All Fools' Day

[On April Fools' Day 1980, the BBC announced Big Ben's clock face was going digital and whoever got in touch first would win the clock hands. I don't remember this one, but I rather like it]

We decided that it was appropriate to hold two celebrations for the capture of the 500th trolley, noticed at reference 1. With the first to be held on All Fools' Day, at the Blenheim, aka TB, up the road.

Business has been slow over the past couple of years and both hours and menu have been restricted in consequence, with just a short menu most lunchtimes. Which seems eminently sensible. And we were quite happy with what we got, even if there was not a cabbage leaf to be seen. Even if the goujons of cod were delivered with the main courses, rather than as a preliminary, which was what we were expecting. They were also freshly cooked and rather larger than we were expecting. Not that much smaller than the portion of cod which BH took as her main course. While I suppose, not being very up on goujons, my expectation was a sort of cross between a potato croquette and a fish finger.

The Yellowtail which we took last year and had rather liked, had gone AWOL so we settled for that above, from the people at reference 2. Apparently a family with very deep roots in New Zealand, including a strong Maori connection. A family which was into potato farming for potato crisps until recently - just a few years ago - but they look to have done pretty well with their new venture. My only comment would be that it made the drop of Jameson which followed taste rather sweet, more like sherry than whisky.

The scene on the small sheet of grease proof on which the fish and chips was served had been faked up to look like newspaper, a gesture towards the newspaper that takeaway fish and chips once used to be served in, before being ruled unhygienic. And rather than just dig out a digital copy of a single sheet from an old newspaper, the graphic artist given the job had concocted a sort of patchwork quilt, including both material which looks to be derived from the time of the second world war and advertisements - the sort of thing you used to get in the red top Sunday papers - including decimalised prices, which did not come in until more than twenty years later. Perhaps a gesture to the thrifty habits of chip shop proprietors of old. That said, more likely these days that the graphic artist given the job just took the patchwork ready-made from some image library. Perhaps a lady just taken with patchwork, not interested in its content at all.

The scene around was livened up by a party of people much younger than ourselves, nearly all ladies. We decided that they were the staff of a neighbouring school who had just broken up. Probably Pound Lane but possibly South Park.

Plus a couple of regulars from the olden days, one of whom used to live in the house opposite us, many years ago now. While the other one was able to contribute to the discussion of washing lines, last noticed at reference 3.

Altogether a satisfactory warm up for the main business to follow.

PS 1: quite a lot of musical and other entertainments on offer. With the poster above covering the evening of the day in question.

PS 2: according to Littré, a goujon is French for a sort of small freshwater carp, probably what we would call a minnow. And to get someone to swallow one is to get them to swallow a porkie. Also a word for a short dowel made of wood or metal. I think Simenon talks about rural, riverine pub keepers netting them first thing in the morning to be served fried for lunch. A bit like our whitebait.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/03/trolley-500.html.

Reference 2: https://montfordestate.com.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/04/washing-line-day-three.html.