Bit of a pie: a version of the delicacy Lindsey saw fit to offer
I’ve been busy. I had a few houseguests last weekend. Alarming isn’t it? Me, the self-proclaimed social pariah, entertaining real live people. Whatever next?
It was a bit of a cultural melting pot to be honest. An Anglo/Scots/Irish/Pakistani love-in. All these incomers, with the exception of Kate (my sidekick and partner in mirth), met each other via Twitter. You can say what you like about social networking, but it brings nations together better than any Entente Cordiale ever did.
I hadn’t actually met two of the houseguests in real life before. Helen, from Ireland (well, Liverpool actually, but living in Ireland) whom in my head I’d decided was short and brunette and spoke with an Irish accent, turned out to be tall, lovely, blonde and a softly spoken Liverpudlian and great company to boot (and she brought lovely presents - heart-shaped bowls and star-shaped things for the frying of heart-shaped eggs) She can fairly put away the brandy though…sheesh. Also, she never wears make-up or has any waxing procedures carried out. She still manages to look amazing, whereas I spend half my salary on unguents and potions and painful appointments for defuzzing of my top lip, which inevitably end up with my sporting a top lip like the Bairn from the Broons for the next three days. Life’s no fair.
Once the initial nervous circling and preening settled down and we sussed each other out, much hilarity ensued. Shoes were tried on. Make-up was passed around and lusted after. Vodka was drunk. Cigarettes were smoked. Chatroulette was screeched and hooted at. Pies were eaten. (The Scotch Pies were my idea. Regular readers will know that I’m no stranger to a pie. I thought it might be nice to introduce my guests to our national dish.)
Unfortunately, not everyone could partake of the pie-fest. Tella (not her real name; a contraction of her Twitter name) can only eat Halal. I had purchased some of the finest Dumfries tattie scones though, so she didn’t miss out entirely on our national foodstuffs. I’m not sure that Tella was particularly bothered about “missing out” on the pie-fest upon being told of the provenance of the Scotch Pie filling.
Tella arrived off the train at Lockerbie all swishy-haired and fragrant. Kate and I hadn’t met her before, but we recognised her immediately. It’s amazing how much you can get to know someone through 140 character tweets. We were dazzled by this exotic creature with waist-length hair and legs up to her armpits. The illusion was shattered somewhat by her huge wonky wheeled suitcase which carved a deep groove into the station platform all the way to my car and then from the car to my house. At least she’d find her way back to the station without too much trouble. She might as well have laid a trail of crumbs.
She did kindly offer to cook us some authentic biryani while she was here. The making of the biryani apparently requires the procurement of huge pots. I thought I had a huge pot. Apparently not huge enough. Tella scoffed at my pots. She mocked them. My pots are, apparently, laughably small. We sent out for larger pots.
After much stirring and tasting, the Biryani was eventually served. It was amazing. Every mouthful yielded a different taste sensation – like a magical Willy Wonka Biryani.
I’m a bit of a lightweight, party wise. I was in bed by midnight. Everyone else turned out to be night owls. I couldn’t have cared less. I’m more of a morning person. I was awake before everyone else and was bored by 7am. Tella, clearly not an early riser, was oblivious to my overzealous hoovering of the same spot outside her bedroom door and didn’t rise till noon – after which she wafted around the house in fancy silk pyjamas (belted!) like a glamorous fifties movie star. Meanwhile I panicked over train times and fretted over how I would fit my busy sofa lounging schedule into what remained of my weekend.
And so the weekend came to a close and visitors were tearfully waved off on trains. This weekend it was business as usual. I still have biryani in my freezer if anybody fancies some? Apparently my pots would have been big enough after all. Hah!
