Like I said earlier, Christmas was when everyone took a week off and things began to happen. The original plan with regard to food was to stay at home and cook. That was a sound plan...until Joe Cynic introduced me to Weatherspoons. If you're thinking of some old butler looking chap serving tea and crumpets on a silver tray, let me stop you right there. The Weatherspoons chain of pubs probably serves the cheapest food in London's pubs. Relatively cheaper anyway. This was the place where I dug into the English food stuffs. The infamous English Breakfast lived up to its reputation. Bacon, sausages, eggs, hash browns, toast, baked beans-the whole works washed down with a nice cup of coffee. All artery clogging stuff I admit, but...whaddya gonna do? Their all day specials were just as inviting. Chops, steaks roasts and what not. Of course, the desserts were the best. I don't know who invented sticky toffee pudding, but the chappie deserves an award. (On a related note, I'm pretty sure my sweet tooth is going to take over my mind and after that the whole world.)
The week almost ended up like a hunt-for-the-Weatherspoons-in-this-area game. Almost.
Here are some facts which I think everyone ought to know before they head to London (and its pubs):
# Pudding is sometimes served with breakfast.
# Pudding isn't gooey and served in a bowl. At least the ones accompanying meals aren't. They're solid food and you need a knife and fork to deal with 'em. So why are they called pudding? Beats the hell out of me.
# Mince pies don't contain mince. Actually they don't contain meat at all. Just sweet stuffing. And they don't come in (pizza) pie size. Sure, they're pie shaped, but they fit on the palm of your hand.
# Alcoholic ginger beer is not a sissy drink. Its refreshingly delicious. (Try it, ya big sissy!)
Apart from all the pub hopping, there were the standard issue weird guys I seem to attract on all my adventures. This post wouldn't be complete without a mention of them.
One evening we were at Joe Cynic's favourite pub. A nifty place, with plenty of metal themed ornaments all over the place. (Would a coffin with a skeleton bride propped up next to it qualify as an ornament? Hmmmm...). To complete the picture, there were tattoo encrusted, earlobe pierced dudes and dudettes all over the place. Dudes with long hair and dudettes with short hair. Joe Cynic told me to keep me eyes peeled when I was on my way to the loo. I did and it was interesting. The narrow stairway to the loos in the basement were covered with metal themed posters. Some really fancy artwork . Take a gander whilst you're there. The name of the pub you ask? Ah yes, silly me. Its called the Intrepid Fox.
So, on one of my trips to the loo, while I'm at the works, this goth chap pulls up next to me. The skinny, long haired variety. Since (as you probably already know) I'm used to life's onslaughts, I kinda anticipate weird stuff before it actually happens. I steeled myself and continued with my business. The Goth Chap didn't disappoint. A couple of seconds after he'd pulled in he started moaning.
"Oh, Yeah!!", "C'mon", "Oooh", "Aaaah" went the Goth Chap taking an occasional gander at me. At this point I'm thinking "What am I? Flypaper for freaks?" (Hahaha...sorry couldn't resist. I love that line. My due apologies to the copyright holder). Anyway, I finish up, zipper up and make a break for it. The Goth Chap breaks into a sheepish smile. "Heh heh..sorry man, was just trying to freak you out". Ohh!! Reeaaaaally?? Almost worked, bub. Almost.
Another evening at the Weatherspoons. Some old chap at the adjoining table suddenly strikes up a conversation with us. "So, enjoying your food? Eh? Eh?" My spidey senses were tingling. I leaned towards my plate and concentrated on cramming my face with the chow. Joe Cynic on the other hand dove right into the conversation. Just experimenting, he always says. Too each his own, I always say. Anyway, the Old Chap didn't disappoint either. "Can I have the last bit of your meal? Well, can I?" My mouth is full so I don't reply. For the next few minutes I concentrate of shoveling in forkfuls of food to maintain the status quo. Joe Cynic catches on fast. The fists on his fork and spoon tighten and he begins shoveling too, saying stuff like, "No no no. C'mon. We've got to eat." "Where's your Christian Sprit? Where is it? I'm a Catholic, you know", goes the Old Chap. We get a break when another chap comes along and reclaims his laptop bag (from the looks of it) which the Old Chap apparently 'took' from him. The newcomer pauses to eyeball the Old Chap. It doesn't work of course. The Old Chap just brazens it out. "Oh? What? Its yours?" or some such stuff. The good part is we're done with the meal. And then, off we went.
On one occasion we went to a pantomime, courtesy of the Financial Whiz Kid. It was a nicely done play on Alladin. Remember good ol' Al? The pantomime involved active audience participation. Something which I'd never seen before. Anyway, while us chaps enjoyed the play in a stoic, chap-like manner, The Whiz Kid was on the edge of her seat, beaming and chuckling and clapping her hands with girlish glee. Ah, to be young again.
Oh yeah, there was one cooking episode at Joe Cynic's place when he cooked up some fancy stuff. Amidst all this the the fire alarm went off. It was one of those heat detector thingy's. As usual, everyone panicked, heads snapped upwards and eyes darted around trying to locate the fire. Joe Cynic rushed up with a cloth and flapped away like mad at the detector (to cool it obviously). What did I do? Well...I snickered. Quite reminiscent of my living quarters, you see. Aw, c'mon, I'm only human. What did you expect me to do? Quit my chuckling and flap along?
