Brave new supermarket

It's Wednesday and time for my guest Blogger to take over again. Enjoy it!

I’ve borrowed two-thirds of the title for this week from, as you will know doubt recognise, the famous Aldous Huxley novel. This is not because I’m going to try and emulate his literary prowess but because the words encapsulate what I’m going to write about today. You will need to have a good and creative imagination but I hope you will be able to embrace the idea that follows.

However, before getting “stuck in”, as we say, I couldn’t resist a couple of bits of trivia connections. You may remember the blog on 27.9.12 (The Lion Saltworks and Anderton Boat Lift) which mentioned the discovery of polythene at one of the Brunner Mond Company sites in Northwich (Cheshire). Well, in the 1920s, Aldous Huxley actually worked for a time at another Brunner Mond chemical plant in Billingham (Teeside, North-East England) and it is believed that the name of his character Mustapha Mond (in Brave New World) owes something to his experience there. (Mustapha comes from Mustapha Kemal Atatürk, 1881-1938, the first president of Turkey.) In a previous blog, 20.6.12 (The end of freedom) I mentioned Plato’s The Republic in which he wrote about the way society would function better if people were categorised into different classes. The difficulty for us is that he wanted people to remain within that class for the duration of their lives. Huxley takes up this theme but goes even further with the idea. The State will control the birth process of human beings who would fulfil each of the functions required; further control was to be imposed by limiting how far each person could develop intellectually & physically in order to prevent people moving from that particular class. Now we’re seriously into eugenics.

Ok so back to today’s subject. You remember the blog 17.10.12 (The reality (?) of mobile phones)in which I mentioned my frustrations on a supermarket visit. I was thinking of how, when the shop gets crowded, people are bumping into each other’s trolleys and can’t get to shelves because people are blocking their way. I also did think about a way round this and this is where my new scheme, my original idea, comes in. Before you dismiss it just think about it and I hope you will see the advantages.

The first thing to say is that what you are about to read is revolutionary, in more ways than one. (You will see why soon enough.) Instead of going into the shop you will remain outside at all times. (The outside area will of course be covered so in bad weather you are protected from the elements.)

You begin by backing your car into a marked bay which is at right angles to the shop. Once in the bay a barrier comes down in front of your car which does not lift until you have paid the bill. The marked bay is close to a revolving belt, similar to the idea in an airport at the baggage reclaim but in this case it is horizontal not angled. The customer chooses the items they want from a computer touch screen next to their parking bay and revolving belt. This belt moves clockwise in a rectangular loop into one end of the shop and out of the other. Inside there is a belt down the centre of each aisle which goes back underneath to the start point of the aisle. It’s a vertical loop instead of the horizontal one which takes the stuff outside. There is sufficient space either side of the belt for staff to walk up and down to the items required by the customers outside. It is slightly higher than the main belt and at right angles to it. It deposits items picked onto the rectangular loop which then carries the item outside to the waiting customers who simply pick them up and scan them before putting them in their bags or directly into their car boot. Each item has the bay number which ordered it on a sticky label or tag. The customer then scans it to confirm the order or replaces it if not right item. Once you have all your items you simply press “Finish & Pay”. (Remember the barrier won’t lift on the parking bay until you have paid.) Here is a rough drawing of how the system would look. Please excuse the quality (art is not one of my gifts – and I did say rough):





Line drawing of scheme at supermarket

Of course depending on the size of the supermarket they may be able to fit 20, 30 or more cars along the front. I used 15 just for illustration purposes. I’ve also considered the option of allowing people to send their orders through on the internet with an ETA so that most of their stuff, if not all, can be got ready to go on the belt when they are parked in a bay confirming their arrival.

Now just think about that. No more wandering up and down aisles; no more getting blocked by insensitive shoppers on mobile phones or chit-chatting with their friends in the middle of the aisles; no more queuing at the check outs; no more trolley pushing (so shop won’t need them any more!). How good is that?

I feel a visit to the patent office coming on, followed by Tesco, Morrisons, Sainsburys, Asda (Walmart).

