06 December 2009

English culture

There are aspects of English culture of which non-English Europeans can imagine that one would like to indulge in. There are those of which that is somewhat less likely. And one of my plans for the Saturday was: enable myself to watch the BBC. I presume it is bon ton to say that isn't what is used to be anymore, but I can't tell, I haven't been able to watch it for years. But I wanted to! So I decided to go buy a digibox. It's a modern country, it really is, so such an object is necessary.

Yet first I wanted to buy a car. And I found one on internet! And I made an appointment to go and see it. Rob heard of that plan, and panicked. He was out of town in the weekend! And he had such faith in my car knowledge he was afraid I'd buy any object someone would present to me as a good, reliable car. So he ernestly asked me to bring an advisor. He'd have done it himself had he been around...

Ayway. I found an expert in the shape of Duncan, our wildfire PhD student, and we needed to evaluate the testdrive in a pub. Of course. Duncan was hungry, and knew the pub sold pickled eggs. Pickled eggs! The sorriest excuse for foodstuffs humanity has ever come up with! I clearly remember my only encounter with the abomination. A sedimentary geology christmas lunch to which  the resident Brit had contributed pickled eggs. The first who dared try concluded that it was the foulest he'd ever tasted. The next said "it can't be that bad; let me try too!" and the scene repeated itself, untill everybody had had a try, and all except for the Brit were close to vomiting. So much for pickled eggs.

There is something about granting people, or aborted chickens, or whatever really, a second chance. And this egg did not smell bad. I tried! And probably our sedimentary Brit just hated all his colleagues, and wanted to kill all of them by means of his apocalyptical eggs, that he had perhaps kept until decennia after their "best before" date, but this one was unquestionably different. It was edible! Who would have thought.



Anyway. I afterwards bought a digibox, which happily concluded it received 0 stations, so that experiment needs finetuning. Maybe the cable is malfunctioning. I'll try to find out! But in the meantime I can polish my budding Britishness by eating Pickled eggs...

4 comments:

Maaike said...

Maar heb je nou een auto?

Margot said...

Goed he, ik deed een cliffhanger! Blijf kijken voor nieuwe ontknopingen in de Margot-probeert-een-auto-te-kopen soap! :p

Maaike said...

O nee! De suspense! Arg!

Natasha Barlow said...

Margot, seriously not all Brits eat pickled eggs! I think they are the most disgusting thing in the world!