Night long arguments were a common feature. This was something I'd missed from the old days. Evolution, creation, religion, politics, work, cruddy bosses....everything. We diced it all up. Crawling into bed at 4 am was the inevitable end result. Ach, what the heck. I can't remember the last time I bit into a juicy argument.
Anyway, the days passed nicely. Everyone was content and the laughs flowed freely. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to us, dark clouds loomed over the horizon and an ominous wind blew lightly.
But, we didn't notice.
Alas.
The week almost ended up like a hunt-for-the-Weatherspoons-in-this-area game. Almost.
Here are some facts which I think everyone ought to know before they head to London (and its pubs):
# Pudding is sometimes served with breakfast.
# Pudding isn't gooey and served in a bowl. At least the ones accompanying meals aren't. They're solid food and you need a knife and fork to deal with 'em. So why are they called pudding? Beats the hell out of me.
# Mince pies don't contain mince. Actually they don't contain meat at all. Just sweet stuffing. And they don't come in (pizza) pie size. Sure, they're pie shaped, but they fit on the palm of your hand.
# Alcoholic ginger beer is not a sissy drink. Its refreshingly delicious. (Try it, ya big sissy!)
Apart from all the pub hopping, there were the standard issue weird guys I seem to attract on all my adventures. This post wouldn't be complete without a mention of them.
One evening we were at Joe Cynic's favourite pub. A nifty place, with plenty of metal themed ornaments all over the place. (Would a coffin with a skeleton bride propped up next to it qualify as an ornament? Hmmmm...). To complete the picture, there were tattoo encrusted, earlobe pierced dudes and dudettes all over the place. Dudes with long hair and dudettes with short hair. Joe Cynic told me to keep me eyes peeled when I was on my way to the loo. I did and it was interesting. The narrow stairway to the loos in the basement were covered with metal themed posters. Some really fancy artwork . Take a gander whilst you're there. The name of the pub you ask? Ah yes, silly me. Its called the Intrepid Fox.
So, on one of my trips to the loo, while I'm at the works, this goth chap pulls up next to me. The skinny, long haired variety. Since (as you probably already know) I'm used to life's onslaughts, I kinda anticipate weird stuff before it actually happens. I steeled myself and continued with my business. The Goth Chap didn't disappoint. A couple of seconds after he'd pulled in he started moaning.
"Oh, Yeah!!", "C'mon", "Oooh", "Aaaah" went the Goth Chap taking an occasional gander at me. At this point I'm thinking "What am I? Flypaper for freaks?" (Hahaha...sorry couldn't resist. I love that line. My due apologies to the copyright holder). Anyway, I finish up, zipper up and make a break for it. The Goth Chap breaks into a sheepish smile. "Heh heh..sorry man, was just trying to freak you out". Ohh!! Reeaaaaally?? Almost worked, bub. Almost.
Another evening at the Weatherspoons. Some old chap at the adjoining table suddenly strikes up a conversation with us. "So, enjoying your food? Eh? Eh?" My spidey senses were tingling. I leaned towards my plate and concentrated on cramming my face with the chow. Joe Cynic on the other hand dove right into the conversation. Just experimenting, he always says. Too each his own, I always say. Anyway, the Old Chap didn't disappoint either. "Can I have the last bit of your meal? Well, can I?" My mouth is full so I don't reply. For the next few minutes I concentrate of shoveling in forkfuls of food to maintain the status quo. Joe Cynic catches on fast. The fists on his fork and spoon tighten and he begins shoveling too, saying stuff like, "No no no. C'mon. We've got to eat." "Where's your Christian Sprit? Where is it? I'm a Catholic, you know", goes the Old Chap. We get a break when another chap comes along and reclaims his laptop bag (from the looks of it) which the Old Chap apparently 'took' from him. The newcomer pauses to eyeball the Old Chap. It doesn't work of course. The Old Chap just brazens it out. "Oh? What? Its yours?" or some such stuff. The good part is we're done with the meal. And then, off we went.
On one occasion we went to a pantomime, courtesy of the Financial Whiz Kid. It was a nicely done play on Alladin. Remember good ol' Al? The pantomime involved active audience participation. Something which I'd never seen before. Anyway, while us chaps enjoyed the play in a stoic, chap-like manner, The Whiz Kid was on the edge of her seat, beaming and chuckling and clapping her hands with girlish glee. Ah, to be young again.
Oh yeah, there was one cooking episode at Joe Cynic's place when he cooked up some fancy stuff. Amidst all this the the fire alarm went off. It was one of those heat detector thingy's. As usual, everyone panicked, heads snapped upwards and eyes darted around trying to locate the fire. Joe Cynic rushed up with a cloth and flapped away like mad at the detector (to cool it obviously). What did I do? Well...I snickered. Quite reminiscent of my living quarters, you see. Aw, c'mon, I'm only human. What did you expect me to do? Quit my chuckling and flap along?
Night long arguments were a common feature. This was something I'd missed from the old days. Evolution, creation, religion, politics, work, cruddy bosses....everything. We diced it all up. Crawling into bed at 4 am was the inevitable end result. Ach, what the heck. I can't remember the last time I bit into a juicy argument.
Anyway, the days passed nicely. Everyone was content and the laughs flowed freely. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to us, dark clouds loomed over the horizon and an ominous wind blew lightly.
But, we didn't notice.
Alas.
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