Tandoori Nights

Tandoori Nights (or why I love Indian food)

As the sun sank down in the West,

I sank pints down the pub without worry,

And I found that I’d developed a craving:

What I needed next was a bloody hot curry.

You see KFC just wouldn’t cut it:

The chicken tasted like some old flab.

Fish and chips were no good at the time,

And I couldn’t go near a doner kebab.

There’s other things I could have had if I’d wanted:

Chinese – but you have to be in the right mood,

You’re usually hungry again an hour later,

And to be honest  it’s not my favourite food.

An Indian it had to be for me then,

It was no time to act like a shrinking lily,

Something to clear my sinuses out,

A meal with a kick of some chillie!

Poppadoms I started with, and some pickles,

Bhajias, pakoras and some tikka –

So hot that it made my throat go numb,

You can tell I’m an Indian thrill-seeker.

I’d no idea what next I should choose

Picking one was something of a great drama.

Dhansak, Madras or a hot Vindaloo -

Patia, Jalfreezie, or Chillie Masala?

Chicken, vegetable or lamb for main course?

A tough question I had to decide.

Cooked in which tasty, spicy sauce?

Cos I always like a bit on the side.

There was bhindi, gobi and aloo –

Vegetable koftas, dhal and some rice.

I had to have all of these dishes:

I didn’t care so long as there was plenty of spice.

I hadn’t even started yet on the breads:

Naans, rotis and chapattis all soft,

I mopped up the delicious sauces.

And four pints of lager I quaffed.

And when it was all ordered and eaten,

When I couldn’t eat one other thing,

When my stomach was finally beaten,

And my mouth continued to sting.

I’d finished my lager and was getting the bill,

I knew that I’d be back again in a hurry.

I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever be cured,

Of this addiction I’ve got for a curry.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 21st July 2013

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 21^st  July 2013

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

1.       News is still eagerly awaited on the birth of new baby expected by the daughter of the bloke that owns the chip-shop in the High Street.  A reporter from the Bromham Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) has been camped outside the shop for four days now, whilst awaiting for the news, sustained only by the occasional battered Saveloy.  The girl’s grandmother, a Mrs Queenie Piglet, has been heard to say that she wishes she’d get on with it, as “one is going on holiday soon”.  One was not available for comment.

2.       The brother of the man whose cousin’s best friend’s sister knows the bloke who knocked off the helmet of Bromham’s only patrolling police-man last week, has expressed his dismay at the treatment of the accused whilst held in prison. Being previously of good health, the man has now lost three front teeth, has two broken ribs, a broken arm, a ruptured spleen, two black eyes, bruising all over his body, and is unable to walk unaided.  A spokesman for the Prison Officer’s Union, speaking outside Bromham Maximum Security Prison, said that the man had obviously “stumbled slightly” and may have been injured as prison officers rushed to his aid.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

Redcurrant Jelly

Recipe for: REDCURRANT JELLY

Ingredients:

• 900g redcurrants, rinsed (but you can leave the stalks on)
• 450g granulated sugar

Method:

1. place the currants in a preserving pan & add 150ml water
2. bring to the boil, then simmer for 5 to 10 minutes until very tender, crushing them as they cook
3. tip the whole lot into a jelly bag or clean muslin & allow to drip overnight.  Do not squeeze the bag or the jelly will be cloudy
4. next day, discard the solids in the jelly bag & measure the juice
5. in a clean pan, for every 600ml juice, add 450g sugar
6. heat gently, stirring to dissolve the sugar, then raise the heat & boil rapidly for about 15 minutes or until the setting point has been reached 
7. skim off any surface scum, and pot into dry warm sterilised small jars
8. cool, seal & label

What else you need to know:

1. exactly the same recipe can be used for BLACKCURRANTS.  Either jelly will be clear & have an intense flavour
2. great served with pork, chicken, turkey or lamb roasts
3. also good with pate or cheese, or spread on toast for breakfast

The Shopping Forecast

The Shopping Forecast 

And now for the Shopping Forecast,

Issued by the Met Office today.

