Priest, schoolchildren and cream… yup, this should end well

WTF?? And the parents back him up too!

Reminds me of the French priest back in the Nineties who took his little ‘scout’ troop (which was not affiliated with any official movement) sailing in horrible weather with no safety measures whatsoever, causing several teenagers to drown. He of course ended up in court, with the dead kids’ parents running a campaign for the “holy man” to be released without charge!

“To be deprived of our dear Abbé in these painful hours is perhaps a loss even more painful than that of our children” said Dominique Buchet, father of one of the drowned teenagers, 13-year-old Antoine.

Sometimes you just can’t tell Catholicism from a cult. Maybe that’s the point.

Eating in England is exasperating

Especially the ones who keep repeating “it’s just not true that British food is bad, these days there are wonderful British-grown ingredients and produce everywhere and there are Michelin-starred restaurants all over the UK”, etc etc.

They’re totally missing the point. Of course there’s great stuff here – like there is everywhere – and your palate will be in heaven… if you can cook it all yourself or afford the best restaurants. If, on the other hand, you rely on ordinary British people, even professional (but not Michelin-starred) chefs to feed you, well… it’s miss and miss. Sorry, I meant hit and miss.

Love the pics in the post. They totally capture the blandness, stodginess and boringness of “traditional British food”, cooked in the easiest, laziest, least imaginative way, showing no interest whatsoever in adding a bit of wow factor or even, let’s go crazy, flavour. Not even a tiny sprinkle of chopped parsley on the carrots? And check out the thickness of those slices!

Amusingly, British TV chefs are always going on about wonderful French and Italian dishes containing “only a couple of ingredients cooked very simply”. Yes, but they’re still very tasty and don’t look like a culinary punishment either. And that’s exactly what the Brits can’t do!

Maybe there’s just not enough demand for appetising food though. Only in this country have I heard so many people say almost proudly “food is only fuel to me”, as if enjoying the act of eating were a sin. It’s like living in Babette’s Feast, but with more chips.

When I was working as an au pair, my employer once cooked some mash for her daughter and me. She boiled the potatoes, mashed them up and served them. No butter, milk or anything else. It was like eating warm cement and I had stomach ache for hours afterwards. It was unpleasant to say the least. The little girl ate the lot without batting an eyelid.

People always find it weird that I love Indian food so much, but can you blame me when the alternative is so utterly sad, not to mention vastly overpriced most of the time?

Yesterday, this happy Slytherin (see previous post) read the following notification on Pottermore:

“Congratulations on winning the inaugural Pottermore House Cup. As part of your reward, you will be able to explore the first chapters of HARRY POTTER and the Chamber of Secrets before members of other houses.”

OK, cool 🙂

On the Pottermore Insider blog, they also specified that “only students who were in Slytherin when the inaugural Pottermore House Cup was awarded, will get early access.”

Sounds clear enough, yes? Obviously not for some people. I just read a reader’s comment on a fellow snake’s blog, saying (I’m paraphrasing)

“Wait, they said only Slytherin accounts that existed when the House Cup was awarded will get the reward. Does that mean ‘people who were logged in at that precise time’ or ‘people who already had an account when the ceremony occurred’?”

Well, what on earth was confusing about the original announcement? If the Pottermore people meant ‘logged in’ they would have said ‘logged in’, right? Words have meaning, especially technical words.

I come across this kind of strange attitude (“they said A so does that mean A or B”?) on a regular basis and I just can’t understand why. It seems there are people out there who absolutely insist on second-guessing everything and making life as complicated as possible. Not sure what they get out of it, apart from headaches…

Now this is what I call a victory:

Severus is delighted!

A little conversation at work made my brain hurt a bit.

Male (French-speaking) Colleague: By the way, is your husband English or French?
Me: He’s British, yeah, but we’re not married, I told you that the other day.
Male Colleague: Oh, I know, I just called him that out of respect.

What is that supposed to mean? Where is the respect in what he said? He flatly ignored what I told him and went on his misguided little crusade anyway!

Did he feel sorry for me for living with some horrible man who wouldn’t commit, and try to cheer me up by giving me the title he thinks I’m entitled to? Was he doing me the dubious honour of treating me like the respectable married woman I should be instead of the living-in-sin hussy I actually am? (He’s an Algerian Muslim, I kind of expect the worst).

Because, quite frankly, this what it sounded like to me: “I’ll inflict my idea of respect on you whether you like it or not!”

God only knows how the male mind works.

Irritatingly, I couldn’t ask him to explain his thought process there and then as there were people working all around us and we’re not really supposed to be chatting in the first place.

This guy is friendly enough but does come up with bizarre statements now and again*. I hope this is just a case of aiming for ‘considerate’ and missing by a country mile. I hope.

*The other day I was reading 1984 during my break. He turns up:

MC: Oooh, reading! You’re a studious one, aren’t you?
Me: Er… I read for pleasure…
MC: And in English too! French literature is better, don’t you think?
Me: Well, no. There’s lots of good stuff to be found in English literature too.
MC: Nah, French literature is better because the language is so much more beautiful. English… pah!
Me: I, er, like both… (I’m pretty speechless by this point)
MC: Definitely better. (walks away)

Libanese from Romanzo Criminale

Our cat Mr Chat

(warning – very loud!)

OK. I have to ask: who on earth approved this campaign? Are they CRAZY?

Isn’t it bad enough having to put up with this kind of maddening noise in real life (my local supermarket in particular is a nest of brats)? Are we supposed to go “Awww” at the ‘lovely’ little girl who’s overwhelmed by her wonderful present? Come on, everybody knows a real child would only be furious at not getting an iSomething or other! I do go out sometimes, you know.

Halfords bikes are badly-put-together-by-indifferent-Chinese-workers shit anyway. Only a hated red-headed stepson should get one for Christmas.