Kiwis, curries and rats with style

It's that time again. Time to see what Chat has to offer this week. Once again, I am blown away by their fabulous witticisms, sprinkled throughout. For example, I open the magazine and the first thing which greets me is a photo of a pig in a picnic basket, with the caption 'designer ham bag?'





Brilliant. There doesn't seem to be any reason why the massive photo of the pig is there, just a little sentence about how the pig looks so comfy, "there's no way we could 'rasher' to go anywhere."

And on we go, to the photos page and there are a few good ones this week. The first is a here-are-some-cupcakes-I-made photo. The second is a here's-me-with-a-huge-plastic-ape picture. And no, I'm not kidding. Someone really thought that the world would be interested in a picture of her with a huge plastic ape. Check it out.





There are some others of dogs cows, which aren't even worth mentioning in any greater detail.

So onward we go, past a story about a girl who had a maggot living in her back and a story of scandal with a 9.9 shock factor (!), to the Blimey, That's Clever page.

And what have we here today? I think my favourite might be the kiwi fruit tip. Put it in an egg cup, we're told. And that's it. That's the tip. Eat a kiwi out of an egg cup. £25 they got for that.  





Maybe I'll make up some top tips and try to get £25 from Chat. Watch this space. I'll think some up for tomorrow.

Another of the top tips is to use toothpaste to clean your mugs if they have tea stains. While I can't see anything initially wrong with this, it just sounds a bit dodgy, cleaning a mug with toothpaste. You're bound to have toothpaste-tasting tea for the next few days, I reckon.

Another tip seems to be, my granddaughter chewed the straw bit off her favourite beaker, so I put a new straw in. I don't know whether that really warrants a place on the Blimey, That's Clever page, do you? It's not as though, previously, people have been throwing away their children's beakers every day with no clue how to fix it and then they open Chat, see this tip and go 'Wow! I'll just stick a new straw down the hole where the old straw was. That's genius.'

Next we have some more scandal, a murder, some letters, some weight loss stories and then the baby photos page. Ahhhh, the baby photos page. Photos of babies. Doing nothing at all. Just being babies. A whole page. One is a baby on a slide, one is a baby swimming, another is a baby and a cat, one is two children smiling a bit. A whole page.

To the side of this page, we have the recipe section. Now previously, I have seen some amazing gourmet recipes that opened my eyes to a whole new world. The week they had a recipe for mushrooms on toast was a week that changed my life. This week's recipe? Onion and potato curry.

Mmmm. Doesn't that sound great? Onion and potatoes. In a curry. Like when you look in the fridge and you don't have anything in so you bung together some nonsense and fill up on ice cream afterward. Mmm. Nothing-in-the-fridge curry. The ingredients? Olive oil, 4 potatoes, 2 onions, spices and mustard seeds. And the attraction in making this meal? It's only 54p per head.

Now it doesn't take a genius to work out that it's not 54p because Chat are so great at providing good meals on a budget. It's because there's NOTHING IN IT.

If you want great meals on a budget, I can give you far better, go-to ingredients - squid is really cheap, people. Fry it with fennel. Re-use old bread by chopping tomatoes, adding red wine vinegar and basil and ripping your old bread up and mixing it in for a panzanella salad. If you want a curry, spend your money on some chicken and chuck it in a pan with tomatoes (tinned or fresh) and add whatever combination of spices you find in the cupboard, depending on what country's cuisine you are chanelling.

See? All those will probably be about £1 per person but don't resemble student food or invoke severe depression in the person who is eating it.

Anyway, back to Chat, the finale is the 'Ratwalk models' story on page 46. Yes, RATwalk models. You know what's coming. It's a story about a lady who designs and makes clothes for rats. Yes. Rats. It started with making 'couture creations' for her pet chihuahua, inspired by a dress worn by Penelope Cruz to the Oscars.

A few years later, business was booming, she went full time into her pet clothing designing and her friend asked her to help "raise the profile of her annual rat convention."

Honestly, this is not a joke. It's all true. Her friend runs a yearly rat convention.

So she designed and made the dresses. There was a fashion show with 12 of the 'models'. Post-show, fame and fortune came her way, she got calls from everyone, even David Letterman.





The article finishes with the touching line, "After all, every single pet should feel like a star."

