Let's Go To Dinner

Welcome to a warm and sunny South Manchester on day 448 of Covid-19 restrictions. The weather has improved dramatically and we can now look forward to at least three weeks of lovely warm sunny weather to raise our spirits and help us to make the most out of this dreadful pandemic. Added to that, the European Championships start next Friday and I can look forward to a couple of weeks of international football (that’s soccer for any American readers). 

I have been making the most of the easing of restrictions by seeing friends and tonight Mrs PM and I are visiting a lovely local Italian restaurant for a cosy meal for two. 

That will be nice. 

Shall we dive into some silly questions from Sunday Stealing? 

1. When is the last time you went out to a meal with someone special? Tell us about it.

Well – as I said above, I anticipate that the meal tonight with Mrs PM will be special. However, we met a couple of friends two weeks ago and after a quick drink in a bar in the city centre, we all went to a lovely restaurant where we chatted about life, the universe and everything. It was special because it was the first time we had been to a restaurant since late summer of 2020 and the first time we had seen those guys for well over a year – perhaps closer to two years. 

2. Show us a picture of your favourite cuisine.

I can’t choose so here are four of my favourites (in no particular order).

Chinese 

Indian

Italian

Mexican

3. What is the funniest thing a man/woman has said to you lately?

I share a lot of banter with the guys at work and, during one meeting, one member of my team said to me:

“Dave, I’ll bet you love wearing a mask to bars now. You probably stand more chance with women because the mask covers most of your face.”

4. What makes a gentleman a gentleman in today’s dating world? Are there any left?

What do you mean “are there any gentlemen left”? Of course there are – and I am one of them. I don’t have to date because I am in a loving relationship but if I did I know that I would be the perfect gentleman. I AM the perfect gentleman. 

How very dare you!

5. Is there anything you won’t tolerate when out to dinner with your significant other?

I am with Joey from Friends on this.

There are exceptions; for example I am happy to share Chinese food and, sometime, Indian food – but nothing else. I would prefer than Mrs PM orders a plate of chips for herself and only eat a couple than steal mine.

She knows this – even though she frequently tries to humiliate me about it. I don’t care – I am who I am.

6. What type of ambiance do you enjoy in an eating establishment?

I like a fairly busy place with a little light music in the background, with friendly attentive staff. Of course, the food has to be good too. There are a lot of very good restaurants like this in Manchester.

7. Tell us about the worst public dining experience you ever had, whether it be a date or with your family.

Here’s a good one – not the worst but quite funny.

I was in a restaurant in Zurich with a work colleague and we were about to eat pizza. The food was very nice but the two guys on the next table were very drunk and very loud. Their banter and conversation were harmless and they didn’t butt in and talk to us but their voices were so loud that we could barely talk to each other. They were speaking German so I didn’t fully understand what they were saying (I speak only very limited German). However, one of them stood up just as my pizza arrived. The waiter put my pizza on the table and, next to it, a large glass of German beer. The drunk guy stumbled into our table and knocked the entire glass of beer over my freshly baked pizza and partly over my lap.

To be fair to him, he was mortified. 

He started apologizing profusely in German and I had to say “Ich spreche nur ein bisschen deutsch.” (I only speak a little German). He switched to English and said “I’m so sorry!” 

He then ran after the waiter and called him back and spoke rapidly in German. He basically told the waiter to take my food back. 

“I have ordered it again for you, my friend,” he said. “I will pay for your meal!”

“There’s no need,” I said. 

But he insisted. 

Meanwhile, my work colleague was struggling not to laugh out loud. 

Sure enough, a fresh pizza and another beer arrived and then the guy kept talking to me, apologising over and over again. 

Eventually he got the message and stopped talking and sure enough, he paid for my pizza, despite my protestations. 

So, I guess it ended okay.

8. What is the lamest or rudest thing a man/woman has said to you lately?

Nothing recent – but I got into a discussion over Brexit with some friends a couple of years ago and a bloke decided to intervene in our conversation to tell me that I hated the United Kingdom because I disagree with Brexit. Thankfully, the guys I was with all rounded on him and told him, in the sweetest possible way (not really), to go back to his wife, to enjoy his meal and not to be such an arsehole and butt into other people’s conversations.  

9. Are you a good tipper?

Tipping is not mandatory or expected in the United Kingdom, but I do tip if I have enjoyed the meal and the waiter has been half decent. Generally if you tip in the UK the tips are all shared out at the end of the night.

Of course, I have been to America where tipping is expected and, to be honest, I always feel a little odd when I am over there. I once saw a waitress take the bill payment and the person left without leaving her a tip. She returned to the table and basically lost the plot and threw every single one of her toys out of the pram. 

“What did I do wrong?” she complained to anyone within earshot. “I don’t do this for fun you know!” before storming off.

She was our waitress too. I did leave her a tip of course because, despite the outburst, she was sweet and friendly to us – and I did enjoy the food. But I still felt a bit odd. 

10. Do you ask for doggie bags when you leave food on your plate at a restaurant?

Only in America. The amount of food that you are served there is incredible. 

On one occasion I was working in Atlanta but had the weekend off. I popped into a local restaurant and ordered what I thought was a small burger, fries and a coke. When it arrived I was stunned. The burger was enormous and the amount of fries that came with it was enough for about three people. And then came the coke – a huge bucket of the stuff. 

I didn’t know what to do. I tried my best to eat as much of the food as I could but it totally and utterly defeated me. Thankfully, I was staying in an aparthotel so I asked for a doggie bag and took it with me. The coke also came with me when I left and it lasted most of the rest of the afternoon. 

I had the remains of the burger and fries back at the hotel later – thank goodness my room had a kitchen.

11. What is your pet peeve about restaurants and dining out in general?

I don’t like really expensive restaurants that charge the earth for food but only provide you with enough to whet your appetite. That really boils my blood and I avoid such establishments like the plague.

12. Do you prefer to order yourself or do you ever let your significant other order for you?

I absolutely prefer to order for myself. Why on earth would I let anybody else order for me? I will listen to recommendations of course but ultimately it is my choice.

The only exception to this is in China. Whenever I have worked in China, I have usually dined with the Chinese guys I am working with and allowed them to order the food, having told them what I will and won’t eat. Things I won’t eat include insects (and anything related to insects such as larvae), spiders, scorpions, dogs, offal or anything that comes from inside the animal’s head. That said, I have never had a bad meal in China – the food over there is absolutely brilliant – much better than most Chinese food in the UK – and whenever I go there it is the one thing I look forward to the most.

13. Describe your most intimate romantic dinner ever. (fantasy or real)

Café Deco on the Peak in Hong Kong without a doubt. It was a beautiful restaurant with amazing views of Victoria Harbour. Sadly, I have just discovered that it has closed which is an absolute shame. When I worked in Hong Kong for three months in 1999, Mrs PM and I used to go there often for a lovely romantic meal while enjoying the amazing views.

The food was international and always wonderful. 

Cafe Deco

I will miss the place when I next manage to get there.

14. Do you enjoy piano bars?

Not really – mainly because I don’t like the music. I have stayed in quite a few hotels in the world when travelling with work, and when I sit in the hotel bar and there is a guy playing the piano, it generally annoys me because the music is not really the kind I like, particularly if the singer tries to emulate people like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin or any of those old-time singers. 

Give me a bar playing rock music any day.

15. If you could go anywhere in the world for dinner, where would it be and who would you be with?

I would go to Hong Kong with Mrs PM and have a chinese meal somewhere in Wan Chai. I would have chosen Café Deco if it was still there.

Weight

 

Welcome to a rather grey and miserable South Manchester in the North West of England. We are still in lockdown here in England but will be released on Wednesday into a Tier system that still sees us effectively in lockdown. The only difference is that shops and gyms will be open and I will be able to go the barber for a haircut. However, we cannot go the pub or a restaurant so effectively we have really been in lockdown in my part of the country for 261 days now. 

