Thursday, September 28, 2006

Mouldy Old Dough

Jack, with typical teenage tastes, refuses to eat anything past its sell-by-date. My Grandad, on the other hand, would greedily grab as much as his 88-year old arms could carry from the mass of out-of-date produce available on the rogue stalls at the local market each week. Most of it would end up in food parcels doled out to me and any other relatives who, in his opinion, needed feeding up and/or helping out ( I suspect it was just me).

I always took them with graciousness, knowing how much it pleased him to be of practical assistance, but secretly ditching most of it the minute I arrived home or at best, a few days later. He could have spent the money more usefully on himself, but in all likelihood, that would only have been down the bookies.

I'd love to go back to those weekends, going round for a lunch that Grandad had cooked, wondering what we'd be served and hoping that our ironstone-bred stomachs would cope with it ( he'd been an army cook and old habits had stayed with him). I never suffered any ill effects, on the contrary, those were some of the loveliest lunches I have ever experienced, although not on a gastronomic level.

I'd also appreciate the goodie bags much more these days, not financially, but out of the sheer pleasure that Grandad had experienced from bagging a bargain and wanting to pass it on to me. There was nothing wrong with the stuff he bought. I'd probably even eat the tinned peaches nowadays.

Jack will come to understand this as he grows older.

This simple truth gives me immense hope.

Sell-by-dates might be a device for the supermarkets to limit their liability and increase their profits, but they are generally ignored by the older, wiser and more discerning clientele once they have the produce in their kitchens. Those same older, wiser and more discerning clients are the only thing that provide any prospect for blown, gone-to-seed, crows-footed, droopy-boobed still-sitting-on-the-shelf women past 30 of ever having sex again.


Blogger CeCe said...

Nice. Comparing 30+women to old produce. You're funny.

3:44 am  
Blogger Keshi said...

**are the only thing that provide any prospect for blown, gone-to-seed, crows-footed, droopy-boobed still-sitting-on-the-shelf women past 30 of ever having sex again.

lol I dun think many 30+ women wud appreciate that :):)


6:23 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yep, I believe some sell-by-dates are on there for the modern woman to go through her fridge binning produce that's well past its prime, even if at the time it looked like a good buy.
I usually test my stuff by look and feel, not by the label...

9:38 am  
Blogger Frontier Editor said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

10:27 am  
Blogger Frontier Editor said...

Methinks my male colleague above was incredibly wise AND subtle at the same time.

I, on the other hand, would just blurt out that you're selling yourself and canned peaches way short. Putting yourself in photos with wax statues of Garnet Wolseley, Lord Kitchener and Claude Auchinleck doesn't help the marketing either ;^D>

How many Americans do you know who can rattle off three British generals other than Monty, eh? Eh? Eh?

10:28 am  
Blogger Stegbeetle said...

I've tried three times to make a comment that wouldn't sound offensive if we follow C.P.'s analogy about 30+ women and produce.

That which has been given time to properly ripen tends to be far more enjoyable.

How's that?

10:30 am  
Blogger ziggi said...

It's once you pass your shelf-by-date that all the fun starts :)

1:08 pm  
Blogger Joyce said...

You're 35 for crying out loud, not 88!!!!!
And more desirable than a fine bottle of wine!

2:36 pm  
Blogger homo escapeons said...

Cream is right (as usual) labels are misleading and how many times does something look soooo yummy at 'the store' and when you get home and take all of the fancy wrapping off ...WOAH!

...and besides Joyce already has the icon..look at it HA! is that how you see yourself?

I guess that everyone in the Cherrypie Fan Club will have to charter a jet and fly over there.

You are a Peach, Cherry!

3:00 pm  
Blogger homo escapeons said...

I can't seem to get this image out of my head so I am going to pay it forward...
Nature has thoughtfully provided a solution to the purely esthetic visual predicament of droopy boob syndrome.

The pendulous mammae of middle aged homo escapeons appear 'perky' when they are comfortably resting upon the paunch of their male counterpart.

3:46 pm  
Blogger delcatto said...

Girl, you need to get your glad rags on and go shopping with a couple of your friends...and don't just stop at window shopping!
On the shelf indeed...
You can't tell if a peach is ripe and juicy 'til you squeeze it.

5:27 pm  
Blogger Alice said...

Maybe you are really describing the way you assume other people see you, when really they are seeing someone completely different.

7:53 pm  
Blogger kj said...

cherrypie, where do you come up with this stuff? i am positive you can be a comedy writer on any number of major tv shows.

fyi: i owned a restaurant for a short time and the rule was to add 7 days past the expiration date. until then, it was squeeze/pour/sip/munch away.


9:38 pm  
Blogger Cherrypie said...

You've all pretty much proved my theory.

Fronty - I don't know many Brits that could name 3. I've heard of Kitchener but I thought he was just a guy on an advert.

HE - just like Joyce's avatar, only with thicker legs.

HE - I love your breast rests.

Del - I already have that very thing planned for Saturday.

KJ - you don't happen to have your own show that I could practice on do you?

10:32 pm  
Blogger Frontier Editor said...

Guy on an advert - Damned if that doesn't sum him up right and proper >B^D>)))))))))))))))))))

2:56 am  
Blogger kj said...

cp, if i had my own show i would have signed you up already.

i come to your blog and am refreshed by laughter, or irony, or both. you're a good egg, cp!

4:28 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

General Robert Wolfe. Sir Peter De la Billiere, does Marlborough count? Surprised FE never went for Cornwallis.

CP you do put yourself down for no good reason. You're good fun to be around. You do always seem to to be doing something. More time for CP methinks.

7:52 am  
Blogger Frontier Editor said...

Pete, I used Cornwallis a few weeks ago in a cautionary tale about the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Wolfe is a good one though - nothing like the Plains of Abraham for a death scene.

And there's always Field Marshall Slim.

12:56 pm  
Blogger The Tart said...

You have the most interesting mind! Love the sexless shelf Tarts part.

Alas, stop by my place for some chocolate cake ... who needs sex when you can have chocolate cake, natch!

The Tart
; *

1:11 pm  
Blogger ziggi said...

It's amazing that teenagers will refuse to eat anything they consider slightly dodgy but will drink booze until they're sick

- why they no listen when you tell them 43 alcopops and 8 pints will do more harm than scrapping the titchy witchy bit of mould off the last of the cheddar?

2:26 pm  
Blogger Carmenzta said...

Great post and great comments, especially HE's, naturally.

"blown, gone-to-seed, crows-footed, droopy-boobed still-sitting-on-the-shelf women past 30"

My God, Cherry! But whatever I look like I refuse to sit on a shelf!

6:00 pm  
Blogger Cherry Rolfe said...

You're gagging for it aren't you! And why not!

9:47 pm  

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