The everyday blog of Richard Bartle.
RSS feeds: v0.91; v1.0 (RDF); v2.0; Atom.
Previous entry. Next entry.
9:04am on Wednesday, 23rd June, 2010:
At the weekend, I bought some bread. Well, when I say "bread" it was Warburton's, which my father-in-law likes but the rest of us regard as being bread in the same way that bread is flour: there's a bit more processing involved.
Anyway, because otherwise we end up throwing away half a loaf, at the weekend I took a couple of slices out to use for some disgusting purpose involving gravy upon which I shan't elaborate. When my father-in-law came on Monday, he also took some slices out.
Yesterday, I was at Brunel being an external examiner. This meant I couldn't get to the shop and buy bread that looks like bread, tastes like bread and can't survive a nuclear holocaust like bread. I therefore had to make my sandwiches using Warburton's, which, being Warburton's, was just as fresh on Tuesday as it had been when I bought it on Satirday. I'm sure the expiry dates they print on them are for next year, not the current year.
It turned out that when my father-in-law took his bread out on Monday, he didn't noticed that I'd already opened the packet at the other end. This meant that when I took it out of the bread bin yesterday, all the slices fell out of the other end and onto the floor. I had to choose the ones touching it the least to use in my sandwiches, otherwise I'd just be eating ham.
When I was a kid, all bread was like Warburton's. Families were divided into different camps along bread lines: they were either Sunblest families or Mother's Pride families. We were a Mother's Pride family. It wasn't until I got into my late teens that I tasted bread you could eat on a sunny day without needing sunglasses to stave off the brightness. Brown bread was white bread with brown colouring added to it.
Still, my father-in-law was born in 1922 and is still going strong, so there must be some benefit to eating stuff like Warburton's every day.
Referenced by Shammy Properties.
About this blog.
Copyright © 2010 Richard Bartle (firstname.lastname@example.org).