And I am bloody sick of it, if the truth be known.

We can “socialise” for Christmas though, which means that between 23rd and 27th December inclusive we can form a “Christmas bubble” (or perhaps better a “Christmas Bauble”) with three other households. 

All this means that my two sons can come to visit on Christmas Day – so that will be good.

The problem is that I haven’t seen my friends for so long now that I have almost forgotten what they look like in the flesh.

All I can say is that now there are three vaccines about to be unleashed I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sadly it will probably be another couple of months before we see the signs. I am so desperate to get out of the UK and travel somewhere that you wouldn’t believe it. 

Anyway – enough of COVID-19; I want to think of good things. 

I noticed that in America it was Thanksgiving last week so I couldn’t really answer the questions on that topic in Sunday Stealing because we don’t have it in the UK. But this week is different. So let’s answer some silly questions from this week’s Sunday Stealing selection. 

1. My biggest barrier to weight loss is...

My biggest barrier to weight loss is my love of food and drink. First of all, I should say that I am not a fat person, just slightly overweight. When I was younger I could literally eat a horse and not put on weight but ever since my mid-forties I have had to be more careful and now as I approach 60 years old, it is more of a struggle. I weigh thirteen and a half stones (about 190 lbs if you are American) and at a height of 5 feet 11 inches that gives me a BMI of 26.4. That puts me about 10 lbs overweight.  

2. What is your relationship with food like?

Excellent. I eat and enjoy most foods but I try not to over-indulge. I generally eat fairly healthily, avoiding burgers, pies, chips (fries), cake and other things that are supposedly bad for you. 

3. What was the last time you had fun that made you smile for a few days

I don’t think that has happened in 2020 due to this bloody virus. It was probably Christmas 2019. Actually, the arrival of Ziggy and Star has been a fun experience. As I type, they are racing around the house chasing each other.

4. What are triggers in your life that lead to eating?

When I’m hungry. Why else? 

Actually, I can see that there is a problem with things like “comfort eating” and, to be honest, this lockdown has been so desperately dull at times that there has been a temptation to just buy snacks and scoff them all day. 

In the early days of lockdown in April this year, we bought cakes, treats and biscuits (something we don’t normally do apart from at Christmas) and ate them to help cheer ourselves up. My weight increased and so in May or June we decided to stop doing it again and my weight has stabilised. Christmas is coming though so I imagine we will succumb to the festive spirit (as I usually do to be fair).

5. What inspires you to be healthier

I used to be really fit but in my mid-forties again I slowed down and actually stopped exercising until perhaps I was 47, at which time I decided to resume again but walking. 

Over the past ten or so years I try to walk every day and reach a monthly rate of a least 7000 steps a day. Last year I calculated that I had walked 1500 miles which sounds a lot but is actually quite easy (that was an average of 7500 steps a day). 

Walking at my age is a perfect way to stay active and I would love to increase that rate next year. It is a great activity that helps me clear my mind, gives me a good workout (depending on how fast I walk) as well as reducing stress. 

The healthier I am, the happier I am and that is inspiration enough.

6. Name two foods that you think are “bad”

I like to think that you can have anything in moderations, even food that is supposedly bad for you. It is perfectly fine to have deep fried food once in a while as long as it isn’t every day. 

The only food that I would say is bad is rhubarb and apricots. This is not because they are unhealthy. It is because they taste absolutely dreadful and make me wretch just thinking about eating them.

7. Are your expectations for yourself too high?

Not at all. I know what I want and what I like and what my limitations are. I occasionally step outside of my comfort zone (I should do so more often to be honest) but I certainly do not push myself to limits that I don’t expect to be able to achieve. 

8. Would you like more fun in your life?

At the moment, yes, because in this pandemic I am hardly having any fun at all. 

9. What is your one comfort food?

Cheese. I love cheese. I especially love cheese on toast. I try to limit my intake but if I am peckish, I will pop to the fridge and slice off a chunk of cheese.

10. How would you give someone encouragement?

I would talk to them and gently tell them that they can do whatever it is they need encouragement to do.

11. Do you get enough sleep?

I have been watching a few TED talks recently and I was particularly fascinated when the subject was sleep. 

My usual amount of sleep is seven and a half hours a night (almost timed like clockwork) but there are times in the past when I have either gone to bed to late or just had a poor night’s sleep and woken up feeling groggy, irritated and grumpy. The TED talks basically told me about how important sleep is because it gives your body the chance to cleanse, heal and clear itself down after a hard day. Consequently I have tried to go to bed earlier. The good news is that I have now started waking up before my alarm clock having had a great night’s sleep – still about seven and a half hours but sometimes longer. And I feel better for it. 

12. What activities make you feel more relaxed

As I said above, walking helps me to relax as does reading and listening to ambient music like this:

13. Where do you need to practice forgiveness in your life?

I don’t think I do need to practice forgiveness to be honest. I will forgive if necessary but I don’t tend to bear grudges.

14. What is one thing you have not done because of how you looked?

I’ve not entered a beauty pageant because I don’t look like a beautiful woman.

15. What would you like more of in your life?

I would like more freedom from coronavirus restrictions. More generally I would like more freedom anyway but only in terms of not being tied down to a career in the rat race. When I retire, I hope that freedom will materialise.

Another Food Meme

There are things I want to rant about – I’m sure you can guess what they are. However, I am trying to be more positive this year and as such I will not be ranting. Instead I will answer a few questions from Sunday Stealing about a subject close to my heart – food.

Let’s dive in shall we?

1. How do you like your eggs?

I am quite happy to eat my eggs any way – apart from raw of course. It depends what kind of mood I am in and what I am having with them. With a full English breakfast, I usually go for fried eggs. I also like them poached or scrambled too but If I am feeling adventurous I will go for an omelette with ham, cheese, mushrooms or any combination of the three.

2. How do you take your coffee/tea:

I drink black coffee with no sugar and strong tea with just a dash of milk. 

3. Favourite breakfast foods:

On Monday to Friday (work days) I usually only have a banana with a cup of tea. However at the weekend I will go for something a little more elaborate like a good old English breakfast, with sausage, bacon, egg, beans and toast.

4. Peanut butter: smooth or crunchy?

I don’t usually eat peanut butter – it is just odd to me. When I have had it, though, I usually choose smooth.

5. What kind of dressing on your salad?

I love French dressing on my salad but most of them are fine if that’s unavailable.

6. Coke or Pepsi?

Am I allowed to say neither? I am not a fan of coke at all.

7. You feel like cooking. What do you make?

I rarely feel like cooking but I take my turn to keep Mrs PM sweet. On those rare occasions when I really feel like it, I will go for something like a stir fry.

8. You’re feeling lazy. What do you make?

When it comes to cooking I always feel lazy. The easiest thing for me to cook is some kind of pasta dish.

9. You’re feeling really lazy. What kind of pizza do you order?

This is a little bit of déjà vu (as I answered this last week). A cheesy meat feast would hit the spot.

10. Is there a food you refuse to eat?

Oh yes. I loathe rhubarb – it makes me physically ill when I taste it. Also, I have travelled quite a lot and in China I have been exposed to some really vile foods which I refused to eat such as: any kind of insect or pig’s brain. I’m also not keen on Thai food.

11. Favourite fruit & vegetable:

I would say that my favourite fruit is a nice crisp Granny Smith apple. I like most vegetables and I think I probably eat carrots the most.

12. Favourite junk food:

Fish and chips.

13. Favourite between meal snack:

Déjà vu again. I usually got for a piece of cheese or flame raisins. Occasionally I will have cheese and onion crisps or sour cream and onion Pringles.

14. Do you have any weird food habits:

Yes – I smear food into my hair just before eating it.

Of course, I don’t do that. I’m not sure what you mean by weird food habits. I guess some people might say that eating Marmite is weird so I shall say that.

