Andrew Macdonald [see Hark The Herald Angels Sing!]
15 February 2003 14:29
I can see why the Cornish language died out now, although I'm still not entirely convinced that it wasn't invented in about 1889 by a lot of people who liked dressing up in long white nighties, sandals and fluffy cotton wool beards. Still, at least we have managed to get a positive ID on "Winwaloe", so next time you see a bloke in the Slope wearing a red pinny and carrying a curtain rod and a loaf of bread, you'll know who it is.
I've been held incommunicado this week following the unfortunate incident of the burnt soup last Sunday, but I seem to have been reprieved now I've mastered the perfect poached egg. And talking of soup, please explain to "Wibblewobble" that my name is Macdonald, not MacDonald, and if he doesn't get it right, I'll be round with the Wusthof.
But he's right about one thing at least, to paraphrase Hillaire Belloc's lines after the battle of Omdurman,
"and whatever happens,
thank the lord, that we have got
Adnams Bitter, and they have not."
I'd gladly send you some Adnams; it's nothing to do with the hydraulic cutting equipment and controlled explosions needed to get the wallet open, it's just that it doesn't like leaving Suffolk and develops a foul taste as soon as it discovers its post code doesn't begin with IP. (It's not just live beer, it's sentient beer as well) Plus, you don't do too bad yourselves, what with the Doom Bar, Sharp's Special, Skinners, Wreckers, Old Knobshrinker, etc, etc. Talking of beer, Mrs Alewife's Harvest Ale is not dissimilar to Doom Bar, I've decided. I'll bring some down next time we make it that far.
Must go. I've got to go and oil the owl before the war starts.
PS: See - I was right about the Tat car park?
PPS: If nothing is true, then what is truth?
15 February 2003 17:16
In the immortal words of the (Non-fermented) Beatles .....
Nothing is real and there's nothing to get hung about (unless you're Derek Bentley)
PS. SSI, in case you haven't noticed, doesn't tell anyone what to do. But you'll need to go to Exmoor to vent the wrath of your wusthofs on proto-saint Winwaloe. Personally I hope that you don't as I am fascinated to see whether the halo fits!
PPS. Did you know that the closest the spellchecker comes up with for 'wusthofs' is 'warthogs'. Sums them up perfectly.
17 February 2003 09:46
Hot diggety damn, missed the deadline.
Just seen St W's latest Did he turn up in darkest Cornwall having turned left at Exmoor and then walked across the Tamar?
Anyway, purely by chance I'm working in Southwold today about 200 yards from the Harbour Inn, so I might just pop in for a pint while I'm there. Be a shame not to, really, wouldn't it?
OK, I'll put the Warthogs away. The best the spellchecker can do for Winwaloe is Pinwale.
17 February 2003 11:51
I have not had any further communiqués from our trainee saint. Although if he is supposed to be spending 40 days and 40 nights in the wilderness then I suppose we shouldn't expect any. We'll just have to keep an eye out for signs and portents.
What the hell is a Pinwale?
Give the beer my regards.
17 February 2003 17:44
OK, we'll keep an eye open. I'm assuming that the Blyth river flowing with blood and dragons breathing fire over Ipswich obviously don't count.
I guess a pinwale is a bit like a very long thin swordfish with a very sharp point at one end and a sort of round blob at the other. Not to be confused with a needlewale, or indeed a narwhale.
The beer says hello. Repeatedly.
17 February 2003 19:24
Well, as they say ..... all's well that ends ale!
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