Monday 19^th February, 2018 1630

Ok so I lost impetus last night and instead made myself omelette and chips. This evening I am definitely going for that Italian sausage sub!

                                                           I ran out of peas

The two girls are back in town and unless anything goes wrong (they never do with me of course!) we rendezvous at 1600 tomorrow, take to the buses and go to the Japanese, maybe a bar later. Unless they are off the menu, one of those huge cheesy prawns apiece will be one of the items ordered! Handy also that Annie can speak rudimentary Chinese, whilst the pictures on the menu are mostly sufficient for the ignoramus, had Joan not ordered one when I took her, to this day I would have simply assumed it was a fish – which is precisely what the picture looks like.

Last night when I went to the jing jo shop there was almost a full house. There are a son and daughter who I often see during holidays, one I think still at uni, the daughter used to work at the chemists at BHG, now that has closed following the major refurbishment I have no idea, I must remember to ask her next time I see her. Anyway, the kids can speak rudimentary English so for once I can get a stilted conversation with the owners.

Well for the past fortnight the husband's father (I assume he is his rather than the wife because they are both similarly unattractive) has been there, I assume for the spring festival. He always sits in a snug which in reality is the entrance to a minute storeroom for the shop. The shop itself is tiny anyway. He always seems happy to see me and indeed it is reciprocated – I call him babar and yes, he is indeed old enough to be my father, certainly in his eighties, possibly nineties. Anyway, last night Mama was there too for the first time. With no room in the “snug” she was firmly parked behind the counter.

She was typical of any elderly lady anywhere in the world in cold weather, swathed in warm attire and with a hat a Grenadier guardsman would envy. Via the daughter I asked her why she married the old man as he was so ugly. Everyone seemingly found this funny, except perhaps the shop owner, the son. He tapped me and indicated his own face, meaning I assume, what about me, I am his son? I summoned the best body language I could to avoid the need for translation and immediately afterwards feigned throwing up. I fled to sounds of genuine laughter. I'm sure they think I am potty, as do the veg people who probably still don't understand why I buy pigeons and let them go rather than make a stir fry!

I have of late been getting lots of Facebook messages about eating dogs. I don't partake of course but always they target China because of the Yulin meat festival which occurs in June each year. Steeped in tradition (it started way back in 2010 to revive tourism so it has been happening since time immemorial), it attracts tourists to be sure, many of them determined to rescue as many dogs as they can and paying by the kg to do so.

But comments made really annoy me. Clearly the uneducated are unaware that many other countries eat dog and cat meat, not just the minority in China. Only now since the winter olympics commenced are they realising that yes, South Korea does. And the Yanks are ignorant of the fact that eating a mutt is legal in most states as well. The Swiss enjoy the occasional woofburger too. But oh no, it's all China's fault. Parts of India regard the cow as sacred and I have yet to see a campaign to stop Peruvians from eating guinea pigs!

Sometimes I am sorely tempted to say farewell to antisocial media. It only gets me annoyed and attacked on all fronts.

Ok shower time, then I am off to get that keenly anticipated torpedo. I shall be sure to let you know if they have run out of bread again!