Jamon

Here is one of the first stories I saw while flicking through news sites over my early morning coffee today. 

White Trash

It is not what caused my angst yesterday, but it could easily have been. I ran into similar issues yesterday - the folks who usually trash Spain, Greece and Turkey at this time of year on their drunken rampages are stuck “at home”.

My mood was lifted soon after, by seeing the latest social media post from a committed Gammon*. Well, he should be committed… Anyway, I had the misfortune of seeing one of his posts at the beginning of January, as he triumphantly announced the days of milk and honey had finally arrived.

He owns a business which must be massively reliant on imports, so this level of idiocy puzzled me. 

His latest post is a shot of his desk covered in all the paperwork he now needs to import stock from the EU, accompanied by complaints about how things now have to be ordered - literally - months in advance and take weeks to deliver, whereas before January it took a few days. 

My hunch is he will be blaming it on the EU. 

I am not laughing. The delays and bureaucracy add cost. You and I will be paying for it (if you are stuck on Plague Island like me). 

Episode 28 of my quest to find ways to eat all the courgettes from my garden featured soup today. Yes, in July. Yes, it was hot soup. 

I was sceptical about all the positive vibes in Nigella’s description of the recipe (she’s not my type anyway) but decided to give it a try. It was delicious. Hats off to her. I take it all back (her father is still a cretin of course). 

Blipped. Ideal with a glass of eau de Fife, and an aspirin on the side. 

Soup 


* Ed. Note:- A colloquialism for the typical Brexit fan, so chosen because they often have bright pink faces combined with the IQ of a boiled ham. The word derives from the French “jambon” or Spanish “jamon” of course, so it is incredibly appropriate.