'Food for thought....and so forth and such like'

It is a blustery day, out in the garden the hairs on the boy Bings back, are blowing like small feathers, and the ‘hooter’ of renown is vertical and sniffing like a good’un. Naturally it’s a day that hounds find particularly invigorating, as sounds and scents arrive up the mighty snozzle from here, there and just about everywhere. This means the lad’s brain is working overtime, noting each smell and cataloguing what each one is.

At such a time I find it useful to let the boy enjoy this ‘joy’ for frankly no sensible conversation can be had whilst the ‘hooter’ is thus occupied!

The whole operation is quite interesting to watch, for the keen observer will note that quite often the tip of the lads tongue is poked out, as if the need to ‘taste’ the scent is also required.

Occasionally, this performance is halted, when the lad spots a nosy squirrel observing him, or pigeon, or largish bird wanders across the lawn behaving as if the grass is their property. The birds receive a deep ‘woof’ and a trundle in their general direction if the ‘woof’ is unheeded. Squirrels of course just carry on looking and twitching their noses and flicking their tails. At this point Bing will choose to ignore them by turning his back and continuing with his sniffing, or as he is want to call it ‘hootering the environs!’

In the kitchen I’m putting together a spot of lunch, each opening of the fridge door or cupboard, is picked up by the lads ‘earflaps’ and my progress duly noted. The scrape of a chair leg, will alert Bing that it is time to investigate the fare on the table.

This is usually done by casually sauntering in and looking mildly surprised that it is lunchtime already. Of course if the smells received are those of strong cheeses, or let us say ham, then his ability to look nonchalant is severely tested. For the lad, the ‘King’ of cheeses is a ‘honking’ piece of Roquefort or ripe Brie, and dare one admit, for such a ‘bon vivre,’ the delicate flavour of a Dairylea triangle. This latter delight is used for disguising any pills the lad has been prescribed. (Just between you and I, the boy Bing is ignorant of such matters, and shall remain so. The prospect of making him ‘take his medicine’ is impossible to comprehend, but for Mr Krafts, delightful invention!)

‘Ah is it lunchtime already guv?’

‘Yup.’

The eyes and hooter are observing me from the other side of the table. Ears are pricked and head leans first one way and then the other, as a cracker loaded with cheese makes its way to my mouth.

‘Um….any chance of a spot of lunch for a certain chap that is waiting everso patiently over here?’

I start loading up another bit of cracker, whilst appearing to be interested in a magazine next to me.

‘It’s quite extraordinary guv, did you know that long, long ago….’

I continue to look interested in an article about the correct way to make ones eyes up!

‘Yes, long, long ago….so long ago that you were but a lad….’

I am not going to be lured into conversation with Bing. I know, somehow he will con me into parting with nosh.

‘Certain King’s, Emperors and many a Po….po…pote……..’

‘Potentate?’

‘That’s the geezer guv, lived in the fear of being poisoned by their beloved subjects.’

‘M’mmm.’ 

I try to look interested in an advert for improving my skin
and lifting any bags that may have formed under my eyes.

‘So guv…..’

(You have to admire the lads perseverance.)

‘They employed folk who’d have a taster of their guvs nosh, risking life and limb, thus ensuring the fare wasn’t poisoned and the long life of said noble gaffer!’

It’s no good the lad has got my attention, but I resolve to remain strong.

‘So Bing, just how did you acquire this extraordinary info?’

‘Well old poop, we don’t all watch sport, comedy and endless repeats of Midsummer Murders.’

‘Oh I say, that’s not fair.’

‘Well I only speak as I find guv.’

‘All this still doesn’t answer the question Bing.’

‘Oh it was on one of the History type channels, I find ‘em mighty interesting.’

‘Really?’

‘Very, very….um very inter…….should I not just have a taster of that latest succulent morsel guv, just in case?’

My eyes narrow, for once I have the higher moral ground.

‘And who would it be Bingo that would be attempting to poison this particularly minor potentate?’

‘Ah, there you have me guv. I am but a humble food taster-in-waiting, and not privy to such matters. Not for me the corridors of power, not for me the machinations of would-be power seekers or pretenders to the throne….no, not for this lad the glory that was Rome etc,etc.,’

‘I see.’

‘No, I’m merely available to risk life and limb so that certain old puffers can nosh safely.’

‘Well….?’

The lad suddenly appears my side of the table, and gives me a most winsome look.

‘What about a snack or….’

‘Three guv?’

‘Well……?’

‘You know it makes sense, besides all this chat has left me a tad peckish!’

The snacks are unloaded from their tin…and then it occurs to me.

‘Perhaps Bing it would be apposite that I should test ‘em, for it would not do for me to be the chap that ended the career of one such as you?’

‘Cor, you don’t half talk a load of twaddle guv, now hand ‘em over or I shall be forced to bounce you!’

‘Oh I say…..’

Call me slow, and doubtless you will, but it was a full ten minutes before I remembered it was Bing who had bought up the whole subject of food testing! By then it was too late, he not only had had the better of me (once again) but was now busy rolling in a sun filled spot, prior to a quick ‘forty wags!’