Greetings, said Pliny the Elder. I did not expect to see you today. I thought you might have been delayed by the volcanic ash.
Oh no, I replied. That was only Melbourne. Here I am, as you see. How have you been? I see you haven't touched the organic baked beans, the hairy melon or the second hand bread.
I have been eating out, said Pliny. I did not wish to open your fridge, which contained evil tomatoes.
Nonsense, Pliny I said. Those tomatoes were not evil.
Take a look, said Pliny. They have developed evil black spots.
So they have, I said, opening the fridge. I shall have to make them into soup.
Then I shall eat out again, said Pliny. But first, tell me, how was your holiday in Sydney?
It was lovely Pliny, I said. My grandchildren are delightful. And I have learned some new songs.
Sing me one, said Pliny. I quite enjoy listening to music in the morning.
Would you like Hot Dog Hot Dog Hot Diggity Dog, The Galumph Frog Song, Or Nicholas Ned, I asked?
I don't know, frowned Pliny.
Showing posts with label bread. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bread. Show all posts
Monday, June 13, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
No One Wants Bread
It wasn't long before they were all back in the Kia Rio, heading for Mrs Hume's apartment with an enormous serve of fish and chips wrapped up in white paper.
Ouch it's hot! said Farky, who had offered to hold the fish and chips on his lap. Only, as he soon discovered, he did not have a lap.
Ouch ! Ouch! he cried.
Give it to me, said The VeloDrone. I don't know why you wanted to hold it in the first place.
So I could smell it! whined Farky pathetically.
We can all smell it, wherever it is, said Mrs Hume. This is a very small car.
Soon they were inside Mrs Hume's apartment, with the lights and the heater on, and the table set with four plates for the fish and chips.
Where's my plate? asked Farky.
On the floor in the kitchen, said Mrs Hume.
Mother, said Le Bon David. I must insist that you treat Farky as one of us. He is a member of Team Philosophe.
Alright, David, said his mother. But I must say it is against all reason.
Farky sat up to the table and began to wolf down his fish and chips. Sweezus did the same. Le Bon David and the VeloDrone waited for Mrs Hume to begin eating.
Why have I got so many chips? asked Mrs Hume. Has someone put some of theirs on my plate when I wasn't looking?
No mother, said Le Bon David. Why would anyone do that?
Would anyone like any bread? continued Mrs Hume, spearing a chip with her fork.
No! said Team Philosophe.
For a time, a chomping silence reigned.
Ouch it's hot! said Farky, who had offered to hold the fish and chips on his lap. Only, as he soon discovered, he did not have a lap.
Ouch ! Ouch! he cried.
Give it to me, said The VeloDrone. I don't know why you wanted to hold it in the first place.
So I could smell it! whined Farky pathetically.
We can all smell it, wherever it is, said Mrs Hume. This is a very small car.
Soon they were inside Mrs Hume's apartment, with the lights and the heater on, and the table set with four plates for the fish and chips.
Where's my plate? asked Farky.
On the floor in the kitchen, said Mrs Hume.
Mother, said Le Bon David. I must insist that you treat Farky as one of us. He is a member of Team Philosophe.
Alright, David, said his mother. But I must say it is against all reason.
Farky sat up to the table and began to wolf down his fish and chips. Sweezus did the same. Le Bon David and the VeloDrone waited for Mrs Hume to begin eating.
Why have I got so many chips? asked Mrs Hume. Has someone put some of theirs on my plate when I wasn't looking?
No mother, said Le Bon David. Why would anyone do that?
Would anyone like any bread? continued Mrs Hume, spearing a chip with her fork.
No! said Team Philosophe.
For a time, a chomping silence reigned.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Goby Fish
I sometimes think, I said to Pliny the Elder, that you know the things you say are funny.
What things? asked Pliny, chewing on his breakfast toast and jam.
The claims you make for remedies and cures for example. "If you have some bread stuck in your throat pieces from the same loaf should be placed inside both ears."
Yes, I knew that one was funny, said Pliny. But not everyone did.
What about your story of the Goby Fish? I asked. Did you seriously believe a tiny fish could hold back a warship?
It is well recorded, said Pliny. A Goby Fish held back Anthony's ship at the battle of Actium. He had to change ships. This delay gave Octavian's fleet the chance to make their attack.
Couldn't that have just been an excuse? I said, sceptically
Nonsense, said Pliny. Romans do not make excuses. In my own time a Goby held back the Emperor Gaius's ship on his voyage back to Antium. His was the only ship in the fleet that stopped. His men dived under the water and soon discovered the cause. A Goby Fish was attached to the rudder, preventing his 400 rowers from moving forward.
