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In case anyone's curious, I've still got bad knees. I just stopped writing about them because I was boring even myself ;)
( Day 108 today, apparently )
( Day 108 today, apparently )
Don't be afraid of your freedom!
Dec. 8th, 2014 01:54 pmEvery time, Baxters, every time.
Today's lunch was a tin of Baxters' soup, hotted up in the office microwave. But yet again, I've fallen victim to one of the classic blunders.
Highlanders broth, according to their website, is "packed full with specially selected tender cuts of beef, lamb and a variety of vegetables including pearl barley for a deliciously warm and filling meal. Perfect after a walk in the hills!"
Scotch broth, on the other hand, is "a real meal of a soup; beef, mutton, potatoes and barley combine to create a rich and warming soup."
Not much difference, you'd think. Not so! The latter is lovely, the former basically tastes brown.
I am posting this here in the hopes that articulating the above will make me remember to buy Scotch broth, not Highlanders broth, in the future. Perhaps if I form a policy of not purchasing inadequately apostrophised soup all will be well.
Today's lunch was a tin of Baxters' soup, hotted up in the office microwave. But yet again, I've fallen victim to one of the classic blunders.
Highlanders broth, according to their website, is "packed full with specially selected tender cuts of beef, lamb and a variety of vegetables including pearl barley for a deliciously warm and filling meal. Perfect after a walk in the hills!"
Scotch broth, on the other hand, is "a real meal of a soup; beef, mutton, potatoes and barley combine to create a rich and warming soup."
Not much difference, you'd think. Not so! The latter is lovely, the former basically tastes brown.
I am posting this here in the hopes that articulating the above will make me remember to buy Scotch broth, not Highlanders broth, in the future. Perhaps if I form a policy of not purchasing inadequately apostrophised soup all will be well.
Argh. Once upon a time, my ability to break trains was legendary. Lenny, who worked on the platforms at Darlington station, used to ask my parents to warn him when I was coming home, because he knew there would be massive rail disruption that night.
I thought, in recent years, the trains and I had reached an understanding. Apparently not. We are without car at present, and I have been late for a variety of things because of act of train.
Today the plan was: train from Ealing at 10:46, change onto a fast train at Slough, get to Oxford in time to catch the one o'clock bus to Katie's, ready for a Mabel practice at two.
And lo, the gods pointed and laughed, and twiddled with the signals in Langley. I may get to Oxford in time for the two o'clock bus. Or I may not, in which case I will catch the next one and arrive at half three for a practice which finishes at four. Excellent.
On the plus side, when my train finally pulled in I sat down opposite ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
dr_bob and we had a nice hour-and-a-quarter chat during our twenty-minute journey.
Once - long, long ago - a major news event would occur and there'd be the usual comment of "... and I wonder how long it'll be before we start hearing the jokes about it?"
Now, thanks to twitter, you can be sick of the jokes before you've ever really digested the news.
It's less than 45 minutes since Liam Fox jumped, and I'm already thinking that if I hear one more comment about him having dropped his resignation letter in a bin in St James' Park I'll have to murder someone.
Now, thanks to twitter, you can be sick of the jokes before you've ever really digested the news.
It's less than 45 minutes since Liam Fox jumped, and I'm already thinking that if I hear one more comment about him having dropped his resignation letter in a bin in St James' Park I'll have to murder someone.
Oh. It's not an allergic reaction, then. It's a cold. Bugger. I don't remember ordering one of those.
