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(aka Bike) Part 1824 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad
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When I told Phoebe what happened in the nail studio she almost strangled herself with her seatbelt through laughing. She had washed off most of her eye makeup with tears of laughter by the time we got back and she was still snorting even then.
The upshot was the college accepted her and found by some miracle that the local education authority would fund her course. It was still going to cost me though, they gave her a list of things she needed to get and it was as long as my arm, from scissors to overalls and other bits and pieces.
We were given a second list of places that sold these items and one or two were online suppliers, which made it look as if they might be cheaper. She would also be expected to acquire several books on things like the biology of skin and hair. Although they had them in the library, they were constantly out on loan. She would start on the following Monday and they gave her a schedule of her classes.
She said she felt quite confident as she’d just done GCSE biology and she was pretty sure their academic standards weren’t that high. As soon as we got home, I ordered the four books she needed from Amazon and asked for next day delivery. I also ordered several of the other items which would arrive next week. We could get her an overall from John Lewis if it were necessary until everything arrived.
I handed her back her list, having ticked the things I’d ordered. “Wow, I’ll never be able to pay you back all this, Cathy.”
“I don’t remember saying you owed me anything.”
“But you can’t pay for all this.”
“Why not?”
“Um–you’re not my um–mother, sorry, that sounded unkind.” She blushed and looked very contrite, which gave her a sort of vulnerable beauty.
“I know I’m not your mum, and I wouldn’t think about trying to be. I am however, standing in for her at the moment and that means I’m allowed to do things like help pay for things you need.”
“Neal should pay for me, he’ll have access to Mum’s money.”
“I’ve spoken to Neal about it, we’ll settle up later.” I hadn’t, he had mentioned it, but I didn’t take him up on the discussion. He did, however, agree to give Phoebe a monthly allowance of fifty pounds just for things like makeup or CDs. I’d also sub her if it became necessary. What I had said to Neal was that anything he wanted to give me should be put in a savings account in Phoebe’s name and not to tell her about it until she was a bit older. Kids and money are usually soon parted.
I’d checked Julie’s room for her text books but I was pretty sure she’d sold them, even though it was I who bought them. That’s kids for you. I must have been the exception, I still had my textbooks from university and glad I was for them too, they helped me with my own teaching.
Phoebe was sitting with little Catherine on her lap, they were both fast asleep on the sofa in the lounge, which was why I wouldn’t let the girls put the telly on. Tom had collected them for me. He also said he wanted a word, or as he said, ‘a worrrd.’
I sat there while he told me I wasn’t teaching this coming term. For a moment I wondered if he’d just sacked me, however, he hadn’t. I was to do tutorials for about twenty first years–harder work than formal teaching and finish my dissertation. Apparently the sooner I had doctor in front of my name the better he’d like it. So, like it or lump it that was my job until Christmas. Wonderful.
David was roasting something that smelt absolutely wonderful. “Guess what it is?” he teased.
“I have no idea, except chicken.”
“Nope, it’s badger–one got hit by a car outside this morning.”
“You’re joking?” I gasped, suddenly it didn’t smell so nice.
“Nope.”
“I can’t eat badger.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not a herbivore, to start with.”
“Neither are pigs, and you eat them.”
“That’s different.”
“How?” he challenged.
“Eating badger would be like eating someone’s dog.”
“They do in China and Korea.”
“I don’t care what they do, I’m not. Besides how d’you know it isn’t infected with something?”
“It’ll be thoroughly cooked–should kill everything.”
“I can’t believe you’d butcher a road kill.”
“Why, it was dead–same as the meat in Tesco.”
“Dunno, my mum once reckoned she had a chicken that was still moving–mind you it was pretty green in colour and ronked a bit.”
“She got that in Tesco?”
“No idea where she got it, but it was during some time when some condemned meat got back into the food chain.”
“Oh yeah, I remember reading about that–the people who did it should have been shot.”
“I think it was organised crime–like the scum who sold that contaminated cooking oil in India or Africa, wherever it was.” I couldn’t quite recall where it happened.
“Yeah, they should have made them drink it all.”
“Or fried them in it,” I suggested feeling very self-righteous.
“Yeah, after making ’em drink it, internal basting.”
“I’m still not eating badger.”
“Badger–yuck,” declared Trish.
“I don’t believe it’s a badger, smells like chicken to me,” I said and opened the oven. Before me stood a chicken which someone had sprinkled two lots of seasoning to make it look like the black stripes on a badger’s head.
Trish took a quick look and ran off squealing. Two minutes later we had a deputation telling us they weren’t going to eat badger, no matter what.
