Inauthentic Merguez

Last night Martin cooked some merguez sausages that he'd bought from Clive Ramsay's nice-but-expensive delicatessen in Bridge of Allen, together with a few slices of haloumi cheese, the final stub of an organic black pudding from the farmers' market, some jersey royal new potatoes and some English asparagus wrapped in very thin smoked ham from Germany. They ate some green salad too (nein danke! As a cat, I can't say I'm fond of vinegar in salad dressing, though I don't mind the oil). It sounds a lot, but there wasn't much of any single thing. Martin said that these merguez, which were made of pork, had nothing in common with the halal lamb ones he buys from Baraka, a shop run by an Algerian man on Great Western Road in Glasgow. Annie pointed out that though they might not have been authentic, they were delicious; dense, meaty and heavy on the garlic.

Me, I had my usual coley fillet and a bit of Science Diet. I managed to push my sister out of the way and get a mouthful of her Felix cat food, and washed it all down with some nice tap water.