15. You’re on a diet. What food(s) do you fill up on?

I would probably eat fruit.

16. How spicy do you order Indian/Thai?

As I said above, I don’t like Thai food. However, I love Indian food and I usually have a medium curry like a Rogan Josh or a Balti.

17. The perfect nightcap?

I don’t normally drink nightcaps but I guess if I were offered one it would probably be a small glass of red wine.

CHEERS!

The Food Meme

I’ve hurt my bloody foot thanks to going on two massive walks last weekend in my old walking boots and have spent the week hobbling around like an old man. So frustrating. It’s a form of tendonitis, I am told, and the cure is just to rest it and use a bit of ice occasionally. It is working and yesterday I went for a short walk with no obvious side-effects. But it has meant that I have been unable to escape the office at lunchtime and have been at the mercy of inconsiderate people interrupting my lunch at my desk with work questions.

How dare they when they can see I am eating and reading the news.

Hopefully I will be able to go out tomorrow and return to normal.

In the meantime, here are some food questions from Sunday Stealing. 

01. CHEESE or CHOCOLATE? 

Cheese – any day of the week. I love chocolate too but I would much rather have a chunk of cheese.

02. BLUEBERRIES or STRAWBERRIES?

I’m not a fan of either but if I had to choose, it would be strawberries.

03. COFFEE or TEA? 

Definitely tea. That said, I do like a cup of coffee occasionally.

04. CORN MUFFIN or ENGLISH MUFFIN?

Well I am English, so it has to be an English muffin.

05. PANCAKES or FRENCH TOAST?

I am not a fan of pancakes – I don’t see what the fuss is about. French toast it is then.

06. YOGURT or CREAM CHEESE? 

I like both but cream cheese has the edge.

07. RICE or PASTA?

Again, I like both but I love Italian food, so it has to be pasta.

08. CAKE or PIE?

It depends what type of pie. I will go for pie I think.

09. GROUND BEEF or GROUND TURKEY?

I imagine this means beef mince or turkey mince. We use both but I think I prefer beef.

10. HOT DOGS or HAMBURGERS?

Definitely hamburgers.

11. JELLY or MARMALADE?

Jelly is one of those words that has been abused by Americans. For British people, jelly is a dessert. What Americans call “jelly”, we call jam. After all that, I prefer marmalade.

12. AMERICAN CHEESE or SWISS CHEESE?

I have worked a lot in Switzerland and America and I have to say that Swiss cheese is so much better.

13. DIET SODA or NO SODA?

These days I rarely drink “soda” (or pop as we call it in the UK). I will have to say no pop.

14. LEMONADE or ICED TEA?

Iced tea is an abomination. I tried it once in America and it tastes like weak stewed tea. Bloody disgusting. Lemonade is far more quaffable.

15. CHERRIES or GRAPES?

I like both but I prefer grapes.

16. CHOCOLATE QUIK or STRAWBERRY QUIK?

Neither. Both are utterly disgusting.

17. WAFFLES or PANCAKES?

So this is the second time pancakes have turned up. Definitely waffles but I am not keen on those either.

18. WHITE BREAD or WHOLE-GRAIN/WHEAT BREAD?

Whole grain bread but if I am making toast then white bread.

19. PEAS or CARROTS?

I love both and I almost always have them together.

20. PUDDING or FRUIT-FLAVORED GELATIN?

Neither. They both look and sound (and probably taste) disgusting.

21. COLD CEREAL or HOT CEREAL?

I don’t eat cereal these days but if I had to choose it would be cold cereal.

22. KETCHUP or MUSTARD?

Ketchup any day of the week. The only mustard I can tolerate is French mustard. I hate to say it but English mustard is an abomination.

23. MUSTARD or MAYONNAISE? 

Mustard again? Based on my answer to the previous question, I think you know the answer: mayonnaise.

24. MAYONNAISE or KETCHUP?

Oh I see where we are going here. The winner of the three way final is ketchup.

25. BLACK OLIVES or GREEN OLIVES? 

Green olives. The green olives you get in Spain and Greece are the best on the entire planet.

26. ONION or GARLIC?

I like both.

27. PLAIN BARBECUE or BARBECUE WITH SAUCE?

I think I prefer plain barbecue.

28. SCRAMBLED EGGS or FRIED EGGS?

I love eggs. Either will do.

29. EGGS or EGG REPLACEMENTS?

What the hell are egg replacements? What a weird concept. I imagine that they are a man-made abomination for weird people who claim not to like eggs but like “eggy” things. EGGS! Bloody egg replacements! What is wrong with the world if such a thing exists? (Or should that be “eggsists”?)

30. MEAT or VEGETABLES?

I am a full blown carnivore. I think that answers your question.

31. CHINESE TAKE-OUT or PIZZA?

Chinese take-out. Pizza is good too but I much prefer Chinese food.

32. SUSHI or DELI SANDWICH?

I would say a deli sandwich but I like sushi too.

33. WHITE CLAM CHOWDER or RED CLAM CHOWDER?

Both sound absolutely horrific. I guess they are an American abomination.

34. KEY LIME PIE or LEMON MERANGUE PIE?

Neither. I am not a dessert person.

35. PIE & ICE CREAM or CAKE & ICE CREAM?

Neither. I am not a dessert person.

36. WHIPPED CREAM or CAKE FROSTING?

Neither. I am not a dessert person.

37. HONEY or MAPLE SYRUP?

Honey is disgusting. It is far to sweet and has a horrible after taste. Maple syrup is only slightly better. The truth is neither but if forced, I would reluctantly choose maple syrup.

Japanese Delights

One of the many great things about travelling is the variety of food available to try. I like to consider myself as an adventurous person when it comes to trying the delicacies of foreign countries. There are some things that I will not try under any circumstances, things such as insects or snails (mainly because insects and snails make my skin crawl – even when they are alive), but just about anything else is fair game.

I thought I had seen it all on my travels, particularly in China where they eat just about anything. However, Japanese food proved to be just as challenging, and I found myself in a position where I had to pluck up a hidden wedge of courage from a cache that I didn’t know existed within me.

My first encounter with authentic Japanese cuisine came on my very first day in Tokyo. Mrs PM and I visited a small bar/snack bar in the early evening. We sat at the bar, along with everyone else, and watched the bar staff serving beer and cooking food in an open kitchen. The initial idea was to grab a beer and introduce ourselves, slowly to Japanese social culture and watch the people. Mrs PM is far more adventurous than I am and suggested that we try one of the snacks on offer. She signalled the barman who presented us with a small menu written in Japanese with English translations next to it.

Here is what we were given:

I stared at the menu in disbelief. In case you can’t read it, here’s what was on offer:

Trachea, spleen, large intestine, rectum, uterus, small intestine, spinal column, organ (whatever that was – my mind truly boggled), throat, testicles, choice uterus, brain, birth canal.

It looked to me like something out of a hospital or medical laboratory.

The barman offered us “his choice of three items” in broken English.

“NO!!!” we both wailed and opted for a couple of safe items (two lots of bacon and shoulder meat).

A few days later we had immersed ourselves in an authentic Japanese hotel in a place called Hakone, near Mount Fuji, where we enjoyed traditional Japanese experiences such as bathing in an onsen and walking around in kimonos.

We also had to eat in the hotel (it was half board) and we were subjected to a traditional set breakfast and evening meal.

This meant that we basically had to eat everything on offer, no matter how bizarre. Here were some of the choice things we were given for evening meal:

Steamed abalone, conger eel sushi, jellyfish, eel stew, seaweed, bamboo shoot, raw bream.

I had eaten eel stew before in China and I hated it. The Japanese variety was actually quite nice. The thought of eating jellyfish filled me with dread, particularly because these creatures make me shudder with revulsion. Nevertheless, I remembered a time in China when I accidentally ate jellyfish.

“How can you accidentally eat jellyfish?” I hear you cry.