I know all this, I said. I just read it this morning. And Emperor Gaius was furious, especially when he realised the fish didn't have the same power when it was brought on board. But my question is, Pliny, when you wrote it down, did you really believe it?
That is for me to know, said Pliny, and you to wonder.
I thought we were friends, I said. You can tell me.
Alright, said Pliny. I.....och....cough cough...choke.....aagh......
He appeared to be choking on his piece of toast. I ran to fetch the loaf from whence it came.
What things? asked Pliny, chewing on his breakfast toast and jam.
The claims you make for remedies and cures for example. "If you have some bread stuck in your throat pieces from the same loaf should be placed inside both ears."
Yes, I knew that one was funny, said Pliny. But not everyone did.
What about your story of the Goby Fish? I asked. Did you seriously believe a tiny fish could hold back a warship?
It is well recorded, said Pliny. A Goby Fish held back Anthony's ship at the battle of Actium. He had to change ships. This delay gave Octavian's fleet the chance to make their attack.
Couldn't that have just been an excuse? I said, sceptically
Nonsense, said Pliny. Romans do not make excuses. In my own time a Goby held back the Emperor Gaius's ship on his voyage back to Antium. His was the only ship in the fleet that stopped. His men dived under the water and soon discovered the cause. A Goby Fish was attached to the rudder, preventing his 400 rowers from moving forward.
I know all this, I said. I just read it this morning. And Emperor Gaius was furious, especially when he realised the fish didn't have the same power when it was brought on board. But my question is, Pliny, when you wrote it down, did you really believe it?
That is for me to know, said Pliny, and you to wonder.
I thought we were friends, I said. You can tell me.
Alright, said Pliny. I.....och....cough cough...choke.....aagh......
He appeared to be choking on his piece of toast. I ran to fetch the loaf from whence it came.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Long Lunch
Our friends are enjoying their rest day in Morzine-Avoriaz. They are having a picnic of bread and cheese and berries in a sweet-smelling meadow overlooking a spectacular valley.
Jean Paul Sartre: Pass the cheese, please, Simone, ma cherie.
Simone de Beauvoir ( passing the cheese): Don't eat too much of it, mon petit. You will get heartburn.
The VeloDrone: Oh let him eat what he likes today. It's a holiday. Pass it to me when you're done with it, Jean Paul.
Belle et Bonne: It isn't a holiday papa, it's a rest day. You are supposed to be gathering your strength for the climb up the Col de la Madeleine tomorrow.
Le Bon David: Groan!!
Belle et Bonne: What's the matter, Uncle David?
Le Bon David: I am too old for this. I ache all over. This may be my last Tour de France. If philosophy teaches one how to live, then I have learned nothing.
Belle et Bonne: Don't be sad Uncle David. You are one of the most famous philosophers in the whole world. I'm sure you will figure out how to live quite soon. Let me in the meantime ask you the philosophical question I was going to ask you yesterday.
Simone de Beauvoir: Yes, ask him. I too will be interested in the answer.
Belle et Bonne: Yes, she will. It's really her question.
Le Bon David; Well. what is it then?
Belle et Bonne: Simone has to wear something blue to a party.
Simone de Beauvoir: I thought we weren't going to frame the question in that way!
Belle et Bonne: Oops! Sorry. I meant, Uncle David, do you think that colour can exist in the absence of light?
Le Bon David: I say! This isn't going to be a question about her undergarments, is it?
Jean Paul Sartre: Pass the cheese, please, Simone, ma cherie.
Simone de Beauvoir ( passing the cheese): Don't eat too much of it, mon petit. You will get heartburn.
The VeloDrone: Oh let him eat what he likes today. It's a holiday. Pass it to me when you're done with it, Jean Paul.
Belle et Bonne: It isn't a holiday papa, it's a rest day. You are supposed to be gathering your strength for the climb up the Col de la Madeleine tomorrow.
Le Bon David: Groan!!
Belle et Bonne: What's the matter, Uncle David?
Le Bon David: I am too old for this. I ache all over. This may be my last Tour de France. If philosophy teaches one how to live, then I have learned nothing.
Belle et Bonne: Don't be sad Uncle David. You are one of the most famous philosophers in the whole world. I'm sure you will figure out how to live quite soon. Let me in the meantime ask you the philosophical question I was going to ask you yesterday.
