I was up in your neck of the woods last week – frankly, I expected you to put a
bit of a spread on, but there we are. This was a brief break designed to convince the missus that we should move to Northumberland and that, contrary to what she believes, you really can buy
tampons north of Daventry. The reasons for wanting to move north are a) the people are nicer, b) I’m from up there anyway and miss it, c) the countryside is nicer, d) the property is cheaper,
and e) there are next to no mewing media scumbags. It’s also safer, as I patiently explained to my wife as we passed the spot where Gazza kindly brought some chicken sandwiches and lager for
Raoul Moate.
But what the hell do you do for food? I mean, do you ever eat out? We don’t eat out much but when we do we enjoy food cooked by someone from the present, or even the last, century. Is there anywhere that does that in Northumberland? We stayed in a village with four pubs and saved the poshest one until the last evening, by which time we were desperate for food with green stuff in it. There was one salad on the menu – tomato and mozzarella – so I ordered that. A few minutes later the waiter reappeared and said, in a terribly kindly tone, “I’m sorry but we divvent got much mozzarella, or tomato. I can give you what we’ve got and do you a side plate of chips – would that be all reet?” Also, I had a fishy (on a little dishy) and it came with a morass of what appeared to be cheese-flavoured tile grouting.
Do you just stay in, or what?
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