The truth is, I had popped it into my mouth and was busy chewing it when one of my Chinese colleagues asked me what I thought of the fish I was eating.

“It’s a bit rubbery and tasteless,” I replied.

When he told me what it was, it was too late so I simply carried on eating it. Mrs PM wasn’t keen to try it in Japan but when I ate some, she gave it a go.

If I’m honest, had somebody told me it was jellyfish before I had it in my mouth I would have refused with a look of utter disgust.

For breakfast, we were offered things that we wouldn’t normally have considered eating as our first meal of the day. Here are some of the things we were presented with:

Sesame tofu with noodles, fried horse mackerel, miso soup with crab, sashimi squid, sea urchin.

As odd as those things are, nothing had prepared me for sea urchin. I dipped deeply into my reserves of courage and found something that enabled me to try it. I was pleasantly surprised; it wasn’t as bad as I had initially thought – quite tasteless really.

Having eaten in an authentic Japanese hotel restaurant, both Mrs PM and I were no longer worried about what to eat and what not to eat. We ate Japanese food for most of the remainder of our stay, in particular enjoying sushi.

In Kyoto, in a specialist sushi bar, we ordered mixed sushi for lunch. As we were eating, we noticed two older Japanese men next to us, both of whom were quite drunk. What followed was a brilliant exchange with me and Mrs PM speaking to them in English and them replying in Japanese. We had no clue what was being said – and neither did they.

However, the most talkative guy started pointing at the menu as if to say “try this” We politely refused because we had had enough, but before we knew it, he had ordered yet more sushi for us. We guessed it was his favourite fish – and very nice it was too.

Before we knew it, he had bought us a beer each. The one English word he knew was “American” so we spent the rest of our twenty minutes together trying to convince him that we were English. Finally, we bought them a beer back and they took this as a signal that we wanted to carry on drinking with them. They paid and signalled to us, with a variety of hand signals, that we should join them in a bar crawl of Kyoto.

We had to politely refuse because we had a bullet train to catch. I resorted to showing him a photograph of a train to push my point home.

As they wobbled out of the sushi bar, I remarked to Mrs PM that it was a good job he hadn’t bought us something less appetising than sushi. Japanese people are extremely polite and I would have struggled to eat it just to accept his hospitality.

Before I go again, I guess I need to learn the Japanese for:

 “I’m sorry I don’t like birth canal, uterus, brain, testicles and organ (whatever the hell that is)”

How To Boil An Egg

“He’s a useless cook – he can’t even boil an egg!”

I find such condescending statements bring out a unique reaction in me; a perfect storm of outrage, annoyance and frustration. Such statements lead me to race for my soapbox and rant.

I am not the world’s best cook by any stretch of the imagination (in fact I absolutely hate cooking – I hate it almost as much as I hate both ironing and gardening – or ironing in the garden – I hope you get the picture). But if somebody were to tell me that I couldn't boil an egg, I would find the nearest chair, request that person to sit down, grab my soapbox and rant at them.

Rather than ranting to you, dear reader, I just want to offer my thoughts about a culinary chore that the experts suggest is the easiest of all culinary chores.

I can hear you asking:

“What on earth has caused this idiot to start waffling on about boiled eggs? Has he lost his marbles?”

Let me explain.

I have just returned from a holiday in Santorini with Mrs PM and her folks. Each day in the hotel we were served a boiled egg as part of our breakfast. We had no control over how this defenceless egg was cooked; it just turned up in a little egg cup. One thing was consistent – the egg was as hard as concrete.

This sparked a debate whereupon I was told, in no uncertain terms, that my own views on boiled eggs were weird.

Can you imagine my reaction? Three people all looked me in the eye and told me that I cannot cook a boiled egg, that my idea of the perfect boiled egg was flawed and even that I don't know how to eat a boiled egg.

Rant? You have no idea!

Here’s what I told them.

First of all, everybody is different. Every person who likes boiled eggs has a unique preference when it comes to the temperature, hardness and texture of their egg. My own theory is that when a person is presented with an egg boiled by another person they politely smile, rub their tummy and say “Hmmmm! Lovely!”

The truth is that they think: “This person can’t even boil a bloody egg. This egg is a disaster.”

The overcooked boiled eggs in the hotel may not have been to everyone’s taste but I will bet you any money that one or two people will have genuinely liked them.

My second point is a corollary of my first point: there is no correct way to boil an egg. When I boiled my first egg, it was a total disaster. I hit it with a spoon and the raw uncooked white exploded out of the egg. I realised that leaving it in boiling water for thirty seconds wasn’t nearly enough.

My next attempt wasn’t much better. Leaving an egg in the pan for four hours, constantly replenishing the hot water is also not advisable.

The correct technique for the best egg is one of trial and error. You boil it, try it, and next day adjust the time until the yolk is flawless, in your opinion.

My third point, and possibly the most contentious one with Mrs PM and her folks (who all agreed) is how to serve the egg when it has been boiled.

Let me tell you how Mrs PM serves a boiled egg. She cooks it and then pours away the hot water. She then grabs a spoon and scoops the egg out of the pan, popping it into the egg cup and handing over to her victim, in this case me, to eat. Sadly, she fails to realise that the egg has just spent a fair amount of time in boiling water and when, a minute later, I grab the egg from the egg cup, it is like grabbing a piece of molten lava forged in the hottest part of the Hell. The first time I did this, I was so shocked that I shrieked in pain and threw the egg in the air. It hit the ceiling and crashed down on the table, spraying yolk all over the place.

My own technique is to add cold water to the boiling water, gradually cooling it down but not sharp enough to crack the egg. I am left with a boiled egg, in cold water, which I allow to cool to a point where I do not need industrial gloves to handle the thing.

When I mentioned this to Mrs PM and her folks, they looked at me as if I had just beamed in from the Starship Enterprise.

“Are you all mad? “ I raved. “What are you trying to do? Burn my hand off?”

Mrs PM’s dad then leapt to her defence with an unforgettable statement that made me laugh out loud.

“You’re not eating it properly.”

The other hotel guests were now openly chuckling.

Being told I can’t boil an egg properly is one thing, but then being told that once boiled, I don’t know how to eat it properly is the lowest insult of all.

“Do you think I am that thick?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s just been boiled,” he said staring at me in disbelief. “You should KNOW that it’s hot. Here, let me show you what you should do.”

I swear this is true. He held his egg by the egg cup and expertly lopped the top of it off with his knife. He explained it to me as if he were teaching a child of three.

I was speechless.

“What if I want to take all of the shell off?” I asked.

“Why would you want to do that?” he asked in all seriousness. “You won’t be able to dip your soldiers into the yolk. You’re doing it wrong. No wonder you burn your hand.”

Yes that's right: a grown man of over seventy years told me that I was eating my egg incorrectly.

“Is there a law about that?” I asked. “The ten commandments of boiling a bloody egg? How about: 

Thou shalt not pour cold water on your boiled egg. 

Thou shalt attempt to eat the egg when its temperature reaches 3000 degrees. 

Thou shalt not take off all the shell with the egg intact. 

Thou shalt slice your toast up into ten equally shaped soldiers. 

Thou shalt lop the top off your egg.

Thou shalt not have any naked boiled egg before one with its bloody top lopped off. 

Thou shalt dip your soldiers into the yolk. 

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s egg. 

Thou shalt not dip your soldier in your neighbour’s egg. 

Thou shalt only eat the remainder of thine egg when all of the soldiers have been doused in egg yolk.”

“Now you’re being silly,” he said.

Perhaps I was but at least I made a few people chuckle, including Mrs PM and her folks.

Do you agree, dear reader? 

Are my views about boiled eggs weird?

Don’t get me started on fried eggs.

Life's Sick Joke

Life is great.

Life is a gift that we should all take full advantage of, something we should grasp with both hands and squeeze as much fun and enjoyment out of before fate decides to whisk it away from us.

