We had fish and chips on Monday night. We needed some bottled water for Julia (we were going to freeze it overnight so it stayed cold all day) and the chip shop was the closest place that sells it now all the local shops have closed down. Well, all the useful local shops. We still have a pawn shop, three hairdressers, a double glazing shop and two accountants, but actual useful shops are rare. We have two supermarkets within walking distance (for Julia) but it was a clammy night and the return journey is all uphill.
It seemed silly not to have fish and chips if she was going that way. It also seemed silly not to have mushy peas and a pickled egg, as fish and chips are a rare event these days. They aren’t cheap these days, and they are fried, which, in diet terms, puts them on a level of popularity shared by Covid, Beelzebub and Boris Johnson.
As she thought of going out the sky turned grey, a cold wind whistled in and one of the “scattered thunderstorms” that had been forecast settled over our house and lashed it down for fifteen minutes. We weren’t the only ones. Next morning on the way to work there was still a lot of standing water by the roadside.
It’s lucky she didn’t leave five minutes earlier or she’s have been caught in it. It’s also ironic that we had been discussing heat and thirst only moments before a deluge. We have quite a few words for rain when you think about it. Deluge, as used a few words back, cloudburst, downpour, storm, squall, shower being just a few of them. At one time I would have said that this shows how much the British suffer from rain. However, as English is also spoken in Arizona, New Mexico and Nevada, which are not noted for their propensity for precipitation, this probably won’t hold up to scrutiny when comparing us to the Innuit and their snow vocabulary.
Sorry, that was a digression sparked off by use of the word deluge.
The pictures are fish and chips with mushy peas and a pickled egg. To describe me as a foodie would be inaccurate.
Fish, chips, mushy peas (a bit too dark for my liking) and a pickled egg.
I’ve never liked mushy peas on my chips, but I do quite like a pickled egg.
Each to his own. I know the subject came up a few weeks ago at the Numismatic Society – there is a definite North/South divide with regard to garden peas or mushy peas. For me, the best thing about mushy peas is that they stay on my fork where garden peas roll off. 🙂
I eat my peas with honey. I’ve done it all my life. It makes the peas taste funny. But it keeps them on the knife. Ogden Nash.
I thought of that as I wrote the reply, but I thought it was Winnie the Pooh. I am a man of very little brain . . .
I had a pickled egg period when I used to frequent public houses and was always hungry. Those days are past now.
I used to eat them as a pub snack but stopped going into pubs. A few years ago I started having them again, but this time probably only two or three times a year from the chip shop..
It takes a delicate palate to appreciate good fish, chips, mushy peas, and pickled eggs. I appreciate “propensity for precipitation”
I’m thinking of revisiting gherkins, as I haven’t had one for thirty or forty years. Every time you report having one I think of them. I may order some for tomorrow’s shopping. 🙂
That looks like a fine fish & chip and mushy peas dinner. I don’t think I have ever eaten a pickled egg.
Dry as an old bone here though itt is possible we will get some rain this weekend. 🙂 The ground is brick hard and hard to work now.
Ona continuum of fish and chip heaven – nice fish, good chips, and mushy peas are indispensable. Pickled eggs are not for everyone. 🙂