Sunday, January 22, 2006

What no starter!!

I regret that I have to record my own wife Ann may have begun to talk in the very odd way of some of her friends and relatives.
The following occurred in the car just now as we came back from Brecon.
“I had some nice oatmeal biscuits that would have gone well with a piece of Cheddar but I thought – No!!”
If this were about some stupid diet I wouldn’t have even noticed it. This was about one of her friends who Ann invited round for lunch today because she was on her own and a little unwell. We were going to have roast chicken and syrup pudding.
The lady in question is one who feels terribly unfinished unless there is a starter, a main course, a pudding, cheese and biscuits and several cups of coffee.
I remember her daughter in law complaining to us once that she served straight away a main course to be greeted with “What no starter!?”
I also remember our guest once telling us that a friend had invited her to stay with the proviso “you will have to take me as you find me” to which her response was “Well I certainly wasn’t going to do that!”
Anyway what I gather is that Ann valiantly resisted an attempt to usurp completely control of the Sunday lunch. She had to back down on the syrup pudding because our guest is apparently unable to eat such things but was staunch on the question of the missing cheese board, hence; “ “I had some nice oatmeal biscuits that would have gone well with a piece of Cheddar but I thought – No!!” “


FBT said...

I have a friend from Wales whose parents have never eaten anything but good British food - none of your foreign muck, like pizza, pasta, Chinese, curry etc etc.

I always thought they were the nec plus ultra of food hidebounded-ness, but this takes the (oatmeal) biscuit!

MacDuff said...

There was a line by Lister in a 'Red Dwarf' episode that said, quite accurately, "We've got less choice that a Welsh fish shop".
I remember going in to the Kestrel Pub just outside of Brecon years ago because there was a badger that came into the bar every evening and wandered around sniffing the customers. Well it gave me pleasure. It was run by a ex German prisoner of war, (not Herman the German referred to in earlier post.)
An American couple asked him if he had anything typically Welsh. He paused for thought and then answered morosely but with a perfect Welsh accent.
"Well there is only Welsh Rarebit and that's bloody awful"