Teenage shoes and fish…

And throw in some rape fields in all their yellow splendour to make me happy.
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Coming back from my Belgian trip on wednesday, I had a few stops on the way up. One in Rye at my friend Jane’s house. With her two teenage daughters, true fashionista’s who go with the latest of latest fashion trends. They have taste.
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I wanted Fern her shoes all for myself!
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Alfie, the ruler of the roost, wanted his human all to himself…
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And I wanted scallops for myself. It’s entirely believable that I passed this sign that read scallops caught by their own boat. The last five words of that sentence being key.
It gave me an impression of fishing men knowing what to do, doing it and us having the joys of the fruits of the sea. Sort of a Deadliest Catch on the Channel. Not quiet like the Bering sea, but close enough…
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Buying from local fishermen also silences my guilt, big chains often take the cream of the profit away from fishing, this little store takes the money where it belongs: to the owner of the boat.
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A little chatter in the store. They think I am American. Because of my twang. Correction is needed. I’m not American, I’m Belgian. My english sounds more and more like american though. After ten years in UK, I still don’t really sound like a true Brit. Hah.
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I have a bit of fun in the store, fishes neatly spread out in rows. It is a pity that we eat them. Our world still existing as eat or be eaten.
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I have no idea what kind of fish the red one is, snapper? Bream?
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It does not really matter because I am not a true fish eating person. I love flat fish, plaice and consorts, with prices rocketing skyhigh out of my league. The rest of the grey and red sea miracles do not appeal.
It’s a day for scallops. I order eight of them, and hit the road with my fishy diamonds.
I am totally ready for a drive underneath the Thames, the tunnel is far better then Betties Bridge. Going south is over the Bridge though, going north is the tunnel.
I will be enveloped in a bit of darkness, and at the end there will be light.
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3 Hours more to go before I am home.
3 More hours of Mariachi to listen to.
Life is good.

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