Sometimes a barbarian can be spoiled for choice; do we raid to the West or to the East? We love the delectable sweet and savoury titbits from the Americas, dripping with grease, but we also have a craving for the spicy, aromatic temptations of the Orient, brimming with fire! To the Wild West of the US, we’ll have to deal with cowboys and gun slingers and to the Far East to Thailand, we’ll confront Muay Thai Boxers, fighting on the backs of elephants.
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An Image popped into my head; “Batter”, “Coconut”. A strange thought. Then again, another flash, “Chicken” and “Curry”. So vivid, it was almost real.
Then, a voice whispered… “If you whisk it, it’ll be yum!”
I turn; no one there.
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Eggnog: that delicious Yule Tide beverage made of milk, eggs and spices, popularised in so many Christmas television specials and movies where the family’s outcast uncle has a bit too much “Christmas Spirit”. Scenes where grandmas ladle themselves multiple lugs of lush and creamy mugs of warmed and whisky drenched cheer, only to later chase the neighbour’s kids while wearing a mistletoe hat.
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The stockings are strung,
The tree has been trimmed,
In the hope that a jolly
Old friend will drop in.
But the year has been long,
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When I was an adolescent I was told that those years would be the best years of my life. Teachers, my parents and old ladies at bus stops would say,
“Enjoy your life while you can, before you have responsibility and other obligations!
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Conformity? It’s just another word for towing the line. Being just another sheep in the flock. Playing the proverbial game. I can understand the desire to fit in, the gods know; social recognition, friends, fame, fortune, but why do that? Is it not better to love what you love to hell with those that disapprove? Did Peter Rosendahl bow to peer pressure when the world told him that there was something missing in his life?
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A stiff drink and a steak; is this not the recipe to win the heart of any warrior? What if this warrior was not one barbarian, but a whole hoard of warriors? What if the libations laid out before the approaching army as tribute were drank by the sacrificial beast? Well after a quick drive to the local to get more booze, you should be sure to slaughter said beast and give these Marauders the best of both worlds… Boozy Beef Tacos!
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You’ve eaten, you’ve drank and been merry. Your pants no longer fit, but that’s ok as you the shorts you received from Santa are elasticated and have an extra-long draw string. You’ve managed to survive the visiting extended family with the aid of gallons of wine and ale, and nursed the subsequent hangover with a past its prime roasted potato or two or hastily torn off chunks of ham from a vinegary damp sack in the fridge.
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So you’ve swiped right on your Kindling App and met a special someone. You’ve been conversing for a while, and you’ve checked out her/his profile on the Twitbook and MyFace and maybe swapped a picture or two on Clicktalk. You’ve somehow convinced them that you’re not a psycho and you’ve even gone for coffee and a mug of ale. All has gone well, she/ he doesn’t mind your smell and hasn’t let on that you’ve worn your only good shirt out for your first two dates.
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I think it’s safe to say that I can walk into almost any man’s kitchen, open the pantry and find a half empty packet of dried pasta sitting skew if on the shelf, surrounded by commercial pasta sauce jars and dried parmesan cheese sachets, resembling a homeless man on a park bench with a missing shoe, encircled by a fort made of cardboard boxes, broken shopping bags and old crumpled newspapers.
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