The butcher that Rosalind remembers being on Berwick Street is alas no more. Had a lengthy conversation with two barrow boys on the market who told us that there are now NO BUTCHERS in the West End. They are all gorn. R has bacon in her fridge so I shall make do with that and see how it goes. What a shame eh? Where do all the media types go for their sausages – the big behomoths of supermarkets I guess.
Rosalind says that fat salt pork sounds a bit “wartime” anyhow. She doesn’t really like the sound of Boston Baked Beans either but is willing to give them a try. I am pleased that she is letting me rustle them up in her kitchen, the boat oven has to be turned on with pliers and there is no temperature indication on the dials so a modern cooker is a godsend. She says she has “never seen All About Eve all the way through” and now I am remembering that when I saw it myself the tape cut out just before the denouement. It must have been Rosalind who leant it to me in the first place.
So I went out with Wee Jimmie Krankie last night so he could tell me what he wanted me to hear. I arrived 5 minutes after the appointed meeting time and he was already tucking into some food. Isn’t that a bit rude? Basically it seems that what he wanted to explain was that after 10 years in a previous relationship he had tried to get out of several times he didn’t feel that he wanted to be in another one. He didn’t feel that he could be with just one person long term. That’s boyspeak for saying that he wants to sleep around isn’t it? Well so be it. Off you pop then. Good luck to you out there on the dating scene – especially in THOSE trousers.
