The measure of a person can be judged by what they do.
Surgeons, astronauts, lifeboatmen, care nurses, single mothers … All heroic; all up there on the very top rank of peopledom.
You may be a volunter nurse, working with
Medeçin Sans Frontiers;
You may be a freedom fighter;
You may sail single-handed around the world;
You may like to climb mountains (hi, Rog);
You may be a great writer (hi, Frances);
You may like to … whatever; you get the gist …
Me? I like to sit alone in the dark in my studio, clicking on the random "next blog" switch ...
Which is where I discovered Fluff (thanks, Sassy).
You can reach Sassy's blog by clicking on the "Intelligent America" link in the sidebar. There you will see a splendid series of photos of a biggish jar with the word "Fluff" on the front, on tour in Europe and America.
Fluff has even been photographed on Liar's Lawn, just round the corner from my office (that patch of grass outside the Houses of Parliament where the politicians get interviewed on TV).
Fluff intrigues me; I'm that kind of guy. I have to know more, and Sassy obliges with the revelation that "Fluff is a thick marshmallow sauce, sticky (unbelievably so … getting it off one's face is almost impossible) in consistency, and sweeter than anything on this Earth."
Now I was raised in England, not long after the end of rationing. I'm used to eating wet, overcooked cabbage, thin slices of grey gristly stuff, watery gravy, twigs and berries … Now I discover there is a substance like a black hole made entirely of sugar. And I can put it in my mouth! WOW! According to legend, it's only available in New England, not Old … Bugger!
I sense the atavistic urge for a quest …
We must have a specialist deli somewhere in London. We have shops where you can buy Japanese food, Portuguese food, Polish food, chips with gravy in a tray (corner of Strutton Ground Market in Westminster, if you're feeling peckish); why not an American deli? A magical kingdom where the staff are actually nice to you. And deep in the mysterious recesses, shelves bursting with exotic delights: alfalfa and sassafras; intoxicating cajun spices; pork bellies; hominy grits and Bazooka Joe (what the hell is a hominy grit?); and there at last, glowing with golden light: the holy grail: Fluff!
I've put some odd stuff in my mouth over the years, yet the box marked "Fluff" remains frustratingly unticked. When I get hold of some, it's gonna be Operation Dessert Storm! Let's dissolve some teeth.
I once spent fifteen years as a veggie, but wound up one day in a sushi bar where it all ended in tears. I've eaten things with any amount of legs/fins/tentacles/protuberances, though I try to steer clear of endangered species (except くじら; sorry guys, but I love it).
Egrets: I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention (sorry, Frank).
But なっと (natto) still defeats me. …
Natto: what the fuck is that all about? You get some soya beans, let them go really manky, then pour a load of two-pack epoxy glue over 'em. Stickier than a whole mountain of sticks, with an aroma like a tramp has wanked into a bag of dry roast peanuts. Life's too short to put that in your mouth.
Your homework this weekend:
I'm fed up with the telephone game. Play it amongst yourselves if you want, but it'll only appear here again when I can think of a really good one. In fact, the whole homework thing may come and go, depending on my mood. Anyway:
Today's track to track down: Hallelujah by Susanna and the Magical Orchestra. Weird Norwegian girl takes old Leonard Cohen song and holy fuck! This is GOOD!
Today's fact: Beetroot juice can be used to remove minor stains from upholstery and soft furnishings.