“You can explain to them, it was just a joke,” he asked me.
“No way, you can tell them.”
“But they won’t believe me.”
“Oh well, just goes to show how successful a prank it was–a bit schoolboyish, but successful. They’ll have to have a sandwich instead.”
“But they like chicken,” he protested.
“They love chicken, but they don’t believe it’s chicken, so you can explain.”
“But, Cathy...”
“Nothing to do with me, although I suspect there will be more for me and Simon won’t disapprove if there’s more for him.”
He went off to speak with the girls who were making disgusting noises when he talked with them. Sometimes they’re just as bad as boys–even big ones like David or Simon.
When Si and Sammi got home Meems tried to tell him we had badger for dinner.”
“Oh good,” he said, “now four of us can have a leg.”
“It was wun over in the woad, Daddy.”
“So?”
“It’s not cwean.”
“I’m sure David washed it a bit, besides it was raining this morning, so that would have washed it. You can always have furry bit, which will clean your teeth as you chew.”
“Yuck, Daddy, you jokin’.”
“Who me?” he said but his face cracked into a smile and she jumped at him and he carried her off out of the kitchen.
“It’s not badger, is it?” asked Sammi.
“No,” I reassured her.
“Phew, thank goodness for that.”
“No, it’s toad in the hole made with real toads,” I smiled.
“Ugh,” was her response before she ran out of the kitchen.
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Comments
That Made Me Chuckle
That reminds of the old question:
How many Arkansas (insert your school of choice: Cambridge, Oxford, etc.) graduates does it take to eat an armadillo?
Ans: Three
Two have to look out for cars.
Portia
Roadkill
My Brother-in-law used drive down country roads to get to his work. About once every three weeks, he would return with a roadkill pheasant.
Hang them for about five days, and you have a marvellous meal, and far cheaper than paying to go on a shoot.
I was once told
by someone ( and tbh i don't know if its the truth )that if i was driving down the road and had the misfortune to hit a pheasant and kill it that by stopping to pick it up i would have committed an offence.... According to that person that would be classed as poaching, If however i was following the person who killed the poor bird and stopped to pick it up that would be okay as then it would be classed as roadkill....
Like i say i'm not sure if that was just a piece of whimsey but it certainly fits in with some of the laws in the UK that would almost impossible to enforce. And if i'm really honest would i really want to eat a bird who had just been hit by a car... Heaven knows what its insides would be like..
Kirri
Technically, it is an offence, but ...
there is a very simple work-round.
Perfectly legally, my brother-in-law would move the roadkill off the public highway, and leave it on the side of the road. He would then text GPS co-ordinates to a fellow officer (My brother-in-law was stationed on one of the RAF bases that dot the flatlands of eastern England) who would pick the pheasant up. At similar intervals, he would receive a text of GPS coordinates from a fellow officer, and pick up any roadkill he found. It skirts round the law, but it's accepted practice all round East Anglia.
Cathy's is something of an expert
On badger poo .
Toad in the hole made with real toads. Makes me think of Cottage Pie, made with real cottage . Shepherd's Pie made with real shepherd.... The list goes on and on.
S.
Or the line from Addams Family 2
"I'm selling Girl Scout Cookies."
"Are they made with real Girl Scouts?"
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
Cathy's is something of an expert
On badger poo .
Toad in the hole made with real toads. Makes me think of Cottage Pie, made with real cottage . Shepherd's Pie made with real shepherd.... The list goes on and on.
S.
Or ...
... Bakewell Pudding with real bakewells? I suppose as Bakewell is largely bricks, mortar and stone it'd be a bit crunchy :)
That condemned meat was discovered in Derbyshire, near us. Quite a scandal at the time and made me glad I don't eat meat, even, despite my name, venison.
Robi
Or Girl Scout cookies
made from real girl scouts.
Much Love,
Valerie R
How about...
Spotted Dick? :)
Legend has it the dish was a delicacy in York in early April 1739... :D
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1824
What is toad in the hole?
May Your Light Forever Shine
Toad in the hole
See the attached.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toad_in_the_hole
Angharad
I always thought it sounded like 'toe in a hoe'
Not very appetizing sounding :)
Kim
Toad in the Hole
Love it, but I have yet to find the perfect accompaniment, tried jams, jellies, syrup, powdered sugar and cinnamon/sugar but think the real maple syrup was the best...
I am thinking about sweetening the batter first and try it straight up
Bravo Tom!
It's about time Cathy finished her dissertation and her PhD!
