Piri Piri chicken does not and should never have broccoli with it. Rice? Yes. Fries? Yes. Salad? Hmmm just about get away with that! But any other form of veggies is an absolute disgrace. When you live in a van converted to a camper, one gets used to eating weird and wonderful “what’s left in the fridge” concoctions.
But this was just plain weird. It didn’t work. It made my taste sensors think I’d gone blind. They immediately thought I’d spilt chilli sauce on my Sunday roast chicken. Not that I’ve had a roast dinner for a while...Yesterday I did stuffed mushrooms in my Ridgemonkey pan. Excellent pan that. But doesn’t do stuffed mushrooms very well. But I did manage to smash out a Hunters Chicken that Gino D’Campo would’ve been proud of! Possibly. Getting back to vegetables, I’ve hurt my back and I’m currently walking around like I have several large items from the vegetable aisle stuck up my arse. It’s very uncomfortable, makes me yelp like a stabbed frog every time the nerve gets squeezed and people keep looking at me weirdly. I’m just like “Sorry, it’s the marrow, see” and point to my bum, making the staring public stare at me even more weirdly. I’m not fussed to be honest. Chances are I’ll never see them again, but I can imagine the conversations had when they arrive home “ere love! Should’ve seen this weirdo walking around with a marrow stuck up his rusty sheriffs badge”
Today I opted for a safer option for my dinner/tea/snap/whatever and hobbled bent in half, yelping, into the chippy. “One piece of chicken please mate and chips.” “No please don’t give me the drumstick. I dunno why anyone would want to pay to eat one of those. Gimme summat with a bit of meat on please. Yeah that bit. Pukka! Cheers!”He asked if I wanted it wrapped up to which I accepted but declined the plastic carrier bag. Big mistake there. He wrapped it up with the precision and speed of a battleship flight deck signalman, arms flailing around, and suddenly there was this neat package in front of me. I paid and picked up my parcel of food. But not like a normal person, no. Of course not. I picked the parcel up by the end and as I turned to depart the flight deck of the chippy, my entire dinner slid out ever so graciously and hit the floor with the sound of swans taking off from a lake as the chicken hit the flight deck and exploded, as if shot down by a passing enemy Mig fighter. Chips went everywhere. Under the taped up tables, across the floor and one even made its escape through the door to the big wide world. Its new life of freedom was extremely short lived as a crow immediately swooped down and murdered the chip to death, without a single squawk it disappeared again. “Fucking hell mate” I calmly said. “At least that bird got some dinner”.
My face was glum. So very glum. I should have said yes to that bag. My dinner was splattered across the chippies flight deck, chicken splattered everywhere. But the guy just said “no problem my friend. Here is some more. And no drumstick again! Thank you please” I offered several times to clear up the mess that resembled the pavement outside a night club, but he declined profusely and ushered me out the door! I sat in the van after oooh aaahing my way back to it and tucked in like I’d never had chicken and chips before!
Now I must poo so I shall leave you with this tasty morsel:
The way to happiness: Keep your heart free from hate, your mind from worry. Live simply, expect little, give much. Scatter sunshine, forget self, think of others.
Big love my Calamity Fam!