*places an orange just outside a fairy ring to see what comes out* science is more of an art than a science
*the orange grows legs and skitters away*
Fascinating results *places a banana in the same spot*
*clawed hand reaches out of the ether and drags it into the ring, leaving ragged claw marks in the soil as it disappears, back into the ether from whence it came*
“let’s go to the extreme.” *places a pineapple in the same spot*
Real scientists would keep putting an orange in the same spot to make sure the results are consistent before moving on to other fruits or different spots.
The only valid response to this post.
We’re working up the complexity levels of fruit until we feel there is enough evidence to support the judicious placement of a volunteer twink
You sit down, we haven’t seen what’s happened to the pineapple
This is Tumblr; we’ve ALL seen what happened to the pineapple. O_O
Happy lunar landing day! I decided to spend some time baking and make a cake to celebrate! :)
It’s half vanilla and half chocolate cake with homemade buttercream and homemade wineberry jam in the middle- all the components I tasted along the way were delicious, so I’m looking forward to eating it tonight. (I’ll reblog this with more pictures later)
Phrase taken from this post by @bunjywunjy tis a wonderful image and Ive laughed every time I saw it today, so I put it on a cake :))
We had one of Steff’s comedian friends staying with us on the weekend, lovely lad called Sam from Singapore. He had never been to Wales before, and he requested that we take him to a Welsh restaurant so he could try Welsh food
That’s surprisingly difficult, actually. Like a lot of Welsh culture, our culinary traditions have not exactly been applauded over the years, so you don’t really see them. But a lucky Google search revealed a brand new one has just opened in SA1 called the Welsh House, so great! Away we went.
Fuck me, they went all in.
It wasn’t just the menu (though fuck me, what a menu - one of their ‘for the table to share’ options was little mini leek and cheddar Welsh cakes with salted butter and they were paralysingly good). It wasn’t just that every alcohol was Welsh, even including the wine (surprisingly good btw, called 'Naturiol’.)
The table centerpieces were daffodils. All signs for the toilets were Welsh only. The walls had photos of Wales, modern and historical; the windows had the fleur de lis; the specials board (pork belly in Welsh cider and damson sauce with honey and wild garlic glazed carrots) had dragons on. I realise this is probably normal for country-themed restaurants, but I’ve never been to one for Wales before.
But the best bit, see, was the music
I clocked, when we walked in, that they were playing If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next by the Manic Street Preachers (you always clock the Manics). Ah, I thought. A Welsh song! In a Welsh restaurant! Ho ho ho.
As they seated us, it became What’s New Pussycat. Ah! I thought. Another Welsh song! Fu fu fu.
Then they played Monster by the Automatic and I was like my god are they only playing Welsh music?? That’s so cool! What an eclectic mix that’s going to be. We should suggest to them they should look into Welsh language music too, really mix it up.
And then they played Anrheoli by Yws Gwynedd and lads, Steff and I lost our shit. We lost our fucking shit. Sam’s sitting there, utterly bewildered. The staff are nervously edging away from us. We don’t care. It’s the first time I have ever heard a Welsh language song played outside of a Welsh language setting. We’re so excited.
“They’re playing Welsh music!!!” says Steff. “Holy shit!!!”
“Imagine if they played Sebona Fi!” I say, humorously.
“Nah,” says Steff. “You can’t in a restaurant. There’d be a riot, it’s faerie music.”
“…what?” says Sam
We explain the cultural phenomenon that is Sebona Fi. The song changes: Primadonna Girl, by Marina and the Diamonds.
“She’s Welsh??” says Sam.
“She’s from Abergavenny!” we beam.
“I don’t know what that means,” nods Sam, who is from Singapore.
Next: The Bartender and the Thief, by the Stereophonics. We’re in high spirits. The extraordinarily Welsh wine arrives, as does the rarebit on sourdough starter. Sam, a gay man, delightedly orders the faggots and peas.
They play Ben Rhys by Gwilym Bowen Rhys, and we lose our shit again. Sam is now used to this, because comedians are adaptable. “They even have daffodils!” I say, misty eyed. “Is that relevant?” Sam asks, fascinated.
They play Hiraeth, by PLU. Hard to explain that one. Very hard to explain the effect it has when it’s played in a restaurant, but Sam looks around the suddenly muted room and whispers “Are we in church?”
“It’s about Hiraeth,” whispers Steff. “So kind of.”
Next: the Masses Against the Classes, by the Manics. Utter tonal whiplash. This playlist is not remotely restaurant appropriate. It’s perfect.
“You’d think they’d pick like… a genre,” Sam says dreamily. “We just went from church to the barricades.”
The faggots arrive. “I forgot it would be a western sized portion,” Sam says morosely, of what to me is a normal sized plate of food. He tries one, and brightens.
