Robin Alexander Gregory's Blog, page 11
February 14, 2018
Dez Gouts
Dez Gouts
…An amusing tale of two cultures or how not to order French fries!
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a fantastic burger bar in the centre of Bristol, called Mickey Finns. I’m not sure if it is still there today, but back then for a young lad out on the town, it was an essential stopping off point for any big night out.
One evening on the way to a gig – that’s a live music concert for those not in the know – I decided to drop into Mickey Finns for some French fries. What should have been a relatively simple process: ordering said French fries to take away, rapidly turned into a complete farce.
“Large fries, please,” said I, in my thick West Country accent to the young girl standing behind the counter.
“Edin or Dez Gouts?” she replied, in a very non-West Country accent.
Edin or Dez Gouts. What could she possibly mean by this strange reply, I thought, as I wracked my brain for a suitable response. I was by no means an amateur when it came to ordering takeaway’s, but never before had I been faced with such a choice. In the end, I opted for the very British reply: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.”
“Edin or Dez Gouts?” she said again, this time a little louder and with more emphasis on each word. Despite this approach, which is often used by the English when abroad, on home ground it failed completely and I still had no idea what I was being asked.
Fixing her with what I thought was my most sympathetic look, I replied: “What do you mean? I have no idea what you are asking me.”
“Edin or Dez Gouts?” came the reply, this time with more than a touch of frustration on her part.
Standing there in the middle of Mickey Finns, with a growing crowd of customers now piling up behind me, I started to panic. What were these strange new words I was being accosted with and why hadn’t I heard them before? Could Dez Gouts be a new type of condiment or gherkin that I was being offered? What if I gave her the wrong answer? Would I end up with something other than French fries, which is all that I really wanted? Okay, so a bit of mayonnaise on the top wouldn’t have gone amiss, but that was all. I was pretty certain that I didn’t want any Dez Gouts added to my order.
In desperation, I said: “Mayonnaise?” in the hope that it would settle the matter, but unfortunately, it only made things worse.
“Edin or Dez Gouts!” came the response from the now irate girl behind the counter.
“I don’t know! I don’t know what Dez Gouts are!” I cried in desperation and for a few brief moments, we faced the very real possibility of us being locked in an endless cycle of ‘Dez Gouts’ and ‘Don’t knows’ for the rest of time.
Then there was a gentle tap on my shoulder and some kindly soul standing behind me said in a reassuringly meaty Bristolian accent: “Eat in or take out?”
Suddenly, the fog of uncertainty in my brain vanished. Eat in or take out? Could it really have been as simple a misunderstanding as all that? Bright red with shame, I seem to recall uttering the words ‘take out, please’ to the exasperated girl, who fixed me with a withering stare, before taking my money and shouting the order back into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the bag of greatly contested French fries appeared on the counter, which I grabbed before racing out into the street, never to be seen in Mickey Finn’s again.
These days, I can’t remember which gig I was going to see that night and I don’t think I really enjoyed my French fries very much because we both forgot about the mayonnaise, but I’ll always remember the strange girl in Mickey Finns asking me about Dez Gouts!
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February 12, 2018
How to load a digger on a truck
Amazing Thailand!
…Number one in an occasional series…
Welcome to ‘Amazing Thailand’. Over the years, I have collected quite a few pictures of what really makes this unique, South East Asian country so wonderful and now I’m pleased to be able to share some of them with you via this blog.
Today’s example, ‘How to load a digger on a truck’ just goes to show that you don’t need any cumbersome ‘Health & Safety’ legislation (despite what the sign in the photo says) or even a ramp for that matter. What you do need is the kind of ‘can do’ attitude that is also known as sheer bloody-mindedness… as well as a really big digger, a lorry and probably, a few stiff drinks beforehand!
I wish that I’d taken a video of this because the noise of the digger trying to, quite literally, mount the flatbed truck was astounding, not to mention extremely noisy.
Stay tuned for more in the ‘Amazing Thailand’ series soon.
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February 9, 2018
A new word for you…
A new word for you…
… or how ‘Halfaholic’ came into the world.
Somewhere, high in one of the ancient, ivory towers of Oxford University, hidden far from prying eyes, sits a group of wizened academics, whose job it is to create new words for the English language. As they slavishly pore over their little wicker baskets of consonants and vowels, carefully weighing up the precise value of each letter that they may or may not use, there is another group of individuals, usually found lounging around in pubs or bars, that also comes up with new words. And while those of the academics are arguably far more precise and beautifully crafted, the latter group beats them hands down when it comes to sheer output. ‘Halfaholic’ was one such word and this is its story…
It was a few months ago now and several of my bookish friends, not to mention a couple of others who have long since learned to tune out when the conversation turns literary, were enjoying an evening in the bar. The conversation was good and an undisclosed number of alcoholic beverages had been consumed. As a result, the group was rapidly approaching the point in the evening where time takes on an altogether elastic quality and before you know it, the sun is coming up and the table in front of you looks like a glass recycling factory.
Anyway, one of our group, a noted writer and editor, having had ‘one more for the road’ several times in a row, decided to make a run for the doors before the witching hour befell us and complete chaos descended. As he wobbled towards the exit, he commented that he should probably stop drinking for the night because the way that he was going he was at risk of becoming an alcoholic.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than I said something like: “Well, I’m going to carry on because I’m only a halfaholic after all.” I have no idea where it came from, the word just leapt into my beer-addled brain from a place beyond normal time and space. But, like all words, once it was spoken, it couldn’t be taken back and now existed here in our world. The look on my friend’s face said it all, as he tried the new word out for size, smiling as he did so, enjoying its texture and the image that it created in his mind. Then without so much as a ‘by your leave’, he took the word with him and left the bar.
Since then, the word has been happily propagating itself all over the city and you know what, I don’t really mind at all, because it isn’t a bad word, it’s just new and wants to get some recognition. And every now and then, it even comes back to the bar to be spoken by someone completely new, or by my friend, who still loves it dearly.
So, whether you’re an Oxford academic who has had a couple of heavy nights in a row, or just a regular Joe who’s worried about having yet another ‘one for the road’, never fear, there’s a word for you and it’s a good word. You can tell the world with pride that you’re not an alcoholic, you’re a halfaholic instead!
*****
I’ve since found out that Halfaholic is also the name of a clothing company, as well as a Hip-Hop band, which just goes to show that some words will find any which way they can to get out of the ether and into the real world!
Glass photo – Edan Cohen, Unsplash.com
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