That's something we should all remember as we go on with our days today.

I hope you have learned something here.

The pesto incident

At work, we do a sandwich which has pesto on it, instead of mayonnaise. Well, actually, it's pesto mixed with mayonnaise. We only use it on one sandwich, a chicken and avocado combo which is quite popular. If, for whatever reason, we don't do any of the chicken avocado sandwiches, the pesto mayo doesn't get used.

I think that is what must have happened the day before The Pesto Incident. The pesto mayo had, I think, developed a little skin on it's surface inside the bottle.

I was starting work at 11am that day. I wandered in, all casual from my long lie in and the lovely weather. I was wearing a white summery dress, embracing the sunshine. As soon as I entered, though, I could feel there was a bit of a rush on. The person in the kitchen was evidently having a rubbish time of it and they asked me to take over.

I grabbed an apron and got stuck in. The first sandwich was something fairly straight forward, a pastrami and mustard, or something like that. Next up, the chicken avocado number. Great, I love making this sandwich.

Chicken in pan to warm. Grab bread. On chopping board. Put pesto mayo on bread... I squeezed the bottle but no blob of pesto mayo came out. What was wrong? (Remember that little skin it has got from not being used the day before?) I shook it slightly and squeezed again. It felt like there was something hard pushing back against me. I'd show that pesto mayo. Squeeeeeeeeze! Nothing. What is WRONG with it? Both hands this time. Squeeeeee....

PESTO EXPLOSION!

I looked up in shock, still holding the pesto bomb in my hands.

It. Was. Everywhere. It had hit both walls either side of the kitchen and found it's way, miraculously, into the toaster. The bread on the chopping board was barely visible underneath the pesto mountain which covered it. It had gone on the underside of the shelves which held the crockery and even over to the sink (a fair distance away) and on the wall and taps and drying rack over there.

Then I looked down. It was covering the top half of my apron, my lovely white summer dress and my hair. I had gone for a girly down-do that day, a long plait which had been hanging forward over my shoulder at the time of the explosion. It was now covered in pesto mayo. From the elbows up, my dress was covered with large splats.

Ever the pragmatist, I ignored it all and finished up the sandwich. As I put it on a plate and turned around to take it out, my manager walked into the kitchen and looked at me in shock. Then laughed. Then told me to go home and change.

My hair still smelled like pesto all day.

What happened when I tried to fix the coffee machine

Yesterday, in work, a customer mentioned that the coffee tasted a bit different recently and that they had preferred it how it used to taste. I had a little think on the problem and thought it might be to do with the grind of the coffee. So I reset the grinder, made an espresso and tasted it, reset it again, made an espresso, tasted it. It went on like so until it reached a point I was happy with. To understand what happened to me during this time, let's get inside my head, which sounded something like this.

"This coffee does taste different. Ok. I'll change the grind just a little bit. O, there's a coffee order. I hope they like it. Right, it's a latte. Done. Let me run myself a coffee. Ummmm. I think it still needs tweaking. O, a customer. Hi! HI! HELLO! What can I get for you? God, I'm really shouting. Reign it in a bit, Laura. They've ordered a coffee. I'll change the grind a little bit again and make myself one at the same time. Sip, sip, it's still not great. Ok, more customers, loads of them. The coffee's kicking in. HI! CAN I HELP ANYONE? A SANDWICH? YEP, WHICH ONE? OK. AND WHICH BREAD? ALRIGHT, TAKE A SEAT AND I'LL BRING IT TO YOU! Try to bring it down a few decibels, Laura. Take the order to the kitchen. I'VE GOT A SANDWICH ORDER FOR IN! HE'S ON TABLE 2! Woah, no need to shout. But I can't help it. I'm still worried about the coffee. Let me try to finish fixing it. Everything's happening quite quickly now. Another espresso, run it and drink it. O, a customer. HIHOWCANIHELPYOUYESOFCOURSEYOUCANHAVEACAPPUCCINOREGULARORLARGEANYSUGARS? Why are people looking at me funny? God, I'm so efficient right now. I am super coffee machine fixer. Has there ever been anyone as speedy and amazing as me? HERE'SYOURCOFFEELARGECAPPUCCINOWITHONESUGARTHANKSHAVEAGREATDAY! Gosh, my eyes feel really wide and staring. Another customer. HIWHATCANIGETFORYOU?ABREAKFASTYESWHATBREADWOULDYOULIKEFORYOURTOAST?ANDACOFFEEYESANAMERICANOOKI'LLBRINGITOVERTOYOU! Wow, time's moving fast. O goodness, and now it's sloooowingggg riiiiight down. My limbs are all really sluggish. I was supposed to leave work at 4pm and I'm still dawdling around in the kitchen at 4.15pm doing not much. Knackered.