However, we all know that there are constraints that stop us from acquiring all of the pleasure and delight that life offers.

I hear a little voice from time to time warning me of the consequences of overindulgence, usually in tabloid newspapers, on the news or in the rhetoric of self-obsessed megalomaniacs who seem to think that life should be lived their way instead of mine.

And of course, there is nature itself that seems to delight in playing one almighty sick joke on the whole of humanity.

It is this latter constraint that I wish to bring to you attention, dear reader (even though you know all about it and will no doubt agree with me).

Mother Nature is a wonderful thing but rules us with a rod of iron, applying all manner of rules that are punishable by curtailing the gift of life.

Here are some examples:

Fatty food is divine. There is nothing more satisfying that waking up in the morning and devouring a full English breakfast of bacon, sausage, egg, black pudding, beans, toast covered in butter, all washed down with a massive cup of strong tea or a potent brain boosting cup of extra strong and delicious coffee.

Yet if I were to have that breakfast every single day of my life, I would grow fat and the dark figure with the scythe would almost certainly call for me a lot earlier than his original plan to. Fat is bad for you, caffeine is bad for you and endless bacon and sausage is bad for you.

The same can be said of burgers and fries washed down with fizzy soft drink. Eating such food on a regular basis will turn you into a huge monster and Mr Death will come calling sooner rather than later. Sugar and fat are simply killers in disguise.

And what about chocolate and cream and monstrous desserts? People love them yet if they overindulge the same thing will happen; they will look like a walking whale with the scythe-carrier marching behind and looking at his watch with a knowing grin on his face.

Smoking and alcohol are the same. There is nothing better than a pint of ale after a tough week but if you choose to take it to excess, you will pickle your vital organs.

You can’t even spend your life sitting in front of your tellybox. Watching too much television, so experts say, dulls the brain and at the same time stops you from exercising to keep your body in shape.

And while exercising helps, keeping Mr Death at bay, you can even fall foul of that if you overdo it.

Thrill seekers who like to hurl themselves off cliffs have the Grim Reaper as a constant companion, waiting for a burst of adrenaline so great that the scariest adventure might result in premature demise.

It’s a sick joke, dear reader.

We should be able to live our life as we want to without Mother Nature stepping in and applying certain rules to it.

“Yes, Mr Mancunian, you can stuff your face with steak every night for the next ten years and wash it down with the finest red wine from France – but it will cost you twenty years of this most precious gift.”

“Yes Mr Mancunian, you can bungee jump off a high bridge in New Zealand but one day that bungee rope might just snap.”

“Of course you can drive a fast car around a track, Dave, but I can’t promise that you will not crash into a wall at high speed.”

But it’s worse than that. Some of these constraints are built into my brain. For example, I want to see as much of the world as I can and this includes the desire to climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building and other huge man-made structures, as well as Nature’s own constructs, to see the view and marvel at our beautiful planet.

But in my case, Mother Nature has said:

“Sorry Dave, I’m going to stop you from seeing the whole of Dubai from the top of the Burj Khalifa; you need a fear of heights to limit what you can see of the world.”

It’s not fair.

I’m greedy.

I want it all.

So while life is great, it could be so much better, if Mother Nature cut us some slack and allowed me to indulge in the way I want to.

Sadly, she won’t allow it – and  I, like you, dear reader, am powerless to resist.

I am certain that Mr Reaper is waiting in the wings (at least 200 years in the future with any luck) so now my challenge is to keep him at arm’s length while keeping old Mother Nature happy.

I can do this by indulging my desires – but limiting them.

I can enjoy an English Breakfast every so often, spend the occasional evening watching my tellybox all night, enjoy a pint or three down the pub occasionally and even get some half decent exercise with a daily two mile walk and the occasional six mile hike at the weekend.

Sadly, I think my fear of heights is here to stay so I no longer plan to climb any mountains or man-made structure higher than my own house.

Mother Nature’s henchman might be stalking us all but we should plan to make his life difficult.

Whisking us away may be his raison d’etre but like Mother Nature can play a sick joke on him by keeping him as far away as possible.

The truth is that if you don’t stuff your face with a huge slab of chocolate cake every day, it is certainly more enjoyable when you do allow yourself to have one occasionally.

And when you do, just address Mother Nature and her henchman:

“Screw you! This is MY divine cake and this is my divine day to stuff my face with it.”

That cake will taste so much better, I can assure you.

My A to Z Of Food

I love food. In fact, I haven’t met a person or animal that doesn’t like food. I know for a fact that some people love food more than others – and that’s also true of my cats. Jasper (aka “Fatty”) loves his food so much that he can barely haul his fat arse off the chair to wobble into the kitchen for his bowl of food.

While trawling the internet, I found another A to Z meme, this time food related, and I thought might be fun to have a go at.

As usual, please feel free to steal it.

A - Are you adventurous when it comes to trying unusual food?

Yes and no. There are certain things I will not try – such as insects or gastropods. I have eaten outside my comfort zone, particularly in China, Japan, Australia and even Europe. Most recently in Japan, Mrs PM and I were served an authentic multi-course meal and the waiter took great pleasure in telling us exactly what we were eating, including bizarre foodstuffs like sea urchin. I didn’t think people ate sea urchin. Recently in the UK and France, there was a scandal where it was discovered that everyday processed foodstuffs, such as lasagne, actually contained horsemeat instead of beef. I have to say that I actually willingly had a horse steak in Zurich and I loved it. Sometimes we Brits are a little stuffy when it comes to food; I think we should be more adventurous as a nation.

B - Breakfast – what does your typical breakfast consist of?

During the week I have Oat Flakes with raisins and a banana, all washed down with a glass of grapefruit juice. At the weekend I sometimes treat myself to bacon and egg or toast
or all three, all washed down with a nice strong cup of tea.

C - Comfort food – what do you reach for when you need cheering up?

I’m quite happy to eat a cheese sandwich and a cup of tea.

D - Describe a dessert to die for.

Black Forest Gateaux. I am not usually a dessert person, preferring cheese and biscuits to a sugary, creamy calorific mess that makes you fat just looking at it. However, I cannot resist a Black Forest Gateaux because the combination of ingredients hits a spot – and makes me feel dreadful afterwards, firstly because I have almost certainly put on several pounds, and secondly because I rarely eat desserts, I actually start to feel queasy.

E-  Eggs – sunny side up, scrambled, poached or another way – how do you like yours?

I like eggs, scrambled, fried, boiled and poached. I’m not that fussy to be honest.

F - Fruit – do you find it fiddly or fab? What’s your favourite?

I love fruit. My favourites are apples, bananas, grapefruit, nectarines, peaches, plums and oranges. I eat at least one piece of fruit a day.

G - Gourmet food – what do you make of it?

Sometimes I think it is overpriced rubbish. However, there have been occasions when I have been pleasantly surprised by the amazing taste. The problem is I still feel hungry afterwards.

H - Hangover food – what works for you? 

A full English breakfast: Bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, black pudding and lots of fruit juice.

I - Ice cream – what’s your favourite flavour?

I’m not a huge fan of ice cream but I really like the chocolate chip ice cream I had from Ben and Jerry’s last time I was in the US. Also, Italian ice cream is particularly nice.

J - Juices – just one fruit or a cocktail of flavours? And your favourite juice?

Grapefruit juice is my favourite but I sometimes mix it with orange juice (usually when we are low on one of them). Apple juice is also extremely pleasant as are most juices if I’m honest.

K - Are you a Kitchen King / Queen or a total disaster?

I hate cooking but when I do cook, I am a Kitchen King.  I have never had a disaster yet and I think I could impress a young lady with a wonderful meal, if I were ever to be young, free and single again. Mrs PM certainly likes my culinary efforts, although I’m not sure whether that is because it tastes good or because she wants me to continue cooking and is therefore buttering me up.

L - Lunch – tell us about a lovely lunch, real or ideal. Where? What? Who with?

