Custard

Time once again for the weekend catch-up post! Where do the weeks go?

On Friday night I went up to Birmingham (my goodness – it never occured to me that I might live anywhere from which Birmingham was “up”!) to visit Nat, for a night of take away, girl talk and DVDs while Steve is away. We certainly indulged in all of the above – a delicious Chinese takeaway which I gorged myself on, both on Friday night and Saturday leftovers lunchtime – a lot of random jabber and Juno, a really fab film that I had somehow failed to see before now. I had previously loved Ellen Page in Whip It, and was not remotely disappointed by her performance in this. Great stuff.

On Saturday we had a very lazy morning – which mostly involved me crawling from the spare room into Nat’s bed to watch Saturday Kitchen, then from Nat’s bed downstairs onto the sofa for breakfast, and completely failing to get dressed until nearly 1pm. (Which is surely how the best Saturdays begin?) Once we were finally dressed, Nat had promised me a trip to the Wing Yip supermarket, from whence I needed to completely restock my store cupboard. Having lived in China Town in Newcastle, I find the Big 5 supermarket prices on items such as soy sauce and noodles to be unbelievably steep, and while Leamington is fantastic for cheap spices and the like, it is less well set up for Oriental cuisine!

When I was a schoolgirl I had the nickname “custard”. This was in part because of my passion for custard, in part because of my friend Sarah’s nickname being Syrup… You get the idea. By high school this had shortened to Cus, which is by far the ugliest nickname I’ve endured in my time. But the connection remained – Caroline and her love of all things thick, yellow, and vanilla-sweet.

The Brits fall into two distinct camps where custard is concerned. There’s the Ambrosia camp, with their Devon custard, straight from the tin. And there’s the Birds camp, enamoured with the tub-bought, pink powder that turns magically pale and yellow when warmed with milk and sugar. Birds reminds me of the puddings of youth – crumbles and pies and suet sponges, roly poly, spotted dick, treacle sponge… There is some crossover – where time or availability is a factor, I will condescend to open a tin of Ambrosia. But at heart I am a Birds girls, and forever so will stay…

Lookit what Nat spotted at the supermarket:

Is that not the BIGGEST  bag of Birds you ever did espy? I was overjoyed at the prospect of taking this home! Unfortunately, I had to take the practical into account – it was heavy and I was train-bound; I have a barely-touched tub of Birds in the cupboard already; I live in a flat so small that this bag alone would take up approximately half of my entire storage space (you think I’m exaggerating… ok, but only a very little). I had to put the custard back.

But it was ok, because I was compensated for my loss with an afternoon of watching Gilmore Girls in bed. Which is the only proper way to spend a Saturday afternoon, I’m sure you’ll agree! 😀

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