Crisps, and almond rocks

Sock it to me

Not earth-shattering.

Not even small lump of semi-congealed mud that was going to shatter under its own insubstantiality in any case shattering.

But it means a lot to me.

Or it may do...

I've found, buried deep in the depths (all five and a half inches of them) of the second drawer down under the top bit of the wardrobe (I'm sure there's a catchier name in cabinet-making circles) the other favourite cricket sock.

That's right, the woolly ones with the cushioned heels and soles and the extra-wide top bits and...okay, enough sock-enthusiasm. I'm putting it on in any case.

Why is it only may do?

Because, although finding the one you thought you'd lost is a good thing, it can flip, suddenly and catastrophically, in “good news and bad news” joke fashion, if you then find that the sock you thought you knew the location of has been moved or (worse still) disposed of.

So, any minute now, I'll go to the garage to get loaded up for cricket, and either sock one (or two, who knows) will either be waiting there, to be reunited with sock two (or one – who knows) like those long-lost sisters meeting up in their eighties having been separated during the WWII evacuation or something, or there'll be the return or resurrection of a forgotten (missing, presumed dead) problem.

Look, I know how you feel...

...I'm awful with suspense, too. So...

I opened the garage door, and there was the other sock, where I left it, hanging over a sheet of hardboard.

I'm considering starting a Socks Reunited website.

Walkers Crisps

Those new flavours. We did a blind tasting thing. On the vegetarian options: hot dog and tomato sauce (I know); Ranch Racoon (I know, why not just cut to the chase and go for Roadkill Barbecue next year?); and cheesy beans on toast.

Unsurprisingly DLL and BLISS didn't guess any correctly.

They did manage to get some pretty vivid descriptions in, though. Apart from all being too sweet, and particularly the cheesy beans being absolutely sickly, there was a rotting flesh, a they must be joking, and a “is this bottom of the kitchen bin, when it's not been emptied for a few days?”.

The meathead ones are no better. The pulled pork is just way too sweet, the sizzling steak fajita is just way way inferior to the old Bovril flavour (and the new Marmite flavour) and way inferior to good old beef flavour, and the chip shop chicken curry is a great opportunity missed. Chips and a pot of curry sauce are genius, so how can you miss the target so badly with a spud based, curry sauce flavoured product?

It's time for the Liverpool supper flavour: double fishcake, chips, and curry sauce. A culinary classic for the wee small hours after a skinfull.