Damn that coffee machine....."

Danda and the birthday card

Yesterday was Danda's friend's birthday. I know this friend pretty well too so proposed dinner made by Yours Truly then set off into town to get a little card and a little something else from Danda and I.

I didn't forward plan anything or scout around online to get ideas. I just figured something would catch my eye. I went into a card shop first and I looked.

I looked at all the pretty pinky red cards with owls and hummingbirds and cakes on them. I saw cards which looked like they had been stitched together. I saw cards with golden looped writing and sincere messages of birthday wishes and many happy returns. I saw fun cards with bubble writing and ages written on them. I saw cards with old photos and funny quotes on them.

And none of them were right. None of them quite suited a slightly older gentleman with an interest in World War II and programmes about true crime, who enjoys his own company and has a silly little dog that was kind of forced on him but who he's actually quite fond of.

I saw billions of cards for women. Quite a lot for children. And a fair amount for people who think quotes on old black and white photos are funny. But not that many for men like my friend.

Eventually I tracked down two which I thought might fit the bill. One was a humorous card about the internet, prompted by my friend's total impatience with anything computery.

The other was a green coloured one which looked like an old poster from the war and it had something about football on it, about how shouting loudly at your TV set helps them win. I didn't know which to get and in my indecision, I got both.
I thankfully had a much easier time with the present and just got him a DVD set of stuff about the war.

I was still fretting about the cards and called Danda for his opinion. He said the football one would be best. I said I'd show him it before writing it.

When I saw Danda later, he was watching a programme called Minder, a classic from years ago, apparently.

"Danda," I said. "Look at the card. It is just on the table there. I had such a hard time choosing it. I was in the shop for a long time and it is very important to me that you tell me if the card is ok."

"Yep, I'll look in a minute. I'm just watching Minder. It's my favourite."

"But Danda, we should write the card soon, before our friend arrives."

"Yeh.... What you said...."

"Danda, something tells me you're not really listening."

"Mmmm."

I got the card off the table and showed it to him. He looked at it briefly.

Silence.

"Do you think it's ok, Danda?" I asked.

"Pardon?"

"Do you think the card's ok? Is there anything about the card you'd like to say? I had such trouble finding a suitable one."

Danda looks. He looks and he tilts his head slightly and he squints his eyes a little and finally he opens his mouth to give me his verdict.

"It's a bit green."

An Italian feast - the carb light version

On Wednesday it was Halloween. Last year on Halloween, I got some sweets in and waited for the kids to come trick-or-treating.

They didn't come.

I ate the sweets.

Apparently the thing you're supposed to do is put something Halloweeny in the window or somewhere visible, to show you're in on the fun. So this year, I got a few little pumpkins, put them in the window and planned to bake some goodies, flapjacks or something.

Well, then I got cooking for dinner as I had a friend coming over and didn't get time to bake goodies for the kids, so good job no-one knocked! (I think I might be feeling a bit offended though. Why didn't they want my sweeties?)

So I was back in the kitchen with my favourite cookbook, Polpo, by Russell Norman. My friend and I are both ex-Dukaners so try to not to go too mad on carbs. I definitely don't avoid them, you can't really, when eating like an Italian, but I just try not to have loads of them.

The antipasti was the carb-heavy part but I kept it out of the mains. Here's the antipasti plate.