I love a lunch with Mrs PM and/or friends in a pub or bistro that served decent light wholesome food. However, there are a few celebrities I wouldn’t mind having lunch with. One day I’ll make a list for a separate post.

M - Money is no object so what would you order in a restaurant?

I think I would go for a monstrous and very expensive steak.

N - No way! I’m not eating that! What foods turn your stomach?

Rhubarb. The very thought of putting it in my mouth makes me feel sick. It belongs in Hell (where I am absolutely certain it grows in abundance). It ought to be the 11th commandment: THOU SHALT NOT EAT RHUBARB! Rhubarb should be ILLEGAL!

O - Octopus – would you? Have you? How was it?

Yes I would – and I have on several occasions. It was wonderful. The first time I ate octopus was in a Greek restaurant in Liverpool in 1984. The last time was in a restaurant in Kyoto, Japan earlier this year.

P - Picnics – describe your perfect picnic platter.

Sandwiches, cheese, biscuits, fruit and plenty of wine and beer.

Q - Quick snack – what do you go for when you need something fast?

Sorry to be boring but I usually make a sandwich – or as we say here in Manchester – a butty. I also like olives or a piece of fruit. Mind you, if we have any in, I will also go for chocolate and/or crisps.

R - Roasted, baked, chips or mash? What’s the best way of cooking potatoes?

In this order: mashed, chips, baked, boiled.

S - Signature dish – what’s yours? Why?

Pasta. I can whip up a decent pasta dish in 15 minutes. Quick, easy and delicious.

T - Toast – how can something so simple be so complicated? How do you like yours?

Toast is toast is toast. My favourite toast has lashings of melted cheese on it. Or marmite (I realise that people either love or hate marmite; I love it – I’m sorry).

U - Underrated food you think everyone should try.

Avocado is underrated in my opinion. I love it in salads, on sandwiches with salmon and of course guacamole is simply wonderful. I know people who hate it – or at least claim to, most of whom have never tried it and simply don’t like the look of it.

V - Vegetarian dishes you love or hate.

I hate anything with celery in it. I love a decent salad.

W - Weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten.

Sea urchin.

X - X-rated – what food gets you in the mood?

Anything – if I’m in the mood I am simply in the mood. I have tried oysters but I have to say I will never ever do that again; one of the most disgusting things I have ever eaten.

Y - Yuckiest meal? What? Where? Why?

I have mentioned this before but I will again; eel stew in Hong Kong. It tasted as disgusting as it looked. Why did I have it? Because I was feeling adventurous, despite the earnings from one of my colleagues who urged me not to try it.

Z - Zero calorie options – are they an option for you? Why?

Absolutely but I need to have something that contains a little substance alongside it. I am slightly overweight but not really fat and I think that having a balanced diet is the key to staying slim. It’s fine to have a monstrously highly calorific meal but you need to cut down later. It works for me and I reckon it could work for most people.

And finally …

As I said above, please feel free to steal this meme. I would be interested in your answers.

Cat Soup

One of the benefits of travelling is the chance to try cuisine from different countries and while some of that fare is divine, some of it is a little weird.

I thought that it might be nice to relate to you, dear reader, some of the more unusual meals I have been offered or have tried.

I am not suggesting for a second that the dishes I am about to describe are not worthy of consumption; all I am saying is that many of my compatriots would never consider eating anything other than the standard Sunday lunch of meat and two veg.

The French don’t call us Rosbifs for nothing.

I am fairly adventurous when it comes to food and I am willing to try certain things. However, there is definitely a line or two that I will not cross.

Here are some of the slightly peculiar things I have been offered or have tried.

Black Pudding

I appreciate that foreign readers may well regard some of the items on the list as fairly normal so I will start with something that originates just a few miles up the road from Manchester, in a town called Bury. Black Pudding (or Blood Sausage to give a more sinister name) and is made by cooking pig or cattle blood until it is solid enough to congeal when cooled. As disgusting as it sounds, Black Pudding is actually surprisingly tasty and is an almost essential part of a traditional English Breakfast.

Haggis

I’ve eaten haggis – once! I won’t eat it again, that’s for sure, but not for the obvious reason. If you don’t already know, haggis is a traditional Scottish dish consisting of sheep’s innards minced with onions, suet, oatmeal and spices and then stuffed into a sheep’s stomach and boiled for a few hours. It doesn’t sound very appetising does it? And to be fair it isn’t. It wasn’t the taste of it that I disliked; it was dry and stodgy and a real chore to eat. I’m sure that there are loads of people in Britain who love it – it’s just not for me.

Snails

I’ve been offered snails on numerous occasions in Europe and I find the thought of eating a gastropod that carries its own house around a truly revolting prospect. I have refused. I see snails and slugs frequently and they leave a disgusting slimy trail wherever they go. I’m sure that they are edible but I fear that I might throw up if one were to manage to find its way into my mouth.

Kangaroo

“You can’t eat Skippy,” said Mrs PM with a look of horror on her face when I ordered a kangaroo steak in Coff’s Harbour, Australia.

“Why not?” I asked. “It’s on the menu.”

“That’s beside the point,” she replied.

She glared at me when the food arrived and refused when I offered her a taste. At first I thought she was joking but she was deadly serious. I didn’t know that she had a soft spot for kangaroos. Sadly, I wasn’t impressed by the taste; it reminded me of liver and I’m not a huge fan of that at all.

Crocodile

In South Africa, I was amazed to find crocodile on the menu and initially I was not keen to try it at all. I somehow found courage and crossed a line. And I was very pleased that I did. Crocodile is strange yet totally edible. Some of my work colleagues were intrigued so I gave them a taste – they agreed with me. Others simply watched in disgust.

Oysters

I tried oysters in Hong Kong. Why? Because I was under the impression that it was a sophisticated thing to do. I was in sophisticated company and I didn’t want to show myself up. So I tried an oyster and almost spat the revolting thing over my managing director. It was utterly disgusting and I was so repulsed by it that I had to go for a walk and take deep breaths before returning to the table. Never again.

Dog

In China, anything is game for food. I adore Chinese food but when I was offered “Gou” I refused to order it until they told me what it was. Thankfully my hosts translated and I was spared the humiliation of eating a pet without realising it. I could never eat a dog.

Cat Soup

Likewise a cat. Again in China I saw Cat Soup on the menu and imagined the worst. How could anybody eat a cat, let alone turn it into soup? Even the thought of it makes me wince.

Frogs Legs

Mrs PM and I visited a French restaurant in Manchester and as soon as I saw Frogs Legs on the menu I just had to try it. The thought of eating any part of a frog used to make me feel ill but Mrs PM offered to take over if I didn’t like them. And surprisingly I did like them. I hate to be predictable but I honestly think that they really do taste like chicken, even though their appearance can be a little unappealing. Since that day I have tried Frogs Legs a couple of other times, both in China.


Thousand Year Old Eggs

A Chinese restaurant in Hong Kong offered Thousand Year Old Eggs as a hors d’oeuvre. It looked repulsive – a dark green yolk in clear brown goo. When I put it in my mouth, I said to a colleague: “Mmm this tastes just like egg!”.

A second later the real taste hit me. It was like eating a solid fart. It was utterly revolting and tasted worse than it looked. I’ve never eaten one since.

Caviar

At university, a student I used to live with was trying to impress his new girlfriend by cooking her a meal. His starter was caviar. I strolled into the dining room just as they were sitting down to eat. “Is that caviar?” I asked incredulously. How could he afford such luxury on a student grant? I was clearly being an irritating spare part so in order to make me leave him in peace, he offered me some on a cracker. Caviar looks like fish shit, dear reader, and I can tell you now, if you haven’t tried it, caviar tastes like fish shit too.

Horse

I know that I’ve moaned about eating cat and dog but thankfully I don’t regard horses as pets. On a trip to Zurich, an ex-pat friend of mine suggested that I try “pferde”. My German isn’t brilliant but that is one word I knew.

