The big fat Pidgeon wasn’t there today. Instead, a pair of Ringneck Doves occupied his branch. Maybe they put him off, or maybe they take it in turns to branch share, who knows? I say ‘Ringneck Doves’ with caution, because the dove website says they only live in captivity and the tree in my garden isn’t.
I’m writing this having just got back from the shop where I bought a packet of Oreos. I’d forgotten quite how much I dislike them and that brought back another vivid memory.
When I was a young teenager my best friend was Dan, an American whose father worked for the U.S. government. In those days we had nothing American other than Levis and Kojak. Consequently I loved hanging out at his house where they had a weird cornucopia of fantastic comestibles. It was there I was turned on to root beer, discovered the delights of salsa and corn chips, became addicted to Reeces Pieces (and the ever sickly but moorish Reeces Peanut Butter Cups), and found out that Hersey chocolate wasn’t the be all and end all, but was actually rather foul – though not as foul as Cadbury’s chocolate was to the American palate, apparently.
And then, once I’d been thoroughly inculcated into their strange and enticing foreign ways, I was taken to the PX! OMFG! I thought it was better than sex – though at the time I hadn’t the foggiest idea what that was and I’d now like to officially retract the sentiment. The PX was amazing, though. A supermarket full of American goods not available in the U.K.. I was a pig in heaven and spent all my pocket money.
Now, of course, there’s nothing you can’t get either in your local corner shop, where I bought the Oreos, or via the net. In a way it’s sad, because you really don’t need to meet new people, or travel, to try the weirdly strange – Amazon will deliver.