It's all Greek to me
My mate never wore shoes. Not even in winter and that should have been enough of a clue for me to realise that he was a grade one nutter. A nutter indeed but I came to realise he was a nice nutter nonetheless.
He also looked like a tramp and most people thought he was really dirty as he wore the same clothes everyday - but they did not know that he actually owned 7 pairs of the same trousers (beige corduroy), seven shirts (small check lumberjack) and allied underwear (but no socks) in the same quantity and changed daily with a fastidious washing regime. His long white beard did give him an air of chaos but he did comb it daily - and I never once saw him eat any of the nits or bird's eggs he presumably found in it.
Anyway he invited me round for dinner one night and I was pleased to go - usually I had to feed him... and it was a sumptuous delight - a large dish of potatoes, some mixed in sausage meat, gravy with some added grated cheese. I was impressed and I scoffed all of my portion before asking what it was.
"Potato stavornus" he told me. "I learnt to make it while I was busking in the Greek islands. I got taught it by a buxom local wife."
I lost track of Ian after university - he went off abroad armed only with his flamenco guitar to find a wife - a woman who could keep *him* rather than he keep her and years later I did hear he had hooked up with someone in Hamburg who was happy to pay for both of them to go through life together with him not working - perhaps with Ian still cultivating small amounts of lichen on the top half of his shoeless toes to the horrow of more traditional people.
I thought of him often over the years - especially the night when I was looking for something nice to eat in a cookbook of Scottish recipies and found the picture of the potato stovies he had served me that night so long ago in a book with his name neatly inscribed on the first blank page to denote ownership.
Greek delicacy my ass: for years I realised I'd been telling people intending to go off exploring to those parts to look out for the wonderful sausage and mash based delights that they could sample and how they should eat such a traditional dish before it disappeared thanks to the globalisation of fast food.
I miss you Ian. You were a lying cunt though.
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 17:53, Reply)