidence that throwing floor chicken back in the process is no easier than launching it in the bin. Your average process worker gives a shit, and wants to do a decent job. This issue, along with changing dates is, without doubt, a management directive. It has all the hallmarks of a half arsed cost saving idea. Changing labels is a proper pain, and you don’t do it unless you’ve been told to.

Years ago I visited a meat processing plant, they made sausages and pies and other meat based processed food. The fork lift truck had a shovel attachment, and at the end of the shift the supervisor would get one of the lads to run it round the factory, scraping up all the bits of meat, along with bits of pallet and whatever else had been trodden in from outside. The contents of the shovel went into the cheap sausage mix.

The reason this happens is supermarket driven. Supplier prices are forced down, companies make minimal profit and will save costs wherever possible.

Think about this… Tesco turn over their stock value every 24 hours, but don’t pay for anything for 60 days. Why do you think they delayed pulling 2 Sisters products? Money is all these companies care about. If it wasn’t, their practices would have changed after the horse meat fiasco.

Standing on the cast iron shore, yeah

There is a conundrum, and it’s on the right hand menu for you to solve.

It’s in several parts and it’s neither easy nor hard. There are no such things as difficult questions, you either know the answer or you don’t. If you don’t…

Intelligence, lateral thinking, call it what you will, a holistic process will help.

Creativity and cooperation will win the day.

Go and find Cicerone, tell him the Walrus sent you

Now I know how Joan of arc felt

Boris has actually said “Sirte (Libya) will be a beautiful place, once they clear away the dead bodies”. This is our foreign secretary. Already living up to Theresa’s request for fewer “yes” men. How about “you’re a fucking insensitive, vile cunt, devoid of any compassion, removed from reality and intent on making this country into a laughing stock… you’re fired!”

Bear Grylls has politicised the scouts, he rocked up in uniform and tried to blag £50m, in what amounted to a “scouts can combat radicalisation” pitch. A man who drinks his own piss.

I actually can’t get my head around what Boris has said…. how can anyone think that’s acceptable? Fucking hell!

A pig, in a cage, on antibiotics

I remember “Way down” being on Totp. I was never a massive Elvis fan but this one must have moved my eleven year old self, because I taped it off the top 40. My gran passed the comment “oh, he must have recorded this before he died”. The sarcasm was palpable from the old fella, but my thought was about how old people perceive time. Maybe things aren’t linear for an eighty one year old woman, maybe she understood string theory or quantum mechanics? None of these things actually occurred to me at the time, I just thought it was a very odd thing to say. But, in a household where my mother tried for weeks to clean a shadow off the bathroom sink, I didn’t over think it. It did stick in my mind though, and I came to the conclusion it was just a woman who was born when Victoria was on the throne, trying to come to terms with a very confusing modern world. This made me ponder what my Elvis comment would be.

It may have something to do with these machines you get in your home that talk to you. You can ask them for cat food, or to dim your lights… I don’t have a cat, and good luck dimming the lights, if you look at these new style bulbs askew they fucking blow. This made me wonder what it could actually do for us. Our fridge isn’t connected to the internet, nor is our central heating. I can’t fucking abide the radio, and I’m not sure what else it can do… apart from report back all our habits to a company that will sell the info to a direct advertising company. TV adverts will be different for everyone in years to come, tailored to your last conversation… yeah, the one where you slag off half your family, berate certain friends for the crap wine they brought round, then have a conversation that would probably see you in court for slander and breaching at least five protected characteristics.

I think, for now, we’ll stick to getting off our arses to switch the lights off, going to the shop with a list and not having the radio on. That way we can talk about what we like and you’ll never know.

We should take a bus to somewhere else

News reports of yet another mass shooting in America brings up all sorts of thoughts and emotions. The usual platitudes seem to have very little meaning when it’s every few weeks. The way the news reports these things seem ineffectual. “People are shocked” really? A country that voted to allow the mentally ill to own guns is shocked by the 274th multiple shooting in the last 275 days. I would have been shocked on that one day that didn’t have one. Things won’t change because the ideology will never change. A country that didn’t do anything after Sandy Hook will do nothing, and it doesn’t matter how loudly they shout, the NRA pay people to shout louder. The tangerine cunt puffin currently pretending to be president will read poorly from a teleprompt, but in the face of damning statistics, will make it easier and easier to get a gun. Arming the good guys. It worked in The man who shot Liberty Valance, but life isn’t Hollywood.