Saturday May 18th 2013
I thought a Squab was a life form of the sea, that
lived in the colder depths where it grew to great size while it pondered
the meaning of darkness and the poor dear had suddenly become
fashionable amongst the 'eating-out' crowd now that Swordfish and
Snapper are in terrible decline.
To discover that a Squab is a nestling
domestic Pigeon, that's not yet left the care of it's parent, and can
do not much better than flutter, has sent me into a decline, awakened the
certain knowledge that so long as I trudge this earth, I'll never again open
a cook book.