Simone de Beauvoir: Yes, ask him. I too will be interested in the answer.
Belle et Bonne: Yes, she will. It's really her question.
Le Bon David; Well. what is it then?
Belle et Bonne: Simone has to wear something blue to a party.
Simone de Beauvoir: I thought we weren't going to frame the question in that way!
Belle et Bonne: Oops! Sorry. I meant, Uncle David, do you think that colour can exist in the absence of light?
Le Bon David: I say! This isn't going to be a question about her undergarments, is it?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Odd Lunch Out
Yesterday I had a strange lunch. I didn't want an egg and bacon roll, or minestrone soup, or a stout and beefsteak pie, or a sausage, or a cheese and tomato toastie. I was looking at the menu of a lunch van on wheels, out of doors.
Why are there no greens? I asked myself. If anything had lettuce in it I would have had that.
It was the Farmers Market. You could obviously go and buy a lettuce, but it wouldn't have been washed, and it would just have been a lettuce.
So I went back to the food hall, and looked again at the stalls. Cheese, honey, chutney, bread, cold pies and tarts, everything was the colour of pastry. and nothing was warmed up. It was a cold day too, I'm telling you, you'll feel sorry for me soon.
The last stall at the northern end sold slices of leek and gruyere tart, cold lentil pie, falafel, vegetable fritters and little pastry triangles the colour of cold feet.
But, at the end of the display, was a row of fluoro yellow pumpkin risotto and sweet chilli muffins with a green swirl through the middle. This was the greenest thing I had seen to eat other than the lettuce, broccoli, chard, cabbage, cauliflower, zucchini and other greens outside. So, tempted by the bright yellow muffin, which was also very cheap, I bought one and took it back to the outside table where my companions were eating.
They were eating egg and bacon rolls and hot minestrone soup. I opened my paper bag. What's that? they asked. Pumpkin risotto and sweet chilli muffin, I replied optimistically.
Now cooked rice loses texture when it's a day old. Pumpkin can be bland. And I never did discover what the green swirl was. It was just a green swirl tasting of nothing in particular, marking the point at which the muffin was to break in half, revealing a blob of cold sweet chilli sauce.
I ate the halves, breaking off each piece as though it would be my last. How was that? asked my companions.
It would have been nicer warm, I said, biting into an unwashed pear.
Why are there no greens? I asked myself. If anything had lettuce in it I would have had that.
It was the Farmers Market. You could obviously go and buy a lettuce, but it wouldn't have been washed, and it would just have been a lettuce.
So I went back to the food hall, and looked again at the stalls. Cheese, honey, chutney, bread, cold pies and tarts, everything was the colour of pastry. and nothing was warmed up. It was a cold day too, I'm telling you, you'll feel sorry for me soon.
The last stall at the northern end sold slices of leek and gruyere tart, cold lentil pie, falafel, vegetable fritters and little pastry triangles the colour of cold feet.
But, at the end of the display, was a row of fluoro yellow pumpkin risotto and sweet chilli muffins with a green swirl through the middle. This was the greenest thing I had seen to eat other than the lettuce, broccoli, chard, cabbage, cauliflower, zucchini and other greens outside. So, tempted by the bright yellow muffin, which was also very cheap, I bought one and took it back to the outside table where my companions were eating.
They were eating egg and bacon rolls and hot minestrone soup. I opened my paper bag. What's that? they asked. Pumpkin risotto and sweet chilli muffin, I replied optimistically.
Now cooked rice loses texture when it's a day old. Pumpkin can be bland. And I never did discover what the green swirl was. It was just a green swirl tasting of nothing in particular, marking the point at which the muffin was to break in half, revealing a blob of cold sweet chilli sauce.
I ate the halves, breaking off each piece as though it would be my last. How was that? asked my companions.
It would have been nicer warm, I said, biting into an unwashed pear.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Milk
Are you satisfied now? asked Pliny the Elder. And finished with your uneventful walks?
No, I replied heavily. I'm not satisfied with them at all. They were nice walks at the time, but they have come across as boring. Perhaps that style of writing is not for me.
Oh, said Pliny, they were not exactly boring. It was funny when you met the ladies coming up the stairs, and ....
There you see, I said huffily. That was an event.
True, agreed Pliny. Well, now you can switch back to writing about events. No harm is done.
Yes it is, Pliny. I now feel as though I can't tell an event from a non-event.
Nonsense! A walk is a walk. An event is when you meet somebody on the walk or at your destination. Another sort of event is when you get run over by a bicycle. Or someone throws an icecream at you from a moving car. It could even be an event if you have to wait a long time at the traffic lights.
