I am a responsible person. Which is why a lot of my thoughts and observations do not make it into the public domain of my blog. Rather a pity since you don’t know how much you are missing. Still, sometimes we have to giggle, snort, pontificate and slaughter in private.
Oh, Sweethearts, one thing I have learnt, to my amusement and frustration, that there are always at least two ways of putting something in writing. The one that makes me laugh the most I can’t possibly publish, and I am no coward. I hold it with one of my heroes though can’t say I particularly like the man of whom was said: “No one pisses from a greater height than …. does”. I love pissing from heights – yet withOUT so much as a grain of malice. Just for fun. Which has landed me in so much trouble in my life that, just as I am refining the art, I now have to curb myself sincerely, nay severely.
Well, what do you expect? Once I was a young Beaujolais (drink without delay), now I am a fine Chablis. A bit like those – on purchase – rock hard pears, peaches and avocados which you will have to let ripen (at their own pace) in the privacy of your kitchen. Those of you who have no idea what I am talking about live in California. Or shop at Harrods Food Hall.
And then there is Cider. Are any of you Orchards? Ripe for the picking to find your destiny in smashed form next to a nice bit of roast pork? I can think of at least person who’d make eye watering horseradish next to roast beef. Yes, I know: You can tell it’s Sunday. Roast being on my mind.