Bread and Blogging

I realise that I have neglected writing for a while and I have decided to kick myself in to gear. I have been writing but I admit it’s mostly been cricket match reports and that, for the majority, carries almost no interest at all I know!

One of the other writing projects that I undertook was to submit something for a “zine”. In fact this is a foodie zine Cakes and Canapes compiled by my good friend Miriam Nice who was a large part of the inspiration for this blog initially. Her blog inspired publication features articles and illustrations centred around a particular food stuff each issue and I am proud to say I managed to have a short, cautionary (fictional) tale included in the 1^st edition. Please do have a look at www.cakesandcanapes.co.uk to find out more. There’s a Facebook group, you can follow Mim on twitter, purchase the zine and she has a blog that I follow which is an entertaining cocktail of life and food combined.

I will be writing soon to update anyone who cares to have a read on: Boys Week (holiday), The Diet (low/no carbs…ouch), Temping (yes I have work for now), sporting conduct (cricket season is in full swing) and the rest that life has to offer in the meantime! For now I hope that you enjoy my submission for C&C.

Bread - A Cautionary Tale

The other day my mate told me that the best thing to do, with regard to my ensuing wifely predicament, would be to use my loaf. Annoyed, I swung my lunch box at him, catching him flush across the forehead. He angrily enquired “What’d you do that for?” to which sadly, I didn’t really have an answer that would most likely have made him happy.  Nope, no retrospectively suitable remarks what would’ve satiated his growing ire not to mention lump swelling on his aforementioned bonce.

As he lent forward, hands thrust throatwards with all the intention in the world to throttle the last breath from my very own soul transporter, it dawned on me that, now, his erstwhile words of wisdom made a crystal clear sense in my mind. Quick as a flash I opened my box and offered him a sandwich with a quippy remark of “you told me to use my loaf”. I paused, expecting the worst if I’m honest with you. Imagine my relief when he reached forwards and examined my crusty sacrifice. He was becalmed enough, whilst demolishing my egg and cress, to reduce his threat level to a mild distain and whilst he munched away, murmurs of satisfaction oozing between bites, my mind wandered to the international peace keeping power of the sandwich. Well, to put it more precisely, a loaf of bread.

We’re a simple race with simple needs. Given each worsening famine or fledgling war is proceeded by a sack loads of flour or loaf after crusty loaf of being dished out from the back of a flatbed to the suffering, embittered and impoverished it would appear to be a multinational success story. Bread. The simplest of things. The noblest of things. Saviour of the hungry and bringer of calm and reassurance. It turns out my disfigured companion had had the most valid of points and his initial, irreverent recommendation was not without its merits.

In fact it turns out that whilst a useful, if accidentally insightful point, it wasn’t a theory that could be applied to every conceivable situation. Specifically mine. When I approached my good lady wife, tea in one hand and glistening butter covered thick white sliced toasted glory in the other, suggesting that we could talk out our recent difference of opinion and rebuild a loving relationship with the most basic of food stuffs as the cornerstone foundation, she, so it happened, disagreed. Apparently bread, no matter the quality or covering whether it be Golden Churn or love itself, will not rebuild all bridges. Especially those burned by being found in the marital bed chamber with one’s very own secretary. I also found out that hot butter and scolding tea make evil bed fellows when combined in what can only politely be described as a vicious assault! 

I do salute you, bread, for all the good in the world that you may well do. Poverty and warzones may, for want of a better phrase, your bread and butter. However I regret to announce that it would appear not even bread can repair the damage caused by crumpet.

20x20 Is Hindsight

There area many stark differences between men and women with regard to relationships. I don’t think that this is a statement worthy of any sudden gasps or astonishment. However one thing dawned on me fairly recently and I wondered whether it is just the group of rose-tinted bespectacled blokey mates and embittered, twisted womenfolk that I am acquainted with or a reflection on the general populous. It would appear that how the two sexes review our old flames and past partners differs as greatly as how we view our current beaus and romantic leads.

Most guys I know, when referring to “the ex” tend to look back on them with a fondness that is equal in magnitude to their general indifference shown at the time. In essence they remember only the good times. The happy summer walks and winter nights by the fire, how they got on with all of their mates and how much their mum loved the long-gone lady. “She didn’t mind watching the football” or “She always came to watch me play cricket”. As friends do it’s of course then our own job to remind them that the aforementioned ex was all of these things but above all a bit of a witch that we all humoured and never really liked or, in less extreme cases, she was “a bit dull”. No matter how unhappy the relationship was at the time, only the positives and hallmark moments are fresh in the mind of a man. Notably a single man I should add.

Conversely all of womankind whom I have ever known remember their own exes as “that f***ing a***hole that ruined my life for two years”. Yes he may’ve been “the one” at the time and his name was every other word that drooled from her mouth but once the six-month break-up sex has passed he is vilified and demonised regardless of the reasons for the end of the relationship (and of who dumped who).

