More evidence that Fran isn't the one doing the shopping

Further to this recent post about odd-coloured food I have more to report.

My husband brought THIS home.

Here is the conversation we had about it.

Me: What be this abomination, my master? Please remove it from my scullery or I will cave in your head with my chopping block.

Him: It be charcoal bread, my love.

Me: It can be charcoal, my master. Or it can be bread. It cannot be both of those things, or I am not a wench.

Him: Would your pretty mouth like a taste of it, my love? I will tear you off a piece and layer it with fresh butter from our dairy cow.

Me: I would like nothing less, master. In fact, I would rather eat my own ear wax than consider it.

Him: Then I will have to feast on it myself which I am pleased to do.

Me: From whence did you purchase it and how many pennies did it cost thee?

Him: It cost three hundred and fifty pennies, my dearest.

Me: THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY? Have you been eating of the mushrooms underneath the old elm, my master? Or quaffing from the secret hoard kept in the barrels in the barn?

Him: I have not, my love.

Me: Or perhaps, to have that much coin in thy belt, a-betting on the cockfights held by moonlight that you men think we wenches are ignorant of? Do we have coin left enough for meat? And for the baby to come that lays within my womb*, unaware that he or she will be born into a house of extravagance and to a father whose lust for strange and wonderful foodstuffs leads him into the devil's work?

Him: My love, I fear you protest too much. It is only a loaf of bread. Black as the night, I grant, but to me the taste is worth each penny.

Me: It has come between us, my master. The loaf has become a wedge between us, a barrier to our love, a boundary you have leapt across that hath spoiled our passion. I cannot live with a master who carries home such bread, touched by demons themselves until it is as black as sin. I think these are our last moments together. I will fold some clothing in a cloth bag and leave our cottage within the hour. I will set off across the lonely moors and -

Him: I also bought the strong cheese you love and feast on with joy. And warm buns with cinnamon and cloves and brown sugar. And clotted cream for the strawberries growing in the meadow.


Me: - across the lonely moors and over the - over the - Lead me to the buns.  

* Don't panic, anyone. Just my imagination running away with itself.


  1. Love this pastiche! . . . but we need an Epilogue from Ye Master telling us what charcoal bread actually tastes like. I'm curious!

    1. I did actually try a teeny weeny bit. With your eyes closed, you wouldn't know it wasn't just normal bread. So, er, what's the point, I ask!

    2. Anonymous20/6/18 17:43

      How many pennies for normal bread, wench?

    3. Half that, or less. In fact, he often makes our bread, and you can do that for about 50 pennies a loaf. Love, Wench.

  2. Replies
    1. I'm hoping you mean 'why eat that bread?' and not 'why are you complaining, wench?' ...

  3. LOL! Love it, including the footnote :)

    I was reading about the charcoal craze and how it's not helpful and can be harmful, whether Gwyneth Paltrow agrees or not (and that would be "not") ...!

    1. Oh, is it one of those celebrity food crazes? I'll tell Paul. It'll put him right off.

  4. I love this commentary, especially the "lead me to the buns"
    I'm wondering why you wouldn't taste the bread though? Or did you and was it nice?

    1. I had a tiny little bit. It tasted of nothing else but bread. I think it's just a gimmick.

    2. Black food colouring. People us it here to make black icing for cake decorating. Real charcoal wouldn't be good for the digestion I think, I've heard it's wat they make overdose patients drink in emergency rooms, or they pump it into the stomach to soak up the drugs which are then vomited out. Urk, Sorry.

  5. Brilliant ......reminded me of " Upstart Crow" !

  6. Thank you! I take that as a real compliment :)

  7. to it looks like something to scrape hard skin from feet !


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reasons why Fran is desperately in search of earbuds

Evidence that we don't always have the right words to say at the right time

Evidence of Fran's near-death experience