Now, where was I?

As far as the blog is concerned I’m eating cake in Derbyshire. In real life I am back in Nottingham, where I passed three increasingly unpleasant days at work and finally had a day of rest.

Today, Sunday, I had a lie in, read, shopped, snacked, snoozed and cooked.

As I speak, I am on the verge of serving ratatouille with Lincolnshire sausages, and also have a pan of vegetarian cottage pie filling simmering away. Tomorrow we will have the pie, with a topping of mash, and on Wednesday we will have the remains of the ratatouille, probably with a baked potato.

We used to serve Italian style sausages with the ratatouille (Italian style meaning British sausages with Italian flavoured fillings) but they cost more and didn’t taste as good as a Lincolnshire sausage.

They are also better for use in sandwiches, and tomorrow we will have sausage sandwiches for lunch.

And that, for the benefit of future researchers, is the way middle-aged Β men and their wives spent their winter Sundays in the early 21st Centuries. By the early 22nd Century you will probably need a license to own a sausage, or at least pay a punitive tax, and the use of plastic wrappings will be superseded by the use of potato-starch substitutes which can be composted or used as a topping on pies.

TESCO Top Valley - an hour later

TESCO Top Valley – an hour later

While I was looking for a potato starch/plastic links I found this one. It’s one of my favourite subjects, but I wouldn’t advise reading it if you are eating. In the 22nd Century people will probably wonder why we ever thought cremation was a good idea.

Back to work.

On Thursday I was referred to as “disabled” by my co-worker. It’s funny what goes through people’s minds. We were discussing whether coin dealers would have made it to heaven in Egyptian times as we spend a lot of times destroying dreams when people ring up with a “valuable” coin. I checked this up – I think we’re OK. If you read this, it’s about doing good deeds, not necessarily about valuing coins.

We moved on to Christianity and he asked me if I thought I would still be disabled in Heaven or if all would be corrected. This was news to me, as I didn’t realise I was disabled. Anyway, as I pointed out, we don’t go to Heaven after we die, we have to wait for the general resurrection and, theologically, only need a skull and two femurs (the Skull and Crossbones) to gain eternal life, so I’m not sure a dodgy knee comes into play at any time.

I then asked him if he saw me as “disabled”. He changed the subject.

We then move on to a couple of days of him continually arguing with the shop owner about minor details of what we do. It’s like being in the middle of a divorcing couple. Fortunately I was given a set of ear plugs last week (the reason is too long and involved to explain) so on Saturday afternoon I put them in. It helped cut out some of the noise.


Sometimes, when there is no other subject, I take pictures of wheels.

13 thoughts on “Now, where was I?

  1. tootlepedal

    It’s not going to heaven that worries me, it’s mixing with all the do gooders when I get there. I just don’t feel that I am going to fit in….and will there be cheese?

    1. quercuscommunity

      With two dodgy knees you may have trouble walking, but at least you travel in a straight line. With one bad knee there is the ever-present danger of walking in an accidental circle. πŸ™‚

      1. quercuscommunity

        That’s the advantage of WP – you take people as you find them rather than judging by appearances. In life In try to give people credit for what they do rather than what they look like. Writers of YA fiction come well towards the top of my list. πŸ™‚ Even if their knees do creak…

  2. arlingwoman

    Well, that must have been a shock to be called disabled when you have a dodgy knee. Let’s hope he and your boss don’t come to blows. You’d have to decide whether to ignore them. I will not be here in the 22nd century to eat, so I’m nt worried about what people accept for food then.

  3. Clem

    Disabled or handicapped. Neither, or both?
    Two of my younger brothers play golf. Neither all that seriously; but in a tournament they will both have a handicap. One’s handicap is greater than the other’s. I once queried whether this implied some sort of disability (sibling rivalry very much on display).
    Oh no, I was assured. The handicap is merely to level the playing field.
    “Without it then you are playing on the side of a hill?”
    They use handicaps in bowling as well – and they obviously don’t bowl on a hillside.
    “I think I see.”
    “Does the handicap at least allow you to park the golf cart in one of those reserved spots?”

    Fortunately a golf club was not close to hand.


Leave a Reply