I can’t for the life of me understand why this is. On both parts! I can honestly say that inexplicably I do the same and somehow, in my head, telling my brother “I know she was a bit of a psycho, but they were good times” doesn’t seem in the least bit strange or irrational. A “bit of a psycho”?!? Surely if this were an introduction to a woman you’d steer well clear. “Oh you must meet my friend Claire, she’s a bit of a psycho but she’s perfect for you”. Err, thanks but no thanks! It’s like saying someone’s killed, but only once, so that’s fine right? In the same way I struggle when told by a girly mate that they dated a guy for five years, even though he was a this/that/the other for all that time. Why? “Because I loved him”. Right. That makes sense then.

Hindsight is a beautiful thing but it seems the further men get from a relationship the more blurred the vision gets where as for women time lends a clarity, or rather darkly shaded perspective gladly absent from the moment. I think that maybe it helps them move on as opposed to us poor saps pondering the “what ifs” and “if I knew thens” that haunt many a manly soul.

When I Rule the World!

The one problem with not currently being office-based is a lack of “water cooler moments”. You know, the random interactions with people in the office where you chat about pretty much anything that delays the inevitable return to your whirring PC and the daily grind. In fact the problem perhaps isn’t that I don’t have the moments but more that I still have the thoughts that need exploring when such chance encounters occur!

Fortunately, the latest one at least got discussed to some length in the pub last night and so I thought I’d share it with you now. It boils down to this –

When you rule the world, what five rules and laws would you instigate? That the whole of civilisation would have to adhere to and abide upon pain of, well, some kind of deity angered fiery brimstone fate worse than death. Or at least a good spanking. Now obviously, before embarking on such parameter setting you’d have already taken care of the whole world peace, suffering, so on and so forth – I’d expect no less from an all powerful being such as yourself. No. I’m talking about the things that’d irked you, that you have waited long and worked hard until, having climbed the godly career ladder, you could fix, stop, re-shape or simply CRUSH!

Maybe you’ll go from reading this and have your own discussion about it. Maybe you wonder how I ever got any work done in the past. Both are fairly understandable! But here, for your consideration, are my five.

1.       There will be a strict lane rule in all shopping centres. I’m not talking Tesco, I’m talking your Mall/Shopping Centre type multi-outlet places. It’s a simple rule, but must be obeyed as I’m tired of walking behind dawdlers and stutterers, wanderers and meanderers. ESPECIALLY during lunch times and in the 30 mins before closing. This is the time when people who have jobs shop. It’s hit and run shopping, get in, buy, out, and job’s a good one. The lanes are simple – window shoppers in lane 1, anyone about the age of 70, or likely to moan to the NHS about being too fat, or with seven kids in lane 2, then militant shoppers in lane 3. Simple!

2.       Jeremy Kyle will be killed. But he won’t be alone. Anyone who’s ever been on the show, shot. Anyone who’s ever been in the audience, sorry, shot. Now anyone who’s watched it on purpose, not through stumbling across it, or in fact has watched from start to end......shot, but only in the leg. There. That’ll do I think. I’m not against people seeking help, do it, it’s good. I just think really I hate chavs and when some poor child looks back when his classmates find his parents proving his dad’s not his dad because his mum diddled her partners mum’s cat at some point, surely we’ll look back and say “yes, that wasn’t too clever was it”!

3.       Drugs and prostitution will be legalised – and taxed. Now I have no desire to indulge in either to be honest but there is a lot of money spent on each from the public purse and nothing coming back in. So, lets sort that out and remove the criminal element. I know, it’s a serious one, I just would!

4.       Reality TV will be banned. It’s created too many monsters already. It’s not interesting to anyone aside from people who ought be encouraged to either end it all or just go read a book. Whatever the argument I’ve heard it. It’s controversial but these things breed morons for a host of additional shows and it’s just dragging the world down. If you want to do something informative and insightful at least call it a documentary.

5.       Finally, Adam Sandler will be banned from any further involvement in the film industry. Happy Gilmore, great, that one with the kid and Scooba Steve, good. The Wedding Singer, sweet. But for godsake man stop , please stop! He’s also responsible for Rob Schneider’s career and that is unforgivable. Failure to comply WILL result in dropping him on a Libyan stronghold or from several thousand feet onto Jeremy Kyle. I’m sorry, but you have run out of forgiveness in the hope you’ll recreate former glories. I have a French GCSE but 14 years on I’m acutely aware that I cannot now order a three course meal, buy a house or request unconditional surrender in French. You have to know when to stop.

There are many others. I’d ban fruit in cakes (unless made into jam or put on top), pickled eggs, odd socks, tiny yappy dogs and a whole host of things but for five, that’s a start! As you can see I’m a reasonable leader. What about you?