...as they no doubt say in The North. Anyway, that's what us 'ad for us teas tonight. Martin grilled aubergines, courgettes, red peppers, serrano chillies, field mushrooms, haloumi cheese, Toulouse sausages and black pudding, and served it all with boiled new potatoes (six minutes in the pressure cooker, which is still enough of a novelty to be used even when not strictly necessary) and sliced runner beans with carrots (four minutes in aforesaid technological marvel). He forgot to make the salad, but with all those vegetables, and pears and dates for dessert, it wasn't needed. He uses a heavy, cast-iron, ridged grill pan, which is the best way to get those nice grill stripes on to food, save of course for a barbecue (and we won't be seeing one of those for eight months). 
Me, I just had me flippin' usual. You may not know, but I'm a Northern cat, as it 'appens. Born in Chorlton-cum-Hardy, I'll 'ave thee know. I could have been the cat in the title sequence on Coronation Street, but they flamin' moved us up to Scotland when we was kittens, like.
I do apologise. I have no idea what came over me. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible....
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