Hungry

In the hurry to leave the house for this morning's school run and journey to work I forgot my lunch, I forgot cash (the cash my wife got for me yesterday evening) and…

Having nothing edible in my desk drawer for the first time in weeks I'm sat here now looking at a vending machine 'Hot chicken soup', and wondering if its calorific value will be adequate to sustain me for the next 5 hours.

Hey, a bonus, this time it's actually not heated water with bits of green stuff floating on the surface layer of micro-froth.

(sips slowly, smacks lips, mmmm…)

Bourbon

Ah… I remember the days when getting home and having one meant chomping on a nice, brown biscuit sandwiching a buttercream filling: the Bourbon Cream.

Nowadays I see and hear an amber-coloured liquid sloshed carefully into a thistle-shaped glass, with an ice cube lovingly plopped on top. Things are very different now.

Stop Making Sense

Aw crap, the cat's looking at me in that way again. Not sure where my uncontrollable giggling came from there, but he's right to look askance.

Or am I not sure‽

Ok, ok. Buffalo Trace Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey with a single ice cube in a thistle-shaped glass bought for me by my wife-to-be on March 26th 2005, accompanied very loudly indeed by The Pump Panel remix of New Order's 'Confusion' and then Talking Heads' Stop Making Sense album, they might be something to do with it. The latter songs take me back, what…

Forty.

Years.

To the time I first heard 'em.

1977 seems a bit early though, being honest. 35 years ago is maybe getting there, around the time of the best music documentary film ever. That seems a bit short though, I'm sure I heard 'em first before they became popular in the UK. Maybe. Dunno.

Shut up Barrie.

#beendrinking

Drunkard

Today, for lots of reasons, I felt the need for a little alcoholic refreshment, and so it happened that I had half a glass of coffee liqueur; from a small, thistle-shaped whisky glass bought for me in March 26 2005 by the lovely vibrant lady who was destined to be my poor, downtrodden wife and the mother of my 2 girls, 2 cats and a dog.

I've been practically teetotal for a few years now even by my standards; I've always been a lightweight, never needed alcohol, never had the bladder or ambulatory capacity to soak up the stuff. A few stubby bottles, maybe once or twice a day until they're gone; a bottle of whisky that lasts weeks; and all with extended periods between simply because I've not needed booze.

I manfully resisted the allure, the convenience of and 'Amazon Prime Now' shop earlier, knowing that I don't need it today. I never have done.

But today, today it was indeed appropriate; I had the half glass, washed it out and left it to drain. In a few minutes I shall have another, and then call it quits.

If I can still understand the voice in my head telling me I don't need it, that is.

Toblerone

A Toblerone bar has the enviable position of being a luxury product for a lot of people; velvety-smooth with chewy sweetness on the tongue, idiosyncratic in design, and with a long, long history.

There's the expectation that, once one figures out how to open the box, breaking off a piece of nougat-speckled chocolate will be difficult. The ever-present fear of broken teeth, the danger inherent in inexpertly wielded knives whilst attempting block separation; it's all part of a process distinct from eating any other chocolate.

But tradition is a powerful thing.

As the cost of production and ingredients inevitably increases, and the pack size reduction is touted, spurious, as bringing health benefits, companies invent ways to cut corners, mainly by decreasing pack size whilst maintaining the amount the customer pays. In reducing the manufacturing costs the logical choice would have been to reduce the length of the bars. Competing 'staple' bars have already set a precedent.

But no. The company looks to have removed every other peak from the bars. The result is frankly ridiculous.

Its obvious whoever signed off on it had no idea of the repercussions. Premium products surely mandate price increases?

If, for instance, the Coca-Cola company decided to alter the recipe there'd be uproar. Ok, that's a bad example; whilst the Toblerone recipe may not have been touched, generations of gift-givers and receivers have expectations of CONTINUITY.

Tradition, continuity, expectation; killed at a stroke.

I'm not impressed. I'll be interested to see whether there's an embarrassed climb-down in the near future, or whether the brand'll simply disappear – rationalised out of existence by the parent company as a product of a bygone age.

Toblerone: 1908-?

