I can’t think of anything to blog about. Nothing. Nada. Hee-Haw.
This has never stopped me posting lame muck before of course, but at this point I really can’t think of anything that I want to sit down and write a post about. There’s no real reason for it: I’m busy at work, but isn’t everyone? Maybe this blog has reached the end of the line and it’s time to close the doors and start something new. So I thought in the meantime, I’d take a look in the Drafts Folder and post the stuff that I started but couldn’t finish (yes, I’m writing a post about posts I wasn’t able to write). I reckon you should think of it as a portmanteau post (and definitely not a jumble of ragtag muck that I’ve been too lazy to work up properly).
My Contribution to the Boo Fucking Hoo Literary Genre
This was to have been a post about how, if that Irish bloke can make a fortune out of maudlin rubbish like Angela’s Ashes, then surely I could come up with a similar memoir based on my childhood in the Highlands? I would have presented selected excerpts from Aye, Dad’s Pissing in the Sink Again, describing heartbreaking moments such as having to eat Red Pudding Suppers, watch Cannon & Ball on TV, and worst of all, go on holidays to Aberdeen. Then I realised that my childhood was probably neither deprived or depraved enough to fill the 300 pages or so I’d need to get on the shelves at Tesco, so I gave up.
Dead Pope’s Society
This was to have been a serious discussion about how I happened to be in Rome on the day the last Pope died and what that was like and how Italy went very weird indeed in the week or two afterward. Then I decided to write this silly crap about my favourite popes from history instead.
Weird Italian Magazines
Walking past a news stand a few weeks back I noticed this magazine on display:
Wow, I thought, a magazine entirely devoted to Wild Boars! Why, I bet it covers them all: brown ones, black ones, tame ones, ornery ones; it’s a magazine that meets all your wild boar needs. Probably worth buying for the recipes for sausages. Then I thought I could get a post about all the weird and wonderful magazines that you find over here. Until I realised that, actually there aren’t that many worth writing about, apart from maybe the ones on wristwatch porn.
Red Pudding suppers!
Lucky for all there was a choice of puddings between red and white, black or if you were that way inclined, haggis….
Jimmy, I had every supper you could possibly order from a Scottish chip shop: Fish, Red Pudding, Black Pudding, White Pudding, Haggis, King Rib (Barbecue, Chinese and Charcoal flavours), Polony, Pattie, Baconburger, Beefburger, Sausage … have I missed any?
My first taste of pizza was a deep fried slice that came with chips. I drew the line at the deep fried macaroni cheese, mind – what the devil was that about?
Pattie supper, now it has been years since I tried one of those…what about smoked sausage?
I can still be seen scoffing white pudding suppers from time to time when I can’t be arsed cooking – and I use the word ‘cooking’ very loosely
Of course, how could I forget the smoked sausage. It was a bit dear though, maybe that’s why. Wasn’t as pricey as the scampi or chicken but the King Rib was probably as expensive as I went. The thing about the King Rib was that it didn’t vary from one chip shop to the next. The sausage and beefburger were much more of a lottery.
Agreed on the varying levels of beefburger* and sausage quality, white puddings can be a bit of a lottery too – either they have that sticky consistency with plenty of a flavour or a soggy mass of grease held together only by the fragile grip of the batter
*as Mr Guzzler said in B’Stard’s New Statesman “brains, balls an’ all”
Hmmm, white pudding suppers.
Eatalias used to do the best, but when I passed yesterday, someone had demolished the interior, and reduced to random piles of wood. Not my fault.
The Montgomery Fish Bar remains the best chippy in Embra, so I tend to get the fish supper or fish tea, if I’m feeling flush and sit in. Everything they do is fantastic including the white pudding, although the haggis is particularly fine and spicy.
http://cdn.trustedplaces.com/i/uploads/placepics/ldc_1551b7g.c300×220.jpg
The homosexualists swear by http://www.lalbadoro.com/chippy.htm but I’ve never seen what the fuss is. Mebbe a special sauce I’m unfamiliar with.
Mr H
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You fucking fucker.
Mr H – So where about is Montgomery’s in the toon?
When the devil did they start doing mozzarella sticks in breadcrumbs in Edinburgh chip shops? You never used to get them in the Kingfisher.
Jimmy – it’s in Montgomery Street, hence the cunning name, just off Elm row, opposite Pearces.
Thumper – hence why homosexualists and Italians swear by it. Course even the Kingfisher has gone a bit posh, now its catering to Romanian strippers.