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Someday My Prints Will Come

I don't know about you (well, obviously I don't, I'm not even sure who you are) but Amazon and their associates have the happy ...

Monday, 1 July 2013

A Kick at the Pantry Door

The new compilation of 'nostalgedy' stories has been published today!

Welcome to the 'A Kick at the Pantry Door' restaurant. We have your favourite table ready and waiting and a selection of tasty and unusual dishes for your delectation and delight (but do bear in mind that the kitchen closes shortly as the Chef needs to go to his second job, rodding out blocked sewers). We have a few choice 'nostalgedy' stories for Starters, some meatier ones for your Mains, a selection of 'curmudgeonly rants' or keen observations (you take your choice) for Dessert, and something unspeakable to go with your Coffee and Mints.
Philip Whiteland tickles your fancy (it's not a crime yet) once again with this compilation of stories, often with a food-based theme, from today and yesterday. Pull up a chair and tuck in!
Available at all Kindle stores:  A Kick at the Pantry Door - see the book

Here's a little nibble at one of the Starters:

"This is going to be one of those stories that rambles around a bit.  The reason for this is that my mind went on a sort of Wainwright's Walks of its own when I was considering what to write.  Therefore, I thought that it was only fair to drag you along on this mental march, so that you could see where I'm coming from… or, possibly, going to.

The original intention was to write about childhood eating habits and oddities, and it still may finish up there, so if that subject happens to be your abiding passion, stick with me, but it could be a bumpy ride.

You see, whilst thinking about what odd things I used to eat as a child, I suddenly remembered dog biscuits.  Now, before I go any further I would like to (a) exonerate my parents on the grounds that at no time did they ever feed me dog biscuits and (b) say that the following was not my idea, nor was it my fault, and the author takes no responsibility for any injury or ailment that may be caused by any attempt to replicate these scenes.

My childhood friend, in my pre-school and early school years, was Elaine, who intermittently came to stay with her grandparents who lived two doors away on the corner of Cambridge Street and Anglesey Road.  By bending down and peering under both our hedge, and that of Lizzie's next door, I could just about make out whether Elaine was in residence and in her garden.  If that was the case, then in all likelihood I would finish up spending time in her garden as she had more interesting things to play with, and more room.  It was she who introduced me to the delights (or otherwise) of dog biscuits.  Her grandparents had a dog, a Border Collie-type if memory serves me correctly, that lived in an outdoor kennel and which had all of its food stored in the shed alongside.  Hanging out in the shed was a perennial pastime for us and we were inevitably tempted to sample the dog's biscuits in their various sacks.  After all, if the dog could eat them, presumably so could we.  Elaine claimed to have done this on many occasions before, but I'm not sure whether that was just bravado, although she did have good teeth, and a glossy coat (sorry, sorry).  We started small, with the occasional nibble of Terrier Meal (not recommended) but it wasn't long before we were onto the hard stuff, in the form of Bonio (not bad but a little bit more of it than you would really want) and Vims, whose pink colour and triangular shape made them irresistible even though your taste buds kept telling you that you must be joking.  Oddly enough, I often have a particular type of crispbread nowadays in a pathetic attempt to con myself that I'm a healthy eater, and every time I'm reminded of the texture and flavour of Bonio, perhaps we were ahead of our time...."