They want to clear out their sales goods,

And they think this is a good way.

There are warnings of Sales in these areas:

The bargains are quite striking.

And to help with this new ploy,

The manager’s dressed up like a Viking.

Chippenham High Street and town centre -

Depressing & occasionally poor.

Increasing number of pound shops,

And charity outlets at every door.

Woolworths has long gone now,

And many shops have gone silent.

After dark it gets much worse -

Dangerous, occasionally violent.

Somerfield and The Co-op – moderate,

Though there’s not much in the aisles.

Tesco, Asda and Sainsbury

Are out of town – five miles.

But small shops on the High Street,

And others of such propensity,

Then there’s Bejam and Safeway,

Finally losing their identity.

Lidl & Netto – very depressing,

But a bargain or two in the process.

Backing up at the checkouts:

Expected to get better – I guess.

Piles of goods – poor visibility.

Bright coloured trolleys – veering.

Unclear why they don’t fix them,

And try to improve on the steering.

Although there are local variations,

Getting around there is erratic.

It takes a Force 8 to push them,

Then you get to the checkout - automatic

The general position in Devizes:

Moderate or good – price marking.

Bear, Pelican and Black Swan:

Market Place – good parking.

Corsham – fast foods & some bargains,

Kebab shops – always increasing.

Markets on Tuesday – improving.

Discounts - never ceasing.

  

Marlborough – posh shops & Waitrose;

Prosperous and very well-heeled.

Punters with more money than sense,

Though some were born in a field.

M4 motorway – veering west:

Bath & Bristol – always enticing.

Wallet - slowly emptying.

At Iceland – moderate icing.

Cribbs Causeway – intimidating.

To get in there’s a big deal.

Debenhams, and House of Fraser -

Credit card – beginning to squeal.

So here is the general Synopsis:

If you run out funds you must borrow.

Depressingly the same I’m afraid,

But improving – better tomorrow.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

The Bottom-Pincher of Old Corsham Town

The Bottom-Pincher of Old Corsham Town (the latest in a line starting with Milligan/ Goons’ Dreaded Batter Pudding-Hurler of Bexhill-on-Sea, and Milligan/ Two Ronnies’ The Raspberry-Blower of Old London Town)

There’s a town in West Wiltshire,

That stands out proud on the A4.

Let me tell you a tale of old Corsham,

That you’ve not heard of before.

For in this quiet, peaceful corner,

With its old High Street & its shopping,

Things most nefarious were afoot,

Which would have your jaw dropping.

This old weaving town had its characters,

Its girls on the corner and punks,

The bag-ladies, and kebab-sellers,

And the usual winos & drunks.

The car parks and the toilets,

The back-streets and the alleys,

But surrounded by great country,

With rolling hills & some valleys.

T’was a peaceful town it’s reported:

In the Gazette there was an article,

About the town’s small Hadron collider

And the search for the Chippenham particle.

But then this peace was suddenly broken:

The ladies there broke into a sweat,

For out on the streets one day,

Emerged a terrible new threat.

An elusive figure, a pimpernel,

His crime was a clincher:

Creeping up behind ladies:

The phantom bottom-pincher.

At first they were all in an outrage,

For he didn’t seem really to choose

The attractive younger ladies:

It was the older ones he tended to goose.

But soon they felt themselves flattered:

I just have this to mention,

It may have been a bad thing to do,

But really they liked the attention.

For shopping in Corsham was boring,

Thrills could be quite hard to find,

Even if the criminal was unknown

At least someone’d touched their behinds.

So no-one ever reported the crime,

The police were powerless to act,

But the ladies’ husbands became annoyed

And vowed vengeance - that’s a fact.

The provisional wing of the Salvation Army

Were brought in to scout,

But they never spotted the crime,

They never caught the chap out.