LOL over the dinner.
I bet they'd eat venison ...
if that was road-kill.
Nice one And.
X
Bev.
Road kill with hunting license.
I once had the most damnable car ever made called a Ford Maveric. It was made in the years when they were just getting started with emission control, and the car had a seconds long hesitation on acceleration and when it rained you were apt to wind up anywhere when you stepped on the brakes. Can't remember the year, though, 71' maybe.
So, one evening on the way home, I came round a corner and there was a spike in the road. I meant to brake, but then thought, "What the hell, I have a license". So, I stepped down on the accelerator hard, and the car caught and coughed but I did eventually hit the deer, but he slid up on the hood, my having goosed him, and I was looking right at his back bottom. I thought I had killed him, but he simply slid off the hood and ran for the hills.
I don't know what the moral of the story is?
Sister Rambo
Gwendolyn
GO CATHY!
And give thanks to Tom for this roundabout way to complete your fud. I am lead to believe that he thinks it is time for you to complete it. GO CATHY!!
Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?
Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm
GO CATHY!
And give thanks to Tom for this roundabout way to complete your fud. I am lead to believe that he thinks it is time for you to complete it. GO CATHY!!
Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?
Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm
This Reminds Me Of Something My Uncle Did
This chapter reminds me of something my late uncle did once. One very cold morning, he got my cousin up and ready for school and walked him out to the bus. The bus came along and a rabbit darted out in the road in front of the bus and got hit. After the bus left, my uncle picked the rabbit up and dressed it out. That evening, we were sitting there eating dinner and my cousin asked where the rabbit came from, that we had. My uncle told him it was the one hit by the school bus. He called his mother on the phone and said "Daddy fed me roadkill for Supper" Years before that, he was teaching my cousin, Heather, how to drive. She tried to swerve and miss hitting a rabbit, but she did anyway. They pulled into the driveway back at the house and my uncle got out of the car and started walking up the hill to see if the rabbit was worth picking up, but it wasn't. Of course, when your parents grew up in the Depression, you learned not to waste anything. That was why he did what he did.
This Reminds Me Of Something My Uncle Did
This chapter reminds me of something my late uncle did once. One very cold morning, he got my cousin up and ready for school and walked him out to the bus. The bus came along and a rabbit darted out in the road in front of the bus and got hit. After the bus left, my uncle picked the rabbit up and dressed it out. That evening, we were sitting there eating dinner and my cousin asked where the rabbit came from, that we had. My uncle told him it was the one hit by the school bus. He called his mother on the phone and said "Daddy fed me roadkill for Supper" Years before that, he was teaching my cousin, Heather, how to drive. She tried to swerve and miss hitting a rabbit, but she did anyway. They pulled into the driveway back at the house and my uncle got out of the car and started walking up the hill to see if the rabbit was worth picking up, but it wasn't. Of course, when your parents grew up in the Depression, you learned not to waste anything. That was why he did what he did.
Eatin' o'possum
My stepfather hit one with the car once and put it in the boot. When he got home, he went to get it out, it had come back to life and was quite aggressive with him. For some reason, the boot smelled awful forever after. Mom thought that hitting him with the car had punctured his spleen and that accounted for the ripe odor. When he suggested that she cook it, "The Thunder Rolled".
G
Eat your roadkill!
Our pastor originally came from Saint Louis, Missouri. Coming up to rural Michigan was a bit of culture shock for his family.
One day, while driving the rural roads, he hit a deer. They did the usual bit of noting the damage and getting a police report. After all was said and done, one of the bystanders asked, "Are you done with that?" (indicating the deer.)
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
So the guy proceeded to throw it into the back of his pickup and drive off.
Pastor Dan looked at his wife and said, "We just moved to a place where they eat their roadkill."
Hey, it was fresh. :-)
A number of years ago, we ate the deer that my mom hit with her Buick. It was young and tender.
Strange Career
As I was walking into the public library one day, I saw a man who was carrying a copy of David Humes' A Treatise of Human Nature and whose arms were covered in bandages. I felt compelled to speak with him and I asked him about himself.
"Shaving badgers is my trade. I am a badger shaver. My name is Roger the Badger Shaver. I catch, hold, and shave badgers. Badgers are not the most cheerful creatures under the best of circumstances, and being shaved bald does nothing to improve their overall disposition," Roger the Badger Shaver stated most stridently and authoritatively.
'Ahh, so THAT'S where badger hair shaving brushes come from!' I thought excitedly. 'I suspect that it might not be a career that I would be well suited to, however,' glancing again at his mangled forearms.