food glorious food
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Got back on Saturday from a much-needed family break in Northumberland, then it was off to St Andrews on Monday for my Inklight reading, stopping off en route in Edinburgh for lunch with fellow HappenStance poet James Wood. With a bit of time to kill between lunch and my train to Leuchars, I popped into
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The Scottish Parliament’s canteen, following triumphs such as “Cumbernauld sausage” (I kid you not, though I was off at the time so I didn’t see it myself), “Scotch broth soup” (stock, barley and tautology) and “cous-cous tabouleh” (I was under the impression it could either be cous-cous or tabouleh, people) is today offering “haggis broth”.
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No apologies for the silence over the past fortnight or so, as I’ve quite enjoyed the wee break. We returned a week ago from seven days in Caradale on the Kintyre peninsula and life has been quite busy since. The weather in Kintyre was very mixed, but the scenery was (as the photos below show)
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Why would anyone pay £1.50 for a pomegranate? I like them and all that, but £1.50 for a single piece of fruit? Oh yes, silly me: they’re superfoods, a class of comestible scientifically proven to make the marketing managers salivate three times as fast.* We got two for 35p apiece from the reduced-to-clear basket the
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I’ve only ever got hooked on two–ahem–reality TV shows: Musicality and Masterchef. Both, of course, are basically talent shows with a reality TV element injected into them. (Perhaps we could call them soft reality TV rather than the hard reality [sic] TV of, say, Big Brother. Who I’m not watching. Ever. Sorry.) Both also lack
Amy Jo Philip 