Last evening I had a hot shower and was tucked up in my warm bed in time to watch Jamie and Jimmy’s Friday Night Feast on Channel 4. I quite like Jimmy, for we watched him in TV and visited his farm out in Essex – first with Heather and Marlon, and later with Richard and Stine. On the last occasion we were fascinated by the fact that all the animals took an instant liking to Richard, so much so that we had to drag him away or he would still be there today. I have not visited any emporium owned by Jamie, but I am aware that my eldest son takes him very seriously in the recipe business.
It would appear that Jamie and Jimmy have taken over the slim café at the end of Southend Pier (I say ‘slim’ because it is just that and swinging a cat in there would be risky), invited some Essex Lads and Lasses, and engaged Actor David Tennant to do the cooking for them. Now I find it difficult to remember what I had for dinner yesterday, but David recalled that some ten years or so in the past he had eaten a particular Italian dish in – Italy, where else. He even knew the name of the chef who knocked it up for him. And Jamie helpfully traced both the restaurant and the chef – but left them in Italy, which was a bit sad. But all of this was great fun, although I did spot that a lady in whites was standing very near David and almost certainly doing all the real cooking.
I was reminded of this when I returned from shopping in the town shortly after one this afternoon. Feeling hungry but not wishing to spend time with recipe books and being unable to remember what I had eaten when I visited Italy – twice – in the 1980s, I wandered to the summerhouse (shed-with-the-overhang) at the bottom of the garden. There I delved into the freezer and returned to the microwave with a box of my own homemade vegetable stew (circa early 2015 which was a good year for vegetables). Five minutes later I tucked into the warming and tasty vegetables – and very good they were too. It did not take an hour, nor did I have to persuade a gang of Essex Lads and Lasses to enjoy it with me (although there are sufficient boxes in the freezer to feed a goodly number of them should they wish to call by).
Whilst enjoying the stew, I thumbed my way through THE GUARDIAN Colour Supplement. Bridget Christie brought smiles as she propositioned the idea that the Prime Minister might give parenting lessons personally himself – rather than merely floating the idea as he has done day after day after day for the past week or so – but she hesitated, asking if anyone would wish to listen to a man who forgot that he had left his young daughter in a pub toilet and is said to have done some very odd things in his youth with a pig.
Turning the page, I enjoyed my weekly dose of Tim Dowling, shed a few tears (of sadness, for normally Tim makes me laugh) as he regaled us with the story of his visit to the Vet in the company of his wife and two of his sons to be present as the Old Dog joined his mates in the sky.
I did not read the story of the man who fell down an escalator. That was too near home by far. In the days when Eurostar docked at London’s Waterloo Station, Yvonne and I alighted from a weekend in Paris. With luggage piled on a trolley, we approached the travellator only to discover that it was in fact an escalator. It was highly fortunate that the man in front of my trolley weighed about 20 stone and was big with it, for he merely turned round and allowed the trolley to rest on his ample chest – thus saving a major catastrophe.
An advertisement page made me wonder if I really should be reading this newspaper at all, for the ‘cultural, guided tours, worldwide’ were priced way, way beyond my reach. But then I have no wish to spend 11 nights in the Search for El Dorado at £2,285 nor would I hanker after doing the Classical Tour of Vietnam at the knock down price for 13 nights of £1,695 – for which, I noted ‘extensions are available’.
I was pleased to see that this week’s Blind Date couple actually enjoyed the evening eating at Haunt in N16 and might meet again. Most times the couples in this column appear to dislike each other from the moment the first mouthful went into their greedy little mouths. Having been upset by their behaviour in the past I now read the final sentence to see if they will meet up again – if the answer is “yes” or “maybe” or even “perhaps”, I go back to the beginning and read the complete page.