The bum-pincher became a popular figure,

Of his habit he took fully his fill,

There was no-one to get cross with,

For the victims shared in the thrill

So you’ll find if you go into Corsham,

It’s a town of wonderful places,

But now you know the deep secret

Of so many smiling faces.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

My God, But It's Hot!

My God But It’s Hot

The flags on the flagpoles hang limp

The air’s as dry as sandpaper

The Earth’s turning back into dust

And as the mercury climbs

All my energy’s shot

I’m sweating a lot

My God, but it’s hot!

The lawn has turned brown and yellow

And patches have died quite away

The veggies are wilted and small

The Test Match goes on uninterrupted

The heatwave goes on and on

Pleasant it’s not

In fact it’s quite grot

My God, but it’s hot!

Everyone’s stripping off & perspiring

We’re getting through gallons of sunscreen

But still our skin’s burning

The Sun’s a bright disc in the sky

Almost like a red dot

I’m sure it’s a dark plot

My God, but it’s hot!

The temperature is just “Scorchio”

In French it’s “tres chaud”

In German “sehr heiss”

It could be in Fahrenheit

It might be in Centrigade

The thermometer’s shot

I don’t know what’s what

My God, but it’s hot!

The forecast holds no relief

And reservoirs are wasting away

There’ll soon be an end to sprinklers

And a ban on the use of hosepipes

Then the ground will turn to powder

And whatever we’ve got

Even fresh  food will rot

My God, but it’s hot!

The fans toil away regardless

But there’s no cooling relief

Yet this is only a Summer

It’s the thing that we wanted

The Winter will be back soon enough

I care not a jot

For that is our lot

My God, but it’s hot!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

The Good (Allotment) Life

The Good (Allotment) Life

I’ll tell you all a cautionary tale,

If you’ll just give me some pardon,

Of how I dug out an allotment,

Down at the end of my garden.

The patch was all covered in weeds,

And at first I started to panic,

But you can’t let things stand in your way,

If you’re set on a life more organic.

So I rotavated and weeded and dug,

And laid the jungle all to a waste.

All this in pursuit of some veggies,

And produce superior of taste.

The effort I put in was enormous,

What with much raking & tilling.

Every day I was quite knackered,

But I found it strangely fulfilling.

And when I’d got it laid out quite flat,

There was still the marking & hoeing.

There seemed so much I’d still got to do,

And I hadn’t even started the sowing.

Then it all had to be fertilised:

Compost, manure, whatever you call it -

But the man on the farm where I went,

Just said I should call it horse-shit.

I carried it and tipped it onto the patch;

I dug it all in and then sat.

Only to discover I’d created a toilet,

Mostly for the use of our cat.

So I raked it all over once more,

And then had to do some light weeding.

Then, at last, after weeks of effort,

I finally got to the seeding.

Beetroot, pumpkins and potatoes:

I went at it quite maddish.

Courgettes & beans all in a row,

And in the corner – some radish.

I planted out carrots, potatoes & peas,

Some caulis, cabbage and kale,

And I looked out on it so proudly -

How could it possibly fail?

I soon found out there were problems:

For as soon as I’d worked off my nadgers,

The beautiful crops that were growing,

Had just become fast food for the badgers.

The crops were under attack night & day,

Although I was clean in my habits.

For as soon as the lettuces came up,

It was feeding time for the rabbits.

Pigeons, mice and slugs all attacked me:

I tried to drive out their tails,

But they all seemed to get past me,

To say nothing of squash-eating snails.

I ranted & raved in frustration,

And scared them away with my shouts.

Well – you have to do something,

If you’re going to hang on to your sprouts.

Bad weather then came down upon me,

As I struggled with every means.

It’s a lot of effort to go to,

Just so I can freshly eat beans.

But now I’ve got my freezer full,

After working and busting my gut,

For after the initial famine,

I find I’m now facing a glut.

So I’d just like to say in my summary,

It’s very well trying to live The Good Life.

But there must be easier ways to get by,

Than feeding all of the local wild-life.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013