Read it in the Sunday Papers...

One thing I really like about being in England is the Sunday Paper orgy on…well, on Sundays.

I find I am even willing to get up early to enjoy it to the full. I set the alarm, drag myself out of bed - after two hits on the snooze button, put the coffee on or the water for a pot of tea and nip up the road to the paper shop.

This maybe stems from my time as a teenager at home. My dad had a drinking pal who worked for the local newspaper in Liverpool and in exchange for regular free samples of my dad’s home-made beer this bloke would drop the Sunday papers through our letter box on the way home from his Saturday/Sunday night shift - and when I say the Sunday papers I mean ALL the Sunday papers… a back-breaking favour even in those days.

So we got the News of the World, People, Sunday Mirror, Sunday Express, Sunday Times, Sunday Telegraph, Observer and for no apparent reason the Sunday Post with Scottish news. I still remember the almost never-ending sound of the papers plopping one by one onto the floor in the hall.

Anyway, what caught my eye this weekend were two stories:

First was the article about Britain’s humble crumble becoming a favourite in France. French chefs and in the meantime even froggy gourmets have discovered the fruit crumble. In the posh restaurants you can now get une crumble de rhubarbe although they have apparently not yet discovered custard.

This inspired us to have an apple crumble…sorry, une crumble d’apples on Sunday too - topped by something wonderful we found in Sainsbury’s, low-fat double cream…I mean, isn’t that wonderful..? Low-fat double cream ! You might as well try and sell low-fat fat.

It was trés wonderful though.

The other story which captured my imagination was about a young bloke who is an auctioneer at Sotheby’s. In accordance with a new trend to shed some of the materialistic panoply of modern life this guy has given up living in a house or a flat and instead spends his nights in a DITCH near Oxford! He still manages to arrive at work on time and impeccably dressed – though quite how he manages that remains a mystery – and says it is wonderful to be woken by the sound of the birds tweeting in the trees overhead.

Imagine meeting him at a disco and getting chatted up…and then being invited back to his place…any girl worth her salt would soon ditch him…

This, however, led me to consider the worst places I have ever slept...but this will have to wait for another post, another time...