This Ay Nicht

Opening the fridge door, the scent of Tunworth Soft Cheese rolls out in waves; close it and the room hums like the inside of a vast hardworking sock. The last time I dealt with food this powerful was kimchi in the South Korean embassy. That stuff deserved its own cordon, though it was dainty in comparison to the Tunworth. Elevation helps; the niff is too heavy to lift itself above the stairs. We're safe for now.

I can't believe the storms out there. My brother's garden wall has blown clean over. The wind is roaring and at one point, I swear it felt like the hill shook; the rain is struggling to stay vertical. Horrendous night for anyone, let alone some homeless spod on the streets. Food banks/soup kitchens and homelessness were always part of English life, but never before have I heard them lauded as appropriate for one of the top ten world economies. Never before have I heard their necessity spun as a good thing.

Years ago I was a kid reading a paperback called Come Hither,Nurse* about a nurse's experiences, sort of Carry On Doctor without jokes or plot. At one point in the book an Indian nurse suggests that instead of giving food leftovers to pigs, the hospital should give it to beggars. Our heroine tells her that in England we have no beggars. The Indian nurse is astonished.

The book was written in 1958.

* Or possibly its sequel, Come Again, Nurse.

Lights glinting over London

Happy Christmas everybody X