Catch-up on Cola, the glories of popcorn, turnips vs swedes and pickles.

[hamster8 at hotmail.com]

Heidi said ...

"When I was little, on Saturdays, mom would sleep in.  I'd get up, 
sneak out to the kitchen, and find leftover popcorn (old-style: oil 
and kernels in a pot popped until the lid moves off) and half-filled 
pop (RC) in glasses on the drainboard (another of those pop-cola-soda 
questions?  Why do some call it drainboard, others countertop?), and 
I'd reach out my arm and drink the warm, flat stuff and eat the 
popcorn!"

As we're onto childhood foods, pop and weird drinks, does anyone know 
of Panda Pop?  I think they're a British company, and as far as I 
know are still in business.  These are drinks which defy the concept 
of natural ingredients.  Ghastly, artificial flavours, lurid colours 
and enough sugar to keep a small child bouncing off the wall for 
hours on end.  When I was in the Cubs about ten years ago, we used to 
guzzle the stuff, owing to the fact that the Group Leaders (when they 
had to provide packed lunches for us) were buying on the cheap in 
order to feed a pack of around 30-35 boys.  There is a large area of 
woodland nearby (about ten minutes by car) called Oxshott Heath, and 
we used to head on out there and play wide games (two teams, 
different colours, catch the other colour) which were brilliant fun.  
And we would always have Panda Pop afterwards, which, as I said, 
contained so much sugar that nobody wanted to stop playing.

The only popcorn you really get here is dreary, cinemabound stuff.  I 
notice the difference - the two times I've been Stateside (well, once 
to Canada, once to the US) the popcorn was a million times better, 
and that was staying with family friends in Etobicoke (Toronto), who 
last summer whipped up the best popcorn I ever tasted in a couple of 
minutes.

I can't think of anything else to say.

Oh ... Neil, turnips and swedes are completely different vegetables.  
I agree that Branston's is pretty dire.  But then my Grandmother 
still makes enough chutneys and pickles every autumn to feed a small 
army, so we don't want for brand names in our house (got into market 
gardening during rationing in the War, and just never stopped 
afterwards).  Just to put the sheer volumes here in practice, I found 
last week buried in the back of a cupboard a jar of blackcurrant jam 
with a sticker on top reading September 1988.  Needless to say, we 
threw it away unopened.

Al
*where schnoogling happens a lot, and we think Nancy Stouffer is hot*