Or not, it depends if you like on how pedantic you are about English. I’m not I grew up with three different languages there was your proper English as taught by some wanna be writer and then your cockney which used to be the east end of London at the poor end but has now been promoted to the rest of the south east where it meets a multitude of different languages all of them English and all of them developing their own version of Cockney and all of them immediately recognisable and understood by all the other versions of cockney.
The third, pronounced turd, version I grew up with is Irish, but since I’m off all things Irish, really I wonder how my family missed the contagion I think it can only be because they got the fuck out as soon as they legally could, I like to think I stick pretty much to cockney.
So that’s clear is it? Good.
Its not a problem the English language goes anywhere and everywhere and has absolutely no problem whatever. My problem today is different as different as half a leg of lamb is from the cretinous sheep it came off. I forgot it was leg but it is I checked and it says so on the wrapping which is now in the bin. If the pervert, nosy neighbour from hell is so minded he can lift the lid and have a look I’m sure he does that when he’s not lopping off rose buds from the bush: he likes the scent…
You will be interested to know that a half a leg of lamb contains two bones. In a civilised world it would contain three but who ever said Ireland was civilised without cackling and winking. I have three dogs, three bones would have been useful. Ollie couldn’t eat a bone but he could glower and growl at anyone approaching his prize including me. My poor Ollie is aging his eyesight is not what it was nor are his ears and as for his teeth? I’m sure he gave them a decent burial.
Getting to the point I bought half a leg of lamb and put it in the freezer for whenever I could be bothered. Yesterday I bothered I took it out of the freezer, defrosted and cooked it. Hmm, that’s when I discovered both my cats are very fond of lamb.
Not lamb in a tin you understand neither of them are keen on lamb in a tin which is probably why I didn’t give them a thought when I bought the half leg of lamb. I wish I had I wish I had bought a whole leg of lamb. I’m getting old, I have enough problems trying to escape from this hell without having to stop and worry about cats and lamb and dogs and lamb.
Well of course I baked potatoes and assorted other vegetables and I ate them, well I ate half the other half I have put to one side so I can fry up a good old fashioned and as far as I know still English Bubble. I don’t eat much meat be it lamb or any other beast there’s never enough for me.
I’m down to the last fraction of lamb and none of the cats and dogs are talking to each other. Jezzie is in one half of the garden guarding her bone, baby and professional thief Maggie is lurking in the other half of the garden with one eye on her bone and the other on anything anyone else has that might be edible, and my darling Ollie is parked by the oven in case something exciting happens. Both cats have given up threatening death and disaster to all thieves and are sleeping their lamb off on my chair.
Me? I’m looking at houses and getting depressed. Again…
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