my folk's chew rules

What a fabulous waste of a day.

Murray and I have been getting along ok. I don't bother him and he tries not to bother me too much. My colleagues have been most forthcoming with their tea making duties which I am very much appreciative of. Bob especially has made at least 4 or 5 rounds of drinks today.

What joy life can be when one is drinking vast amounts of tea, having extremely long pisses, a Tamarillo's sandwich and making peace with my tumor. Huzzar.

To be honest not a great deal has happened since I wrote yesterday- which is just the way i like it. My only gripe would be the difficulties I have recently experienced eating. Of course I don't mean the quality of food or the manner in which I hold my knife and fork, rather I appear to have done some serious damage to the roof of my mouth. I have thought at great length as to what may have caused this irritation and I have arrived at the conclusion that the culprit was yesterday morning's porridge. I'm sure I have a blister of some sort.

My injuries were so severe that last night for my tea I could only manage a bowl of Super Noodles, which I left until they were nearly cold and a slice of bread. Surely this dietary disaster highlights the amount I have suffered. Lisa of course was as sympathetic as ever. Her retort when I explained my ailments was "It serves you right".

Let it please be known that Lisa did in fact make me the noodles so she wasn't being heartless, it's just that she has often lambasted me for the speed in which I eat. I have always been a fast eater though, and I blame my current physical condition to my lack of chewing foot properly. A quick masticator I think she called me...

I can clearly remember my folks try to get me to eat slower as I would often wolf my food and alarming speeds. This at first was out of survival as soon as I had finished I could make a start on eating Lucy's food before Adam had finished his meal. To prevent this eating sprint they took the time and patience to ensure that I put my knife and fork down between each mouthful, counting the amount of chews they deem appropriate and instructing me when to swallow. Sometimes I follow these rules when I realise that I am eating like a pig, although if I'm being honest, I don't adhere to them very often. Usually when I think a heart attack is around the corner.

Lisa on the other hand is an incredibly slow eater, and of course this only highlights my food consumption speed. I often look up whilst shoveling down my food to inspect her plate. Most times I'm almost done and she has hardly made a start! It's at these points I try to refer to my folk's chew rules.

When in the company of others, or for the most parts, when I'm eating out, I seem to slip into a more adequate and less nauseating eating tempo. This is partly due to the impeccable table manners installed in me and partly due to the conversation and drinking. Most times when we eat at home it is usually in front of the television and I think this hinders any chance of eating slower. It's possibly why my parents also insisted that we ate at the table with the TV off, with the following exceptions:

Grand Prix,
Spurs/England Games,
The Simpsons
And for a short period in the late eighties- when Neighbours was on.

My enthusiastic approach to eating was actually complemented whilst dining in Marantos recently by the hairy Italian waiter. After we had devoured the food and wine in just over an hour he came over and asked if I ate out a lot.
As this was an odd thing to say, I thought that I had misheard him and asked him politely if he could repeat his question.
He asked the same question again.

I was confused and Lisa, embarrassed by my confusion and awkwardness translated for me: DO - YOU- E-A-T OUT O-F-T-E-N?

"Erm, a bit i suppose, not that much. Why?" I replied.

"Its the way you eat your spaghetti and pour your wine, you obviously know what you're doing. It's -a- good to see."
He went on to state that lots of people pretend they know what they're doing and clearly don't. Slightly embarrassed and a tad miffed, I just mumbled "erm, I was just hungry" -which I was.

Lisa thought it to be a compliment, however i took it as a rough translation for:

"Mama Mia, you eat like a big fat Italian, you greedy bastardo."
The fact is I've always been an excellent spaghetti eater, having been taught my folks at an early age. Granted, I'm not the spaghetti eater that I was, due to my vegetarian exile and the breaking of my front tooth. I've also always managed to put quite a lot of it away too- "hallow legs" my grandparents would say. Also Marantos isn't exactly the Savoy is it. It is nice but heavily laden with scallies. I suppose it means that I'm marginally better than they are and I should perhaps have taken it as a compliment, but decided not to, and the big mealy mouthed fat waiter lost his tip. Now who's laughing eh?