Dear me, I must have drifted off there for a moment....
You know how it is - you get preoccupied with something and before you know it, it's 2009, you've grown a beard, lost half your body weight and have contracted scurvy. At least, that's how it goes for me.
Now let me see, where was I? Oh yes...I was going to America. Well, actually, the memsahib and I went. And we were besotted with the Appalachian hills, the cool grace of Charleston, the elegance and panache of Savannah. I won't bore you with detail (or more accurately I will), save to say that I heartily commend the Gryphon Tea Room, Savannah; that I will probably bear the physical and mental scars of finishing a half-sized portion of ribs at "Sticky Fingers" in Charleston (highly palatable though they were) for the remainder of my life; that (possibly for reasons not unconnected to my last remark) America is home to both the fattest and the most appearance-obsessed people I have ever met; and that the inhabitants of the Southern Appalachians are the possesors of the most delightfully euphonic accents I believe I have heard in the Americas and perhaps the world. Oh, and that I ingested with relish the comestible substance that you earthlings call "grits".
America proved unsuitable for colonial expansion. Whilst it became apparent that it might be possible to acquire vast resources for a handful of beads, this was on the basis that one took on the existing debts. And frankly, that's a tad out of my range. So, the search continues.
Returning to Blighty, We flew over the Welsh coast at dawn. The whole country seemed to be silvery-white, for all the world as though it had been dusted with icing sugar (no poetic licence- that's exactly what it looked like). I thought it was snow - but as we slowly descended it became clear that the entire country was covered by a heavy frost. There was barely a cloud in the sky but wisps of mist threaded through the valleys and across lowlands. Small towns were waking up below us, sun blasting low over the frozen fields, dragging long shadows from the hedgrows. It was stunningly beautiful. A cold coming we had of it, but I still feel a strange thrill when I see my own country again. I may loathe the inhabitants - but I love the land.
And on that maudlin note, I shall end.
...Other than to express the hope that you all get exactly what you deserve in 2009 - and that I do not.
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4 comments:
ah yes, the lower appalachains, indeed the entire range, are a jewel of rugged splendor. it's a pity you did not exploit the chance to visit the shanandoah valley to the north. that, my dear springheel, is a sight to behold.
as for the food, i trust you were offered, in the custom of the dixie states, butter, salt, and pepper with your grits? in the north, the custom is to enjoy them with cream and sugar. although, it is not recommended you try these customs except in the presubscribed locations. to be sure, they are a delight in either manner of preparation.
as for the ribs; one is either a hypocrite or a liar to be obsessed with appearance while eating ribs. or lobster in the shell, for that matter.
Welcome back.
my dear Skorpeo,
I eat my porridge with salt (like any good North Briton) and so I automatically ate grits with butter, salt and pepper. And I saw that they were good.
And as for ribs, I concur with your view. Whilst I am (I hope obviously) a hypocrite and (being a public servant) a liar...I am also a follower of the great Dr Johnson and therefore I mind my belly too well to worry about appearance when feeding. The flesh and bones were exquisitely toothsome, although plethoric in their abundance. I fear it would take a rigorous training programme to get me into condition for a full portion.
i was raised eating my "grits" in the northern fashion (with cream and sugar), and it was not until early adulthood that i discovered the joys of the "savory grit". while i still enjoy the sweet, i must say, i more often than not, partake in the savory.
for a suitable training regimen in eating overabundant ribs, might i suggest an activity enjoyed by some of the masses during our independance day celebrations (in which we fought for the right to conduct such activities); the "hot dog eating contest". if you do partake, however, i hereby foreswear all responsibilty for your wellbeing, and that of impending loneliness when find your companions have departed in disgust.
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