Our fridge is broken. I rang my sister for sympathy.
Me (dolefully): Guess what?
Me: Our fridge has broken down.
Her: Thank God, I thought that you were going to say that you were pregnant.
I rang the Baroness’s agent (yes our landlady is a Baroness, welcome to Belgium, land of minor aristocracy) but
Charles-Emmanuel was unmoved by our plight. “But,” I pleaded “we have twin babies, we really NEED a fridge.” “Madam,” he said unmoved, “everybody needs a fridge.”
In fairness, however, the Baroness and her ex-husband (all the tenants wish that they’d get back together, he’s very handy and efficient) turned up to inspect the offending fridge, pronounced it dead and have since arranged for a new one to be purchased. Delivery is, alas, still pending. This is a matter of particular regret to me since I bought a lot of post-Christmas discount foie gras (in Belgium, foie gras is for Christmas not for life) and now it all has to be chucked.
on 18 January 2006 at 15:49
Weâ€™ll come round and help you out with the eating.
on 18 January 2006 at 16:11
Maybe you could send the foie gras to the baroness in order to stress the importance of receiving a new fridge ASAP.
on 18 January 2006 at 16:37
Why *minor* aristocracy ? Aristocracy is measured by its origins in time, rather than a scale of titles â€¦ Your baroness could very well be from a family dating from the 12th century, and a Count might as well be from a family belonging to aristocracy since the early 1900â€™s â€¦
on 18 January 2006 at 20:48
Just as well, knowing what foie gras is supposed to do to the libidoâ€¦
on 19 January 2006 at 02:26
Baroness makes a good point. Take my family, for instance. We can trace our origins back to Adam and Eve.
on 19 January 2006 at 04:39
just recovering from my posting faux pas of a few days ago to say â€¦ â€˜toast points for everyone!â€™ i am quite jealous that you have good foie gras available to you, nevermind its incipient demise.
on 19 January 2006 at 12:08
It is very gratifying to discover that you all like foie gras.
Baroness, with all due respect, no matter how old a baronetcy is, I think that itâ€™s pretty low down the pecking order.
on 19 January 2006 at 12:45
Thatâ€™s awful â€“ just awful â€“ throwing away foie gras is a tragedy
on 20 January 2006 at 12:15
Pog, I am delighted to add you to the long list of my readers who are foie gras fans. Perhaps we could set up a club.
on 20 January 2006 at 12:53
Yes â€“ we could have secret handshakes and codes (eg the grey geese fly at dawn). Ahem.
on 20 January 2006 at 13:18
Hmmm, grey geese that fly at dawn etc. Another unexpected depth to the Pog(gle).
But what I really wanted to say was that I have vague memories of being emotionally savaged by a policy wonk / veggie type I loved deeply but too well because of what they do to geese to make foie gras. All about locking them in barns, force-feeding them, clipping wings and oversized livers that made their legs break. And so on.
Kind of put me off for a while. But Iâ€™m allright nowâ€¦
Ainâ€™t time a wonderful thing?!
on 20 January 2006 at 13:20
Your policy wonk/veggie type was telling the truth. I am a bad person. Sometimes my appetite outweighs my conscience. But you already knew that, right?
on 20 January 2006 at 13:51
We are all bad people in some small ways; unthinkingly dragging (one of our two) new blankets through the gutters of life. Except â€˜waf. Who is amazingly stoic and clear-sighted or something.
(Can anything truly outweigh conscience? Just wonderingâ€¦. )
on 20 January 2006 at 13:53
Youâ€™re right, of course. My conscience doesnâ€™t generally get outweighed. Sometimes it gets pushed to the back because of an excess of vin rouge (or similar), but not for long.
on 23 January 2006 at 09:08
Conscience? Whatâ€™s that? The grey geese fly at dawn, my friends.
on 23 January 2006 at 20:41
So that would be geese and conscience flying with the windâ€¦.. 0
on 25 January 2006 at 08:51
Eh, yes Jack. 0