Top centre are my signature grissini sticks, wrapped in prosciutto and pickled chicory. To the left are music paper crackers. To the right is one of my favourite things in life ever, truffle butter, and just behind that, black truffle oil. In the white dish to the left is homemade basil pesto, in which I used pecorino and black truffle oil. Right at the front, the little pink squares are ham hock terrine and to the left are cherry tomatoes with a little shred of mozzarella and some torn basil on the top, then sprinkled with truffle salt. In the middle are little crostinis with ricotta, mint and broad bean on half of them and goat's cheese, roasted walnut and grape drizzled with white truffle oil and thyme on the other.

For the mains, they unfortunately don't photograph well so I will just have to tell you about them. I made a parmigiana with aubergines and courgettes, in which I used fresh basil and oregano where I usually use dried as the flavour is more concentrated. After having used just fresh this time, I think I will go back to using dried as the lovely oregano smells you usually get with a parmigiana definitely weren't as strong. I also made a duck, black olive and tomato ragu which was far tastier than I expected. You spend about two and a half hours just slowly cooking the tomato sauce so the flavours are really strong and lovely. I also steamed some kale, spinach and fresh basil together as a side dish.

The dessert was vanilla panna cotta with blackberry coulis on top.





I also made something called a chocolate salami for having with the espressos I decided were a good idea at 9.30pm.





It is chocolate with egg yolks whipped into it, with crushed up sponge fingers, chopped dried fruit and loads of nuts. You just fridge set it until it is hard enough to cut in slices and have as little biscuits.

We then proceeded to have a super long chat about my visit to Mr Red Wine's house. I must just add that I washed quite thoroughly, thirteen times, in between visiting Mr Red Wine and preparing this food!

Into the dragon's lair

The other day, I mentioned that I was going on a trip to the local drunk's flat because a friend had asked me to help him put a framed picture on the wall (my friend owns a gallery and does framing etc). Well, this is the story of that day.

You know how, when you have someone coming over to do something, like you know the gas man is coming to read the meter, you clear a space for him. Say it's tucked in the far corner of the basement or somewhere awkward, you move some stuff out of the way so it's easier to get to. Well, Mr Red Wine had evidently cocked a snook at that type of thinking and done absolutely nothing to make our visit easier. In fact, it looked like he'd thrown everything he owned onto the floor and bed and sofa, just before we arrived.

Confusingly, the front door didn't open properly. It got a little way open and stopped. I now realise it was because he had the sofa right behind it. It was quite wierd because he had a space either side of the sofa that he could have moved it into, so the door would open properly. But he'd pulled it directly into the line of the door.





As we carried the frame into the flat, I had to open the kitchen door and go a little way into the kitchen, to allow us to manoeuvre the frame inside.

It was awful. Awful. Months old dishes were stacked in the sink and everything was slightly tinged with dried-on reddish grease and dust.

As we passed the sofa to get the picture inside, I noticed the one shiny grease-covered spot where he obviously sat, the rest of it was covered in mess. In front of the sofa was a long coffee table, every inch covered in mess and cigarette stubs.

We had to hang the picture on the wall behind the bed and, as he'd moved none of his mess to allow us to get near the wall, we realised we'd have to stand on his bed. We asked Mr Red Wine if he had something we could put on the bed to stand on, to save us standing all over his pillows etc. He got us his dressing gown and kind of threw it on the bed. To be honest, the dressing gown looked it had been used as a doormat so not the best thing to put on a bed but we didn't question it. We just said thanks and got on.

It was so hot in his flat and I had foolishly worn a scarf which I then couldn't even consider taking off because there was nowhere clean to put it down.

So onto the bed we go, which was a bit dirty and, wierdly, had a huge pink fish-shaped fairground cuddly toy on it. We were trying to hang the picture but it won't catch on the hooks so my friend asked me to take the whole weight of it, so I dropped onto my knees and held the frame up.

At this point in my visit, I thought, where did it all go wrong? I was brought up well, I went to a good school, I've got degrees, I have a nice job and wonderful friends. How did this happen? How did I end up on my knees on the local drunk's bed in his flat? Something has gone terribly wrong here.

It was at this point I also thanked myself for changing out of my open Crocs into a pair of closed laced shoes.

Once we had managed to hook it into place, we scarpered quickly, reeling from the experience, and sighed with relief as we went back to our normal greaseless, bedbugless lives.

And that is the story of my visit to Mr Red Wine's house.