How would that be an event?
Well perhaps that is not one. But cheer up. You went for a walk this morning didn't you? Did anything of interest happen to you on the way?
No.
On the way back?
No.
At your destination?
No. Oh wait a minute! Yes! I was walking to the letterbox. I posted my letters. Then I thought to myself, What a beautiful day it is! It reminds me of my April poem. I don't want to go home yet, I'll go and buy some milk at the Shell petrol station on the corner. So I went down to the corner, crossed the road...
Leave out the directions, said Pliny.
Oh yes, sorry. So I got there, picked up two bottles of milk, and took them over to the counter.
The young man behind the counter said, For you?
Yes, I said.
Nice day! I added.
For you, he said.
Hmm, said Pliny. What did he mean by that?
I'm not sure. Then he asked me if I wanted to buy some mints, and I said, No thankyou. Then he asked me if I liked bread.
This is funny said Pliny. What did you say to that?
I said I liked bread but I didn't need any. I said that as I was walking the two milks would be enough for me to carry.
Walking? he said, looking very impressed. Yes I replied, and paid for the milk and......
Is there an end to this story? asked Pliny.
No, I replied heavily. I'm not satisfied with them at all. They were nice walks at the time, but they have come across as boring. Perhaps that style of writing is not for me.
Oh, said Pliny, they were not exactly boring. It was funny when you met the ladies coming up the stairs, and ....
There you see, I said huffily. That was an event.
True, agreed Pliny. Well, now you can switch back to writing about events. No harm is done.
Yes it is, Pliny. I now feel as though I can't tell an event from a non-event.
Nonsense! A walk is a walk. An event is when you meet somebody on the walk or at your destination. Another sort of event is when you get run over by a bicycle. Or someone throws an icecream at you from a moving car. It could even be an event if you have to wait a long time at the traffic lights.
How would that be an event?
Well perhaps that is not one. But cheer up. You went for a walk this morning didn't you? Did anything of interest happen to you on the way?
No.
On the way back?
No.
At your destination?
No. Oh wait a minute! Yes! I was walking to the letterbox. I posted my letters. Then I thought to myself, What a beautiful day it is! It reminds me of my April poem. I don't want to go home yet, I'll go and buy some milk at the Shell petrol station on the corner. So I went down to the corner, crossed the road...
Leave out the directions, said Pliny.
Oh yes, sorry. So I got there, picked up two bottles of milk, and took them over to the counter.
The young man behind the counter said, For you?
Yes, I said.
Nice day! I added.
For you, he said.
Hmm, said Pliny. What did he mean by that?
I'm not sure. Then he asked me if I wanted to buy some mints, and I said, No thankyou. Then he asked me if I liked bread.
This is funny said Pliny. What did you say to that?
I said I liked bread but I didn't need any. I said that as I was walking the two milks would be enough for me to carry.
Walking? he said, looking very impressed. Yes I replied, and paid for the milk and......
Is there an end to this story? asked Pliny.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The Sardinian Sacrifice
Why are the shops shut? asked Pliny the Elder. I want to buy some sardines.
It's Anzac Day, I replied.
What's that?
It's the day we remember the soldiers who died in the wars.
Very good, said Pliny. No one should forget the importance of wars. I am very proud of my own military service. What a great empire we Romans had. They were glorious days.
We don't remember the gloriousness of it, I said. We remember the sacrifice they made.
By the Heavens! said Pliny. Don't tell me sacrifice isn't glorious! So, no sardines for lunch today.
I shall have brown bread and cheese.
It's Anzac Day, I replied.
What's that?
It's the day we remember the soldiers who died in the wars.
Very good, said Pliny. No one should forget the importance of wars. I am very proud of my own military service. What a great empire we Romans had. They were glorious days.
We don't remember the gloriousness of it, I said. We remember the sacrifice they made.
By the Heavens! said Pliny. Don't tell me sacrifice isn't glorious! So, no sardines for lunch today.
I shall have brown bread and cheese.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
YouTube
So Pliny has discovered YouTube! I do feel bad now. Annoyed too. He's only just got off the computer after spending all morning looking at YouTube bugs. He was particularly taken with a red and yellow bug that 2 Spanish motor cyclists had filmed in the middle of the road eating another bug exactly like itself. Exactly, except that it was dead and more than half eaten, and could easily have been a piece of bread. But that's YouTube, as Pliny will have to learn.
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