“Are you suggesting that I literally eat a horse?” I said.

“Yes,” he replied. “You can get a decent horse steak in the restaurant in your hotel.”

Curiosity got the better of me and I ordered it with mild trepidation. And I loved it. I apologise in advance to any compatriots who are revolted by the fact that I have consumed horse; all I have to say to you is that you need to try it. It is wonderful.

Ostrich

I was in a Dutch restaurant in Amsterdam with a Belgian colleague and he was helping me to translate the menu (which wasn’t in English – a rare occurrence in Holland).

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t know the English,” he said. “It is Big Bird.”

“Like Sesame Street?” I asked

“No,” he replied.

I took a chance and ordered it – and it was delicious. I discovered what it was on my return to England and have since had ostrich in Switzerland.

Insect

On my recent trip to China, I was asked by my Chinese hosts what kind of food I didn’t like. “I will eat anything apart from dog, cat, gastropods or anything with more than four legs; oh and no snakes either.”

They laughed and respected my wishes. Why was I so wary? Because on previous trips I have seen and been offered all manner of insect as part of a Chinese banquet. I have watched my Chinese friends eating large insects and small insects and I am sorry to say that I felt like running away.

To be fair, though, I have eaten one creature with more than four legs; octopus. And very nice it was too.

That’s it for now, dear reader – in fact I think it’s more than enough.

I would be genuinely interested to hear about strange things you may have eaten and even whether you consider the delicacies I have mentioned to be normal fare. Also, if you are not British, what do you think of our cuisine? You can be as honest as you like (I have been told many times what people think of British cooking).

I’m off for a curry now – how traditionally British can you get?

I'm Once, Twice, Three Times A Fatso

When I’ve been scared or worried in the past, people have offered me advice:

“Grow up, you sad arse!!”

“Why don’t you just grow a set?”

“Try typing How To Get a New Spine into Google.”

“Be BIG!!”

I’ve taken one of those valuable recommendations on board in the past two weeks – “Be BIG!”

Unfortunately, I have taken it quite literally; I am now twice the man I used to be. Let me explain.

I have just returned from a two week holiday to Canada and America. Mrs PM’s father suggested the trip to us last year. Mrs PM was adamant that we should go, so we did.

We spent a week on a coach touring the Canadian Rockies and a week on a cruise ship visiting a couple of places in Alaska. It is this latter part of the holiday that I want to focus on today.

I had never been on a cruise before and nobody warned me about the dangers until the day before we embarked.

The tour guide on the coach hinted that there would be a lot of food. Of course there will be a lot of food, I thought – it’s an American cruise ship. Unfortunately I didn’t appreciate exactly how much food there would be and, worse, I didn’t realise that it would all be free – absolutely totally free (when I say “free”, I don’t mean that the holiday company gave away the grub – the price of the cruise included the food) and absolutely totally freely available.

When I arrived in Seattle and saw the size of the cruise ship, I kind of got my first inkling of the gulf between my expectations and the reality of the situation. The ship was huge; it had 16 decks, several restaurants, even more bars, a fully seated theatre, two nightclubs, several swimming pools, a gym, a tennis court, a jogging track, a library, an art gallery, several shops, a casino, a spa, a simulated golf course, at least 2500 passengers and at least 1000 crew members.

It took me the whole day to explore the ship – it was like a floating town.

The cabins were smaller than your average hotel room – but only just. The one assigned to Mrs PM and myself had a double bed, a wardrobe, a desk, a TV, a bathroom with sink, toilet and shower and a safe. The shower was, shall we say, cosy but it was perfectly adequate for a slim person like me and my good lady.

On previous trips to the States, I have applied a measure of willpower and self control to my consumption of food. The sheer volume of food that you can acquire in America is colossal. In a restaurant, you can ask for a small portion and you still end up with a meal that would feed the population of a small country.

Take last year, for example. Mrs PM and I found ourselves in a restaurant in Boston and, feeling like a little piece of home, both opted for “Fish and Chips”. The meal, when it arrived, was gargantuan. It looked as if a trawler had been dispatched to the Atlantic Ocean and a day’s entire catch had been dumped on our plate. I have never seen so many chips in a single place. They were piled so high that there was snow on the peaks and I swear I could see a couple of skiers navigating the slopes.

Back on the cruise ship, I wandered around with my little guide, identifying the bars, restaurants and other interesting places and began to notice something strange; there were one or two people who, and I’ll be kind to them here, looked like walking whales. These guys were enormous.

Upon seeing them, my mind drifted back to the cosy shower in our cabin and a vivid scene began to form in my warped imagination; the walking whale trying to crowbar his bulk into a tiny shower.

I began to have serious doubts about the ability of these walking leviathans to crowbar their bulk into the bathroom, let alone the shower. One guy in particular was enormous. I suspected that he contributed to swaying of the vessel on the open sea, such was his bulk. Had he leapt overboard, the rest of the passengers would have mistaken him for a humpback whale.

My imagination began to work overtime. I began to wonder how this man would manage to have a shower. Here’s what I came up with:

(1) He strips naked in his cabin - I apologise for the image that this may conjure up but, believe me, I have had to live with this image for days now and I see no reason why you, dear reader, shouldn’t suffer with me.

(2) He asks his wife to wrap a rope around his colossal belly – this gives a whole new meaning to the question “How long is a piece of rope?”

(3) His wife pushes him into the shower with the aid of a crowbar, leaving the two ends of the rope outside the shower – perhaps she asks the crew of the ship for help.

(4) When the man has finished washing his bulk, the woman hauls his soapy arse out of the shower using the rope – again she might ask for help with this task.

I thank my lucky stars that I am not like this whale-human hybrid. I can still picture the distressing image of this man wearing shorts and a T-shirt that was a little too small for him, allowing part of amazing gut to spill over and say “Hello” to everybody. His legs were enormous and wobbled as he walked. I have rarely seen anybody so fat that their legs actually wobble.

I saw him on several occasions over the course of the cruise, once dressed in a suit. I wondered where he managed to find a shirt to cover his enormous belly – “Tents’R’Us” perhaps?

Unfortunately, the temptation to emulate the ingestion feats of the walking whale proved almost impossible to resist. Why? Allow me to explain.

On the first day of the cruise, we arrived at the restaurant in the evening and enjoyed a very rich four course meal with all the trimmings. I was stuffed. I felt like I had eaten a horse. As we left the restaurant I asked Mrs PM’s dad whether the meal was typical.

“Yes,” he replied. “There is so much food that you won’t know what to eat first.”

He wasn’t wrong. Breakfast the next day, for me, consisted of:

A melon slice, half a grapefruit and an apple, followed by a whopping plate full of scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, hash browns, two slices of toast and a yoghurt all washed down with two glasses of grapefruit juice and two cups of coffee.

As I ate this massive breakfast, one thought ran through my head – this food is paid for and I’m bloody well going to eat as much of it as I can.

Mrs PM, on the other hand, was sensible and suggested that we eat carefully. However, when I was wondering around the ship, I spotted a pizza outlet and simply couldn’t resist a big slice.

At lunch, the buffet was enormous and I helped myself to sandwiches, meat, vegetables, chips and cake with lashings of coffee and Sprite.

In the evening we indulged ourselves once more with a massive four course meal washed down with beer and wine (thankfully the beer and wine weren’t free, otherwise I would have taken full advantage of that).

And so it went on. Every day I had a massive breakfast, followed by a snack and a massive lunch with yet another four course meal in the evening. Had I wanted, I would have been able to get up in the middle of the night and helped myself to yet more food from the night menu.

At one point, I saw the walking whale eating. He was sitting at a table on deck next to one of the swimming pools, with a massive plate full of pizza and a cheeseburger and fries at the side. And this was at four o’clock in the afternoon, just a couple of hours before the evening meal.

