The shopping arrived just before 9.00 tonight. Still no parsnips. I suspect that sinister forces are at work. One week can be an accident, but two weeks is starting to look like a plot. There is also, according to the delivery driver, a national shortage of tinned tomatoes, which is why we ended up having tomatoes with Italian herbs. This is not a problem, I can cope with herby tomatoes. The parsnips, on the other hand are beginning to take up too much of my thinking.
No eggs again this week. We could have free range eggs but no economy eggs. This, I feel, is part of the plot to get rid of poor people. First they add to our tax burden, then they cut off our fuel supplies. Now they ensure that only middle-class foods are available (you never hear of a shortage of quinoa, do you?). In time, like cash and Izal, the famously useless glazed toilet paper, we will cease to exist.
I don’t usually talk about my dreams. This is partly because I forget them easily, and partly because other people’s dreams are usually boring. It’s also because I don’t want to give anyone an opportunity for Freudian imaginings. I assure you that if I, was in the habit of dreaming about parsnips it would be because of the supply situation, and they would definitely be parsnips.
However, I recently had a very strange dream. It featured a doctor telling me that my latest blood test indicated that my left hand lung, liver and kidney were all being starved of nutrients. For the moment let’s ignore the fact I don’t have two livers, I’m not sure how that sneaked in. It seems that the reason for this nutrient deficiency is because I do up my trouser belt too tightly.
I will leave you with that thought, and find some pictures. The header is a reminder of the time we could still obtain root vegetables.
