There's A Whiting Close Behind Me...

A funny sort of day...I've been trying to decipher the Will of a chap who died in the early 1500's...he'd apparently had a falling out with some of his family and had ignored them when he wrote out his Will...just in case you're interested, which you might not be in the least...Sovereign was written as Souaygne in 1546...who'd have thought.

He left 'strikes of whete' to the children he was still talking to and bridles to others...I suppose they were for riding horses rather than the oxen used for ploughing...

No mention of beds or bedclothes...

Which reminds me of a rather sad little story in someone's tree of an old man who had his bedding stolen, twice, during the American Revolutionary Wars...how mean was that!

With it being Good Friday our street has been very quiet...all the shops in town were closed of course, as were the off-licences, because you can't buy alcoholic drink on Good Friday anywhere...not even in a restaurant should you go out for a meal. No point trying to buy a hammer or nails either...I daresay the church in town will have been packed to the rafters with mass-goers at three o'clock...

The only place open for business would be Morelli's fish and chips and they'll be doing a roaring trade for the traditional Good Friday fish supper...

I bought some fish the other week which said it was 'fish'...read the packet and it still said it was 'fish'...coated in breadcrumbs and cook in the oven for fifteen minutes but what sort of fish is 'fish'...it tasted fine. Was probably an incredibly ugly sort of a cat fish perhaps, that you'd turn your nose up at if you saw it's picture.

Himself used to have tropical fish when we were in England...then he bought two baby Oscars...and they grew and grew and were enormous...they used to bash their heads on the lid of their tank and I said it was me or the Oscars...so he sold them to a bloke who took them away in our cool box and never brought it back.

Maybe he grilled them and had them on buttered toast.