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Tea, old school


It was fine and hot today. We walked along the shingle beach at Littlestone to Romney Bay House, a big square pile built for Hedda Hopper in the late ’20s. Then, it was painted bright yellow and nicknamed the Mustard Pot. Now it’s white and a hotel. It stands off by itself right on the edge of the Channel.

We sat in the sunshine and ordered cream tea for two. It was us and the waiter, a dark man of indeterminate nationality. Not even the cook showed up today, so we couldn’t have sandwiches, but scones and jam and clotted cream would do us fine. Presently, a little fluffy dog trotted out of the house, curled up in the shade under our table and begged the occasional bit of scone.

To the North, the white cliffs of…Folkstone, actually. Dover is the next promontory up. Behind us, the local golf links. In front of us, the neat green lawn stretched right down to the beach and thence the sea. Big ships and little went up and down the Channel.

We heard subdued applause, and turned to see the English Women’s Golf Tournament had stolen up behind us and were making neat ladylike putts across the dunes. I shitteth thee not.

“Right! That’s it!” I banged on the table with the pommel of my Bowie knife, “somebody’s got ten seconds to find me a goddamned deep fried ‘possum barbecue sandwich before I start kicking limey ass!”

You really can’t give these people an inch.



Comment from jwpaine
Time: May 24, 2007, 7:44 pm

Had buttered kippers for breakfast yet? What I want to know is, who first put butter on a kipper and talked some knucklehead into eating it.

…And I thought the French would eat anything.

Comment from Gnus
Time: May 24, 2007, 7:57 pm

Clotted cream is such an inelegant term. Evokes an unpleasant visual,don’t you know, old chap.

I suppose I could google it and find out what it really is, but you know how lazy we inbreedin’ hill billies are.

Comment from Enas Yorl
Time: May 24, 2007, 8:15 pm

Oh, clotted cream is amazing. The richness of the stuff is indescribable. Here, read about it and buy some: Clotted Cream.

Comment from whitishrabbit
Time: May 24, 2007, 11:59 pm

lolol …the englishness. the englishethness? Whatever, we sent you off a Yankee Stoat and you’ll probly come home all Henry James.

Enas- wow. It looks good but it sounds bad. Clotted cream… the words evoke a major medical arterial predicament to my mind. Actually, that’s probly not too far off the mark.

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: May 25, 2007, 4:49 am

Oh, man. Clotted cream is amazing. Those balls of stuff in the dish that look like ice cream are the clotted cream. It tastes like cream, but it has a thick, gooey, spreadable consistency.

You takes yer scone (a biscuit with raisins in), you spread a thin layer of butter on it, a thick layer of clotted cream on that and top it off with raspberry jam.

I give you that “clotted” is not the best marketing angle. But, hey…spotted dick? Toad in the hole? Bangers and mash? Mr Brains frozen faggots? The Brits aren’t all poetry.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: May 25, 2007, 5:24 pm

God I do love bangers and mash! And shepherd’s pie, too. Haven’t had either in years, dammit. I want some now.

The calories and fats in ’em are so high they have to be written in exponential notation. Yum!

Mssr. Weasel: I always wondered – Do they call ’em bangers for the reason I suspect?

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: May 25, 2007, 5:58 pm

Hm. Bangers. We dost not know. I just tried looking it up and couldn’t find a reason why.

I managed to find frozen faggots, though. And I plan to eat them tonight, if I don’t get too rat-assed.

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