Wednesday, September 06, 2006

No Pooh Sticks and Other Matters

This is what my son has produced to show that there is no longer Pooh Sticks allowed in 100 Acre Wood. I have printed it, and it's in the window of my Grand Marquis (to those of a foreign bent, this is a Mercury - an up-market product by Ford). It has a stonking V8, and as I've mentioned before, will seat 8 comfortably as long as they are friendly and not married. Hercules (his name) has started the habit of turning on the Check Engine light regularly. This requires a quick shift to the N position, switch off, and then restart the car, and back to D. Problem solved. There are no strange sounds from the engine, so one has to assume all is well. It does need another dose of oil, as there is a leak.... maybe Hercules is Welsh! Leak... leek... oh, never mind... On my way home from being a scrubber this evening, I saw that monumental Big M sign that make small boys pee themselves - McDonalds! I really did fancy the chicken McNuggets. I've liked them since I first tasted them in Slough in 1984. For those who are too young to remember, Slough is a town west of London, and would be unforgettable if it were not for two things. First, Sir John Betjeman, a fine Poet Laureate, wrote a wonderful poem in 1937 about Slough: "Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, Death!" Secondly, if one ventures on the notorious M4 from London westward, one cannot fail to be subjected to an awful smell. The Sewage Works in Slough hasn't for years. Back to the plot. McDonalds. I drove up to the place where you must place your order. A loud voice emits, making you wish that there was a restroom nearby, and fond memories of Slough waft about. Me, "I'd like half a dozen Chicken McNuggets please, and a medium sized plain fries." (I had hear that McDonalds will allow the customer to choose whether they have a gallon of salt on their fries or not these days.) Her, "We only do McNuggets in 6, 9 or twelve, Sir." Me, "So I can't have half a dozen?" Her, "No Sir, only 6, 9 or 12." Me, "I'll take six then". What worried me more than the educational standards over these here parts was that the lovely chicken cost $1.91, but the fries, which were made from a large spud cost $2. Imagine a poor chicken somewhere scratching a living, and he becomes half a dozen - sorry six McNuggets. And a spud sprouts a medium sized portion of fries. Here endeth today's lesson.