Kebab

I went online and ordered a kebab and a few other things earlier. 'Twas delicious, but bloody hell that sauce was a bit spicy!

A riddle:

My first is in 'Internet',

My second is in 'lounge',

My third is in 'eating',

My fourth is in 'full',

My fifth is in 'gurgle',

My last is in, er… I'll be right back!

Phew!

So what am I… ?

Yeah, ok, I'm sat on the toilet for a bit.

Will use again. Why? Life: a series of paradoxes linked together by uncertainty. Its good to be grounded every once in a while.

Biscuits

We have an office custom; on or around one's birthday one brings along cakes, pastries, biscuits or even better (depending on the significance of the number) and shares with immediate colleagues & all-and-sundry. I'm no different; this year I bought 1kg of shortbread biscuits and placed then at the allotted, er… place.

3 hours after arrival they've nearly all gone. I got it right. It feels good.

Thanks to those who wished me a happy birthday, even though my rationale for not bringing stuff in on the day sounded a bit lame. At least the Amazon Prime Now explanation went down well (see yesterday's 'Order' post) – as did the biscuits.

Now, those who just take and walk off are bad enough. There's nothing worse though than someone inquiring whose birthday it is, then walking either away or past one's desk. Eating a biscuit!

Ungrateful, ignorant, self-entitled bast[CARRIER LOST]

Hic

Right now I feel as if I've melted. I've been drinking wine; half a bottle of a rather nice Merlot. It's a 'Turner Road' or 'Turner's Road' or something, my vision's a bit blurry now too. I must also apologise in advance if this post makes more sense than the usual…

I say it's a 'rather nice' wine but, to be honest, it's not an objective statement based on what other people think, it's simply one I like. Don't get me wrong, I read reviews of red wines, Scottish single malt whiskies, preground coffees for my AeroPress, cars, computers, USB drives, NASs, dog and cat toys, TV stands… and occasionally even buy stuff rather than indulging myself with procrastination.

Other folks' opinions are of course important to me, but I'm my own man. I was my own man even as a boy. Family life is attempting to beat that out of me; resistance is futile…

I spent quite some time choosing mt prefect whisky: a Laphroaig 15-year-old; first tasted on a cruise down the River Nile, now available only as a special edition, far beyond my budget. If I had a big birthday coming up I could perhaps flutter my eyelashes in the hope someone'd buy me one. But even I shudder at that prospect despite my innate sense that' I'd be worth it.

So, this Merlot has achieved something a few hours of productive coding this weekend failed to. A sense of achievement.

No, I don't understand either.

Depleted

Not exactly a perfect storm of events, not by any means; nevertheless, we ran out of:

  • Cat litter,
  • Dog food,
  • Dog treats,
  • Cat treats,
  • Carpet urine absorber powder,
  • Dog toys even vaguely resembling their initial, as-purchased, state.

It's Ruby Dog's first birthday on Wednesday; a visit to the pet superstore is perhaps in order.

This, though I might refer to it in the store, is not a shopping list.

Hawaiian

** Newsflash!! **

Dateline: Right now!

We have a simply great work custom: anyone having a birthday brings in food and shares it with all. Today, 4rthur* (thanks 4nne* for cooking & laying it all out) brought a particularly rich spread, pizzas, cake, pork pies, some, er… tasty things…

I just ate a couple of slices of a Hawaiian pizza.

(pause for effect…)

And again I liked it.

To recap; if you read my recent 'Pineapple' post, you'll see I introduced a foodstuff (pineapple) positioned diametrically opposite to my views on the addition of fruit to savoury meals.

I'm not averse to foodstuffs prepared in challenging ways but pineapple is one of those polarising fruits; tolerable in isolation, downright wrong on a pizza. Or with gammon.**

Or so I thought.

My palate must be changing with age; after all I eschewed the pepperoni pizza, picking up the Hawaiian in preference.

It would appear that 2016 is indeed a year of experimentation, compromise… If only my attitudes to other deeply entrenched beliefs could be moderated in a similar fashion.

Perhaps I need to go around licking stuff – you know, to test if my attitudes can be modified according to taste?


*Names have been changed to protect even the generosity of those wonderful individuals here.

**Gammon with egg FTW!