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thompson1780
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« Reply #5910 on: 11:03:42, 22-05-2008 » |
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 Tommo PS - nice one martle |
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Made by Thompson & son, at the Violin & c. the West end of St. Paul's Churchyard, LONDON
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Morticia
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« Reply #5911 on: 11:13:18, 22-05-2008 » |
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 [/quote] |
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George Garnett
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« Reply #5912 on: 11:37:47, 22-05-2008 » |
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 Anyone else seen this? Seems strangely familiar. I've always loved the French title for its extra layer of meaning... |
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oliver sudden
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« Reply #5913 on: 11:40:34, 22-05-2008 » |
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It had to happen. We now have so many threads the board is imploding into one single matted skein...  |
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thompson1780
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« Reply #5914 on: 14:37:03, 22-05-2008 » |
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Actually, I do have a bacon-butty-related-grump.
Because I was playing in Basingstoke last week, I spent most of my working hours in the Reading Office (rather than London, to ensure I was not caught up in horrendous train delays and could get to the show on time.) The good thing about the Reading office is that there is a bacon butty shop nearby.
But it is manned by incompetants. Here is the conversation I had.
"Two bacon butties, please"
"Sorry?"
"Two bacon butties, please"
"What is that?"
"A bacon sandwich. Two of them please."
"Oh, butter?"
"No thanks"
"What bread do you want?"
"White please"
(She reached for 2 slices of white). "Butter?"
"No thank you..."
(But too late! She had already splurged butter before I could get the words out.)
"I said 'No butter thanks'".
(She grumpily got two more pieces of bread and went to the bacon, sitting in a tray under a "keep-warm light")
"Sauce?"
"Just a little bit of ketchup, please"
(She proceeded to squeeze the ketchup bottle with all her might, covering the bread in red. I decided to let it go. Three rashers plonked on the bread, and then squashed down into a sandwich. She cut it diagonally - I prefer across, but wasn't given the option - and then wrapped it up, and handed it to me. A small pause.....)
"Er, I asked for two."
"Two what?"
"Another one just like that, please"
"Butter?".....
ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!
Tommo
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Made by Thompson & son, at the Violin & c. the West end of St. Paul's Churchyard, LONDON
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...trj...
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« Reply #5915 on: 14:41:12, 22-05-2008 » |
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I feel your pain, Tommo. I long ago gave up assuming that asking for an 'Americano' coffee (which is even advertised in many coffee shops as black) meant that I would get a black coffee. Even worse, when asked "Do you want milk in that?", saying "No thank you, just black please" whilst shaking my head still doesn't usually get the desired response.
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Bryn
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« Reply #5916 on: 14:54:39, 22-05-2008 » |
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So Tommo, you wanted your bacon butties without butter. Are you sure you really wanted the bacon?  |
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Ron Dough
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« Reply #5917 on: 15:00:00, 22-05-2008 » |
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Tommo, that's very Reading (pr. Reddin'). Now make my day complete; which particular shop would that be - is it the one between Jackson's Corner and the Library on the north side of King's Road, perhaps?
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perfect wagnerite
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« Reply #5918 on: 15:36:15, 22-05-2008 » |
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Heard in a tea shop in Fort William some years ago (and sadly typical of attitude obtaining in the place)
Japanese tourist: What is G-A-T-E-A-U-X?
Waitress: It's gateau and we haven't got any.
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At every one of these [classical] concerts in England you will find rows of weary people who are there, not because they really like classical music, but because they think they ought to like it. (Shaw, Don Juan in Hell)
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Ron Dough
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« Reply #5919 on: 15:49:39, 22-05-2008 » |
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As I'm sure I've mentioned before, pw, I've known Fort William since the early sixties, and it's always struck me as having a frontier town atmosphere, and increasingly a take-tourists-for-all-you-can mentality. Certainly the worst B&B I've ever encountered in Scotland was one there, and eating out from past experience can be an abysmal and expensive experience. Inverness has come on leaps and bounds in the intervening years, Fort William seems to be intent on maintaining its reputation....
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thompson1780
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« Reply #5920 on: 16:01:29, 22-05-2008 » |
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Tommo, that's very Reading (pr. Reddin'). Now make my day complete; which particular shop would that be - is it the one between Jackson's Corner and the Library on the north side of King's Road, perhaps?
Very close. I stopped eating at that one when a hot dog with cheese made me icky. In fact the bacon-awareness-challenged establishment is further down the King's Road, near the RAOB club. Tommo |
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Made by Thompson & son, at the Violin & c. the West end of St. Paul's Churchyard, LONDON
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perfect wagnerite
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« Reply #5921 on: 16:10:15, 22-05-2008 » |
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As I'm sure I've mentioned before, pw, I've known Fort William since the early sixties, and it's always struck me as having a frontier town atmosphere, and increasingly a take-tourists-for-all-you-can mentality. Certainly the worst B&B I've ever encountered in Scotland was one there, and eating out from past experience can be an abysmal and expensive experience. Inverness has come on leaps and bounds in the intervening years, Fort William seems to be intent on maintaining its reputation....
Very true. I think I've mentioned before that there's an outpost of the PW clan living in Ardnamurchan, for whom Fort William is the nearest place of any consequence. The shopkeepers, hoteliers and restauranteurs (to dignify them with a title they barely deserve) know that the only alternative is 60 miles away in Inverness or 100 miles away in Glasgow, and their attitude reflects this. |
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At every one of these [classical] concerts in England you will find rows of weary people who are there, not because they really like classical music, but because they think they ought to like it. (Shaw, Don Juan in Hell)
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Kittybriton
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« Reply #5922 on: 16:18:27, 22-05-2008 » |
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Anybody fancy spam en croute? |
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Click me -> About meor me -> my handmade storeNo, I'm not a complete idiot. I'm only a halfwit. In fact I'm actually a catfish. |
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Don Basilio
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« Reply #5923 on: 16:46:33, 22-05-2008 » |
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Grump.
Yesterday, as unfailingly happens every two years or so, I put the Italian coffee machine on the hob without any water in the lower half. I realised the omission not by the smell of burning rubber, but by the length of time for any dark coffee to ooze into the upper half.
The rubber in between the two halves had melted. Ah well, we have had it a couple of years, and the interior was darkened with thousands of espressos.
So into the Algerian Coffee Shop in London's flamboyant West End for a replacement. Round the corner was Foyle's, no longer selling books on different floors from the cash desk, where I found a translation of Woyzeck for less than a fiver.
I was able to follow the dialogue for one scene on the bus back home, which is not the ideal listening environment for ground breaking masterpieces of atonal music theatre, or indeed anything else for that matter. I am back in the Wozzeck stakes, but still where is my copy?
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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
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Mary Chambers
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« Reply #5924 on: 17:03:57, 22-05-2008 » |
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Round the corner was Foyle's, no longer selling books on different floors from the cash desk, where I found a translation of Woyzeck for less than a fiver.
Irrelevant, but I used to know William Foyle, the founder. I did a thesis on a manuscript in his library at Beeleigh Abbey in Essex, a lovely, lovely place, a couple of years before he died. He was nice old man, who would show me early Shakespeare folios and all kinds of astonishing things, and tell me what they had cost him - he'd never read any of them. I got a glass of sherry every morning, and he sent me birthday and Christmas cards until his death. His daughter Christina was not so affable, not by a long chalk..... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Foyle |
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