PRINCE GEORGE OF CAMBRIDGE*

*This Post is not about Prince George.

Not the Prince George

Prince George is largely irrelevant.


Only to this story!  Heck people, Prince G is not irrelevant!  Nothing shakes your world like the arrival of your First Born, Prince of the Realm or not.

This post is about a George - Saint George.

Or, actually - not.

But it is about my world being shaken, so you may want to take a moment to prepare.

Deep breath and ... ready?

I am going to take you back in time to April (imagine wibbly fuzzy lines) - April 23rd to be precise, for that is St George's Day. He of Dragon Slaying Fame.

.

This is also fairly irrelevant, but that seems to be the way this post is going.


So...St George's Day and Mr W is celebrating the Patron Saint of England's Designated Day by spending the evening with some friends in a local pub.  Here the Publicans mark this auspicious occasion (St G's day, not Mr W and  his friends visiting) by providing their clientele with free sausage and mash.

As in no money changing hands whatsoever.

Awesome.

Presumably they feel this is traditional English Fare - although sausage is for-surely German (although possibly not - I did start a Google search but got side-tracked looking at pics of celebs before they were famous).  Potatoes, I am almost entirely fairly sure, originally came from South America.

Potatoes : From South America or Tesco -
whichever's nearest

But it matters not** and indeed back to the point ...

"That'll be good", I said to Mr W as he was getting ready, "Sausage and Mash - yummers!"

"Yeah," said Mr W, "except I really do not like mash".

!?!?!? What?!? Que?!?!? Was?!!?!

 

*Quite the linguist when in shock. I thank you :o)*

Since when?!?

 

17 years we have been together.  17 years!

In that time I have mastered cups of tea just how he likes them (or so I thought), grown to love watching football (now I wonder if I was misguided), and cooked his favourite meals countless times ... including...

Sausage and Mash.

Oh, only about a kersquillion times.

What other bombshells, I wonder, does he have up his sleeve?
(I may be mixing my metaphors there).

 

I shudder to think.


Reeling, dear reader ... still reeling ...




** Especially as it seems Saint George may well be Turkish :o)