I stare at the open fridge, shaking my head at its beefy abundance. The immense joint looms over me, crowding the shelf, blocking the light. The other groceries look on resentfully.
I do not quite know whose idea it was to purchase so much beef for Valentine’s Day, especially since the LTLP is not eating much at the moment. I try to push past the beef to investigate lunch options, but it is stubborn and thwarts my progress. It is obstinate beef. I sigh, and make myself a beef sandwich.
The beef is still tasty and moist, as befits the best rib roasts. It is not as if I do not love beef sandwiches, but I have had a beef sandwich every day now since the year 47 b.c. and if I am not careful I will turn into a beef. The beef is lasting longer than a Robbie Williams medley although, to be fair, it displays fewer nervous tics.
I make my sandwich, liberally piling on the horseradish. I consider putting off the task of getting the beef back into the fridge, but I will have to do it sooner or later, so I wrap it back up in the foil and wrestle it into the scullery. The beef resists, but I eventually get it back on to the shelf and heave the fridge door shut with my shoulder, wedging a chair up against it until the bashing noises have ceased.
Returning to the kitchen, I place my sandwich upon a plate – one of the dainty floral ones that my Auntie Margery gave me. I catch sight of the car outside the kitchen window. I read somewhere that you could convert diesel engines to run on beef. (NB note to self it was either this or cooking oil, check before publishing).
If I could get the car to run on beef then that would solve quite a few problems, although I would have to be careful when driving further afield as there are not many butchers’ shops on the motorway network. (So far. It is new technology, and thus one of those paradoxes of supply and demand).
We would not have had to invade Iraq. Although Argentina would be an attractive target, again.
And Aberdeen would have its second oil boom. But with beef.
I should probably check whether it IS beef that you can convert your car to run on, and not cooking oil, before I get too excited. But the possibilities are awesome.
I eat my beef sandwich.