My uncle just gave me candy called wine gum here on my visit to Bridgwater, England.
“Is it like gummy bears,” I ask, because I hate gummy bears.
“Sort of,” he replied.
Since the chocolate in England is way better than any you get in America, I threw my disdain for chewy little creatures aside and took a bite.
Ooh, not like a gummy bear at all! Sweeter, less chewy. I tried the red. Then I tried the orange. Awesome. And then yellow before I threw the bag aside.
What’s happening to me?! I don’t really eat candy at home! Here I had a meal consisting of chocolate and chips.
Chips–they call them crisps, which I guess makes more sense. They are so innovative with crisps that we look like dullards. I think they just take two odd foods that don’t belong together—and have no business being involved in any sort of crisp ingredient listing—and put them together. Beef and pickle, anyone? The odd thing is they’re so weird that they’re goooood.
I just ran into a corner store to see what I’d find. Right there on the bottom of the shelf was Flame Broiled Steak. Let the festivities begin!
I won’t mention how I bought cookies, called chocolate biscuits, to go with tea earlier because they were called Funky Monkey.
Tea. That’s another story. I’m totally confused about tea here. First, we drink it non-stop. This is not an exaggeration. It is almost always tea time.
But then, there’s TEA, which is somehow different from drinking tea because it involves eating a meal. Dinner and supper are two different things and they are not at our dinner time. For Tea, the meal, one night we had bangers and mash, which is funny just to say. The next, it was fish and chips, which my mom thought I’d “ruined” by bringing a salad.
I opted to save the extra salad so asked where I could get a container. Then three sisters (in how my sister’s boyfriend calls me and my two sisters the Ya-Ya sisterhood) barked contradictory orders at me:
“Put a paper towel underneath it the salad.”
“Put a paper towel on the top of the bowl.”
“Put a paper towel on the top of the bowl and cover it with a saucer.”
I followed the last one since it was the most recent one to barrage my ears. And it was from my mother so I’m used to her telling me how to do things.
“Happy?” I ask.
“Yeah. Too bad you used a plate. That’s not a saucer.”
Oh yeah, isn’t a saucer used for tea?