Spam Fritters. I think this comes back to my being slow, but at school I always managed to get to lunch late, by which time you had whatever was at the bottom of the tray. And Spam Fritters from the bottom of the tray were vile. Dripping fat and soggy, they tasted only of sawdust and fat. Urgh.
Why mention them? Well, being inquisitive I thought I would look at the 'viewings' page for the Blog - it is the thought that someone might read this that makes me have to Tell Two People each day and then write about it. I saw that someone from Russia had read the Blog - how amazing! - and recounting this to a friend I suggested that it was as unusual as the idea of me liking spam fritters. (Perhaps that's one of those 'You had to be there' stories?)
So, have I told anyone today? - of course! I emailed a friend in Australia who is crook (that is, being 'unwell' rather than a burglar). I thought that he might like to read about life in Merrie Englande so sent him the link.
While waiting at the Cash Point I recognised the top half of that nice lady from the Post Office - she is normally invisible from the waist down for any punters wanting to post a package - and found myself in conversation with her. Working behind the Post Office counter, I decided that she must be used to peculiar conversations and I was not about to disappoint her. Without a flinch she listened to my story and even managed a smile - a true professional.
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