I can see your camping trips will be fun, all stories round the campfire confined to mono-sylables, or single sentences.
It was unfair to bring up "Breville The Soul of What"
For those who do not know what a Breville is, it is a device for cooking fish. here is a picture of one.
My other daughter had a pet sole that she called "Soul of What" this was because she loved it , and not just any sort of love, but obsessively, every morning she fed it, and every night she told it bedtime stories. She only ever drew pictures in school of one thing, yep you guessed it was "Soul of What" She composed three overtures for Soul of What, one was called "Oh flounder of mine, you are my very bestest friend for ever and ever overture"
I pointed out that this may be an illegally long title for an overture, as expressed by an as yet unamed English writer/humourist that is oft quoted, but she just said "dad you know you cannot just quote willy nilly, unless you can name the source of the quote"
Rubella (thats her name) is so clever for a seven year old, and so persistant, I just had to let the title of her overture to Soul of What stand, as I could not name the english humourist/writer who made the unsubstantiated claims over amounts of words used in creating witicisms.
That said, we now move onto the traumatic incident that caused The Soul of What to chance upon the Breville.
It was a very hard cold winter, even the corvids were huddled together in bunches in the back of my car, to say it was bleak would be an understatemnet.
The electricity had been cut off, we had no central heating, and the only way we could power the generator was to squeeze the oil from the last 16 halibuts we possesed to run it.
The generator supplied electric to the house,which included the Breville in the kitchen.
Rubella had left Soul of What asleep in its casserole dish on the kitchen worktop when she went to school,next to it she had left a home made birthday card that read "Happy 11th Birthday Soul of What, I love you more than I love mummy and daddy, because you dont swear at me as much"
Rubella had put on extra bright red nail polish to celebrate soul of whats birthday.
The breville had been switched on to fry our last two slices of stale bread that we were going to have with some bird seed that we found in the bird feeder.
I can honestly say that I have no Idea just why we decided to weigh Soul of what on the kitchen scales, it's so traumatic a memory now that the incident is shrouded in a sort of mist.
Suffice to say we were just in the process of weighing soul of what on the scales, when either mrs Rossy OR me, dropped the biggest weight of 2kilos on the other side of the scales.
This actually catapulted soul of what directly into the breville, splashing hot fat onto the dogs genitals, and then all Hades broke loose.
In that horrific instant,double jeopardy came into play, what to do, what to do? Do we attend to Soul of what OR the dog?
A cursory glance of the dog indicated that he was attending to his burns in the correct manner, by applying copious amounts of water, saliva dripping from his tongue, but then again he always does that, panic, panic, but what of soul of what? panic, panic...
The sizzeling noise from the Breville combined with the sheer height of the boiling oil,left no doubt at all, it was just too late for Soul of what, even though we have some cream for burns from the chemist, it was concurred that this wasn't going to help in this instance.
We switched the Breville off, and fished out soul of what, and placed The Brevilled Soul of what on a plate.
We both agreed that Brevilled is the soul of what.
which Is I must agree very close to what Polonius said in Hamlet. From Shakespeare's Hamlet, 1602:
LORD POLONIUS
This business is well ended.
My liege, and madam, to expostulate
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief: your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
But let that go.
Of course we had to insert a terrapin into the caserole dish so as to fool Rubella when she returned from School.
We convinced her that This is what happens to sole on their 11th birthday, and she believed it, she has called the terrapin "Souly terrapin of what" and she loves it.
Here is a picture of what Soul of What looked like PRE-Breville.