Wednesday December 6, 2006
Let’s start by offering a salute to those online bloggers, journallers and diarists who are taking part in the annual Holidailies challenge. This is where the participants make best efforts to publish at least one entry a day from December 1 right the way through to January 1.
If you’re used to producing an entry most days this isn’t much of a challenge. If you’re more a two or three entries a month kind of journaller then I think the extra effort should be recognised. It ain’t easy if you’re not used to it. Salutations, guys.
My challenge of the day has been more of a problem of the gastronomic kind. Like, how do I bite a …, and, which teeth do you use to chew …? They warned me it’d take time to get used to my new teeth, and they were right.
Oh, it’s not so bad. The denture hasn’t slipped once, not even when tackling a croissant—who’d have thought that chewing a croissant would present such a challenge? Now more than ever I think I know why the Continentals developed the custom of dunking their croissants in their coffee.
Lunch was fine—sandwiches are easier, in fact. Dinner was fine, too. I’d opted for white plaice poached in a white wine sauce with water cress, mashed potatoes and peas. I managed that with no problem except to know when precisely to stop chewing a mouthful of peas.
Indeed, Graham complimented me on managing my meal without fuss or undue delay, saying that if he didn’t know he’d not have guessed I was working with new and unfamiliar chewing gear.
The thing that almost beat me was the last one I’d have expected. Plum yoghurt.
“What on earth is the matter?” Graham asked. “You look as though you’re eating seven-day-old road-kill.”
“It’s this yoghurt. It’s got bits in it.”
“Of course it’s got bits in it. They’re pieces of plum. That’s why they call it plum yoghurt. Just swallow them, for goodness sake.”
“That’s all very well for you to say. I’m accustomed to testing before I swallow, and I can’t judge the size of these pieces. There has to be a way but I haven’t found it yet.”
“You could mash ’em up in the dish with your dessert fork.”
“Nope. I’m going to beat this without resorting to extraordinary measures, see if I don’t. If I can migrate successfully from a cordless mouse to the touchpad on my laptop I can handle a few minor eating challenges. Darned if I’m going to be beaten by a bowlful of yoghurt.”
“Well, just try not to make such an awful face while you’re doing it.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He’d finished and was stacking the pots and pans in the dishwasher before I solved my little problem by rolling the pieces of plum between my tongue and the inside of my bottom teeth. Works a treat.
“Finished?” Graham asked.
“Yup,” I said, handing him my dish. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.”