Saturday 17 January 2009

Sawley, Cheese and Walks.

One of the problems with being comfortable is that things start to change just as soon as they seem to be just right. Usually this is because they are not right for someone else, so the whole life-comfort-faith-work structure comes tumbling down like a dodgy pyramid selling scheme when all the gullible people in the neighbourhood have been recruited. The Spread Eagle at Sawley, above, used to provide predictable, excellent Sunday Lunches, on the rare occasion that I was not invited to someones house or had people at my house. Sadly, it is now refurbished and more trendy and sells food which is of the moment, but less comfortable and visibly keen, a trait I find worrying.

A short walk this afternoon soon put paid to any lingering discomfort suffered while looking askance at the website for the pub, wondering where the tablecloths and bar had gone, the great march of progress now having reached Sawley. I was also puzzled to see the ruins of Sawley Abbey bearing a sign from a building and restoration company. I know that the Church of England likes apologising to people who do not wish to be apologised to, but undissolving the monasteries seems to be going too far, even for the Chaos Line of the General Synod.

This path led to a forest clearing where the ground was scattered with spent cartridges and blasted tree stumps, so I hastened back the other way, until I realised that I could be hastening in the direction the mystery people shoot in, so I resumed the walk on the other side of a dry stone wall.

Talking of Sunday Lunch, my friends tomorrow will not be getting Roquefort cheese, but a wheel of brie. Roquefort is still easily available in this country, but American readers are advised to stock up fast, because in one of the last acts of his 'administration', George Bush has,not found a way to peace in Gaza or anywhere for that matter, but raised the import tax on Roquefort by three hundred percent, in an attempt to poison the bodies of Europeans as well as his own lot, by forcing the EU to drop its ban on meat with hormones added. How the hormones are added is not in my understanding, but it brings to mind the judge in the McDonalds case who, upon hearing how a McNugget (a piece of chicken coloured protein) was created, commented that it was as far removed from cooking as it was possible to get. Rise up, American readers and show your grief for the passing of the Bush administration (until his next family member comes along) by carpeting the road by the gates of the White House, Diana-mania style, with a field of Roquefort.