Seasons of mist and a good english fry-up

Today’s thought is sausages.

What? Do you mean in a lewd sexual metaphor sense Maggie? No, I mean in the two of them on a plate, surrounded by baked beans, chips, fried mushrooms, tomato and a fried slice with a cup of tea on the side sense.

It’s cold outside – for the first time in almost 150 days – and I’m craving stodge, specifically greasy spoon fried english breakfast stodge. Actually it’s been cold inside for 150 days too but hey what’s the point of a/c if not to recreate freezer-like surroundings in your building.

‘Come on in, let me get you a coat. Don’t mind the cow carcasses, we’re just storing them here for a while’.

I do try to be all summer salad and juicey and for 5 months of the year I can almost convince myself that I’m healthy. But the first drizzly, slightly overcast morning and I’m back in London eating a bacon and egg sandwich and denying my hangover three times. ‘If that bloody rooster crows once more ….’

Being a born-again vegetarian spoils the illusion a bit, but there’s always the cliched British fave, the chip buttie.

Recipe: take some chips and squish them between two pieces of buttered white bread.

Or my more sophisticated standby, passed on to me from a former boyfriend – fingers crossed nothing else was – the fish finger sandwich.

Recipe: put two fishfingers under the grill. Butter two pieces of white bread and sprinkle with cheese then also place under grill until cheese melts. Remove. Place cooked fish fingers onto cheesey bread and top with tomato ketchup. Take a fork and mash fingers*, ketchup and cheese together. [*Not real fingers as will be painful and blood will dilute flavor of tommy ketchup] Top with other slice of bread and enjoy.