Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Affairs cheesy
Today, the first time for a long time, we indulged in macaroni cheese. So long that I had to look up the recipe. Used to be a regular when I was a child and for a long time after that. One recipe involved more cheese than macaroni so we scrubbed that as a tad too heavy, settling for a variation on the recipe printed on our packet of Mr. S. basic macaroni. First variation being the adding of a chopped onion to the melted flour before the flour. This makes the resultant sauce much less gluey; lightens it up a bit. Second variation being the floating of two half tomatoes in the macaroni cheese immediately prior to scattering grated cheese and placing in oven. Interestingly, the two half tomatoes only just floated in the macaroni cheese mix. Raw macaroni sinks so must be heavier than water; cheese is pretty fatty so presumably lighter than water. Presumably the mix was close to water neutral, that is to say the same as the tomato. Result very good if a little heavy for senior digestions and waistbands. I think I might used six half tomatoes rather than two the next time. Another useful lightening touch.
Yesterday, the first time for a while, woke up to two odd dreams.
The first involved my needing to go to the optician, a chap called Roper, that I used as a child. The shop was still there (in the dream, that is. Long gone in real life) and Roper was still there, alive although very old. As he was so very old and not able to move about much, the drill was that I sat in something like a dentist chair, with my head in a sort of clamp, at one end of the consulting room, while he sat in something similar at the other end. But he had some kind of remote control apparatus, the main function of which appeared to be to drive a shaver on the end of an arm coming out of the back of my chair and with which he, very laboriously, proceeded to shave me, rather badly. There was also some very rudimentary optical activity which involved us both kneeling on the carpet around his box of tricks as he was unable to stand up. Not very convinced that the consultation had been worth while. My eyes needed better care than Roper was able to offer.
Perhaps this is the brain's tactful way of telling me that it is time for me to visit the dentist, which indeed it is. Or perhaps that it knows something about my eyes which I don't.
The second involved a rather troublesome journey from London Bridge to Waterloo. Started out on the northern river bank somewhere near London Bridge. Down among the old wooden piles and all the detritus washed up onto the bank. I know I am on the north bank so I ought to be able to deduce direction, but don't. But I do know that I need to head west. Not enough sun visible to work out direction from that. Hills vaguely in the distance in one direction. Office buildings in the other. Decide that the best bet is to head for the hills, deemed to be those of west London. After a bit, change my mind and head back again. After a bit, the sky ahead clears and I get a sight of Canary Wharf in the distance. Right first time after all. About turn again. Decide that it is getting rather late so get a bus. A very crowded bus which seems to be heading vaguely in the right direction. Pick up BH and FIL somewhere along the way. Somehow, the bus drops me off at Bow, which is not where I want to be at all. Luckily another very crowded bus comes along which we are told will get us to Waterloo. All three of us pile on. Bus takes off through all kinds of dark and twisting streets which gradually morph into a dark and twisting (urban) canal. A rather dirty one at that. We seem to be heading north rather than the south west desired. The bus has morphed into some kind of large speed boat with me at the very front of the thing. Pounding the waves in a very alarming manner. Bang. Bang. Bang. All seems rather dangerous and most unlikely that we are going to get to Waterloo any time soon. Wake up. No idea what could have brought this on, let alone what it might mean.
Back in the real world, moved to enquire of a second Newky Brown web site about a certain batch of ale being served at TB which is continuing to taste a bit odd. (See August 5). After decades of regularity. Now this web site is very flashy indeed, all style and no content as far as I can see. See for yourself at http://newcastlebrown.com/. But it did include a customer service email address so I try that. Not may hours later a computer at the other end suggests that I phone some number in the US, helpfully explaining when their ET working hours are. Helpfully explaining how important my feedback on the packaging of the product is to the Newky Brown Corporation. Quite clear that the computer has not attempted to read my email. Or given it a call number or anything like that. Nevertheless, less than an hour later I work out what ET means in GMT and how to phone the US, something I have not done for a long time. Call answered in less than 10 rings by a gentleman with an accent clearly of the US. Why are you phoning me sir? You sound English and this is the Newky Brown care operation for our US customers on behalf of Heineken USA Consumer Affairs. I explain. Ah sezzee. Point 1, we have certainly not changed the recipe. Point 2, I will see if I can get you the right numbers to call. Which after a few minutes hold he does. Tomorrow I may try them. In the meantime, no offer to forward my email - which I do not think he was able to locate - to the appropriate authorities. Score 2 out of 10 so far. Maybe it will get better.
# posted by Jim @ 11:25 AM 
