Excuse/reason to blog, look.
So, Saturday evening I/we (perhaps not you) were at the excellent KillerQueen, which you should go to, for dancing and that. We come out at around? 3? I have no timepiece... and James is a bit woeful 'cos he feels that 10 years ago, he'd have been able to go a few more hours. I dispute this, I think you just need to prepare (conversely I am better now than then at allnighters as I have more practice). He says, 'All I want now is sleeeeep'. I suggest an improvement: 'Bacon sandwich, then sleep'. Once the issue of bacon is raised, it must be made so. But there are obstacles: James has bread but nobacon, and I have neither. (Additionally, I do have sleeping Ben and it is international LAW that you do not cook bacon whilst others sleep.) Problem 1.
Also it must be settled who is going to who's place and where. I have a wee car, but can squash folk in if they are willing to be shoehorned. If I get some petrol I can take a contingent back to Leamington. Problem 2.
We will go to Cannon Park where there is 24hr Tesco, and a petrol station. I'm not much on Tesco but they probably won't screw up bacon and I've wanted to kno how to get there for a bit, so I can go and buy Chinese groceries. Is handy.
Last time I went to Leamington I couldn't find it, at first, and now I can't find owt so have to turn round in Kenilworth (you do not want this). Then it is recalled that it's technically Sunday now, and 24hr does not extend that far due to trading laws. Awkward.
And at this point you are ready just about to go on Facebook and update to: 'damn judeochristian phallocracy are denying me BACON.' Have you had a moment like that?
OK, so we get to Cannon Park and the Tesco looks like it always does i.e. too many lights. But there's a petrol station, even if only 2 machines are allowed at this time of night/morning/ungodly hour. Folk unsquish from the car, and 3 go to see if the supermarket can be infiltrated. We have to pay with a card which I do not have but Joe is generous and we will use his. (Ta!)
On the first go it does not respond, and does not give out any fuel. Second go: it say no, not working. Does not give details. And the bacon trekkers come back with news that indeed, we can't do any shopping now. God be Praised with lack of bacon. Joe goes to see if the next machine will work, and it does, so I roll the car the 3 poxin' metres up and get fuel.
We are amused. 'You just wrote a blank cheque... to a machine!' Maybe the CCTV folk will be, too.
So now we have petrol but still no bacon and you can't eat the former. Would you want to? Is it crispy? But, Ruth & Joe have a great notion: they have bacon, and will dispense it to us. This is super. (We will also get to see their excellent cat.) In Leamington, 4 people are disgorged and swapped for bacon.
Return. Toast, grill, trough. Good times!
Conclusions: if we were married to bacon, it would be tremendously impressed by our dedicated pursuit of it and would wear no knickers around the house. I am talking more and more like Molesworth*. And at t'moment I only have Jaffa cakes to eat, and am not sure how to feel about it.
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