And there were other people eating similar copious amounts of food.

And, worse, as the cruise went on, I realised that I, too, was eating far too much.

It was six days into the voyage when my greed finally hit home.

After a couple of days, Mrs PM had mentioned that I was eating too much and that, if I had a big breakfast, perhaps I should skip lunch. She was, as usual, very aware of the side effects of stuffing your face, and had been restrained in her consumption of food. I, on the other hand, had been a idiot, convinced that I was svelte even at the tender age of 47, and that I could eat as much as I could when I was 21. I actually started to listen to her and take heed when disaster struck.

The ship was struck down with an outbreak of Norovirus.

Norovirus is a particularly nasty little bug that basically gives victims eight hours of agony with vomiting and diarrhoea. And it is highly contagious. The captain and his crew enforced a high level of sanitation when this happened, making sure that the whole ship was napalmed with every conceivable bug killer every hour of the day as well as making sure that every passenger washed their hands repeatedly, particularly at food outlets. Every restaurant had hand sanitiser fluid, an alcohol based liquid that destroyed all germs and passengers were forced to clean their hands before entering anywhere that food was present.

Unfortunately, despite the precautions, Mrs PM fell victim to the Norovirus and, after eight hours of hideous noises in our little bathroom, was confined to the cabin for a further 48 hours. Incredibly, I wasn’t confined at all and was free to roam the ship, which I did. I wasn’t alone because I had Mrs PM’s dad and his wife to keep me entertained. Alas, Mrs PM’s dad didn’t care whether I mutated into a bloated mass of flab and when I began to consume lots of food, he didn’t warn me of the consequences of my over-indulgence. Mrs PM wasn’t there to make sure that my eating habits were constrained. Consequently I welcomed the freedom, driven not by common sense but some weird concept about value for money.

So I ate. And I ate. And I ate. And I ate.

In the meantime, Mrs PM, a prisoner in the cabin, was allowed to eat only bland food during her quarantine, food which was so unappealing that she lost her appetite.

I am still puzzled by the fact that Mrs PM was quarantined and I wasn’t. During the quarantine period, a “hit squad” of cleaners came twice a day and napalmed the cabin with detergents and chemical bug killers and I was requested to wash my hands every ten seconds. By the end of the quarantine period, we had the cleanest cabin on the ship and I had the cleanest hands on the planet.

Even more incredibly, I didn’t fall victim to the virus at all. I remained in full health for the duration of the cruise and ate accordingly.

After six days, my greedy excessiveness came back and slapped me in the face because I had to wear my penguin suit for the second of two formal evenings on the ship, the first evening being on my first full day.

How did my greed slap me in the face? My trousers were too tight, telling me that I had added unwelcome inches to my waistline.

Thankfully, I was able to make the necessary adjustments but such was the shock that I took a closer look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t like what I saw. My belly, already increasing with age, had had a visible growth spurt and my boobs seemed bigger.

I am not a whale by any stretch of the imagination but my pot belly has definitely grown, nuking all my previous attempts to beat it into submission.

Damn you, cruise food, damn you!

Damn you, will power, damn you!

Damn you, bloody Norovirus, damn you!

Mrs PM has now put me on a diet. I have returned home and Jasper, my overweight fat bloater of a moggy, is now my kindred spirit. We cry into our empty plates each night.

Looking back, I should have known better.

Anyway, apart from over indulgence and Norovirus, the holiday was amazing and I shall, in due course, be posting lots of photos on The Plastic Mancunian’s Eye as well as mentioning a few other choice observations in future posts.

In the meantime, Mrs PM, now fully recovered, will be keeping me in check. She’s just gone out to do some shopping. Hopefully a crowbar and a rope aren’t on her list.

Something's Brewing

What is more satisfying that a deep, rumbling belch?

Picture the scene; you’ve just eaten a magnificent repast in a room full of good friends and you lean back in your chair fully satisfied. As you begin your post meal chat, something stirs within.

What do you do?

Do you allow the inevitable belch to explode from your face, trying to convert it onto a song or words as it escapes your lips, allowing it to introduce itself to your friends?

Or do you cover your mouth and let the burp escape in 658 little burplets?

Or do you hold it back and allow it to brew deep within for fear of offending those in your presence?

For me, it depends on who I am with and what kind of mood I am in.

In the presence of Mrs PM and the kids I allow the belch to erupt with maximum force and maximum noise, usually trying to mould the escaping entity into a heavy metal song.

“DAAAADD!!!!” scream my young lads.

“DAAAVVEEEE!!!” screams Mrs PM before searching for a blunt object to hit me with.

“And don’t ever do that in public,” I will say. “It’s disgusting!”

I am a hypocrite because, to be honest, I hate it when other people belch in front of me. There is nothing more disgusting than bellowing in somebody’s face, which is why, in the company of friends and colleagues, I drift between “The Burp Suppressor” and the “The Burplet Generator”, stifling them until I can hold them no longer and then allowing burplets to sneak out like escaping prisoners under cover of my hand.

In some countries, however, belching is positively encouraged. In China, for example, belching is viewed upon as a massive compliment to the chef. When the burp is born, it tells the chef that he has cooked a fabulous meal and that you have thoroughly enjoyed it.

In most western countries, however, it is frowned upon and I’m certain that if I were to burp in front of the Queen at dinner I would be ostracised and my name would be splashed all over the tabloids; my bad manners and rudeness would be there for all to see as my tarnished reputation dragged through the mud for allowing a little burp to gate crash my party with Her Majesty.

And what about bottom burps (more commonly known as “farts”). These little blighters have a far worse reputation than their oral counterparts. The problem is, nobody likes them and everybody denies their existence. Like the belch, the fart can be released into the wild in a couple of ways; either you let it burst out with a triumphant fanfare or you squeeze it out gently.
The first method is only recommended for people with no shame. In polite company (or even impolite company), if a noisy fart announces its presence the person responsible is at best reprimanded and at worst hurled outside.

The second method is barely recommended; if you drop a “silent but deadly” fart then you have no choice but to get out of the fallout zone as quickly as possible, so that somebody else gets the blame. And the recommended practice is to stay utterly silent and refuse to comment. Why? Because if somebody says

“Who on EARTH did that?

Everybody else says

“He who smelt it, dealt it!”

If you then say

“But it wasn’t me!!!”

Everybody else says

“He who denied it supplied it.”

Stay silent; don’t say a single word. Of course, if there is a dog present and you feel that you have to let rip, just drift over to the dog and stand there until the fart announces its presence – then you can blame the dog.

From a personal perspective, I simply have to get out of there if I feel the ominous rumbling within. I usually make an excuse and find the nearest toilet, so that I don’t embarrass myself. It works for me but only if I haven’t had beans on toast or sprouts.

One thing has always puzzled me though – why do people deny that they fart? I can understand it if the entire room is asphyxiated by a particularly nasty one, but some people go through life giving the impression that they never ever deposit one.

Mrs PM judges a relationship on whether the people concerned have passed “the fart barrier”. She was talking to one of her friends and asked the question:

“Have you passed the fart barrier yet?”

“No,” came the reply. “I can’t fart in front of him.”

Later, she said to me “It’ll never work out.”

She was right on that particular occasion but I still don’t regard it as irrefutable proof that a relationship will fail.

Needless to say, in our relationship, the fart barrier was shattered on the first date – but I’m not saying who was responsible.

Just before I go, here are a couple of rhymes about bodily gases:


Beans, beans, are good for your heart!
The more you eat, the more you fart!
The more you fart, the better you feel,
So let's have beans for every meal!

A little gush of wind
Straight from the heart;
It tickled down my backbone
And it's also called a fart.
A fart can be useful;
It gives the body ease,
It warms the bed in winter
And suffocates the fleas.

A final note for anybody who is wrinkling their nose in disgust at the questionable contents of this post:

Don’t live in denial – everybody burps and everybody farts. Get over it.