Bloated? What? Me!

So it seems there is something else I don’t quite understand. That perhaps a woman of my age should, something the media keeps telling me I must have. What could this be, what must I have since I am a busy woman of certain years who runs round trying to juggle everything at once?

Well let me set the scene..

Currently there is an ad on the TV here in NZ of a former NZ Miss Universe, (Yes really we did actually win one once in the early 80’s.. Coincidentally it was when NZ was starting to go Nuclear free and with the contest being held in the States.... well I am not one on conspiracies theories but....) who is wearing a lovely silk evening gown going on about how sometimes she has to wear this but would rather be wearing this... Next shot she is shown in comfy clothes and somehow by eating this “magic” yoghurt she feels so much better and confident to wear the dress and life is so much better for it!

So it seems, since I am being told daily, I too must have that “bloated, uncomfortable” feeling, where I want to go about all day wearing comfy clothes as heaven forbid you just can’t wear fitting clothes when feeling bloated! I too should be eating\drinking those little bottles of “magic yoghurt” that will fix everything and make my day so much better.

But here is the problem; CAN someone actually tell me what this “bloated” feeling is? What are these women on the telly and in the magazines all going on about?? As I really have no idea!!

Now don’t get me wrong, my diet is not always the best, I do feel bloated and at times do feel a bit uncomfortable wearing fitting clothing but that is generally just after I have eaten a rather large meal, followed by such goodies as dessert, coffee and wine. In my case it is always self inflicted and it always it resolves itself the next morning by the way nature intended. But a day to day feeling of being bloated, no I don’t understand that. Surely if you are feeling a bit uncomfortable doesn’t a wee fart or popping to the toilet normally resolve issues?  According to some “scientific” research conducted women apparently still have an issue admitting that they fart? So if an average person can or needs to fart up to 14 times a day and its not happening where is all that gas going? Yes people, shocking news isn’t it but everyone does it, even the Queen so I’ve been told!

Surely I cannot be the only woman out there that has no idea what they are going on about?

Of course I can’t help thinking, and as I said before I am not into conspiracy theories but.....

Think how prevalent these yoghurts\drinks are now, perhaps these big corporations have stumbled onto a money making machine caused by our busy lifestyles?  Perhaps instead of "needing" these yogurts\drinks all we need to do is to eat properly, listen to our bodies a bit more....... and have that occasional sneaky fart!

It's Daylight Bloody Robbery....

I see you there sitting on the shelf, sitting with all the other “Imported” goods. Looking at me, imploring with me to pick you up, to roll you round in my hands, to take you home.

But I can’t... or rather I won't! It’s not that I can’t afford you; it’s just that I can’t bring myself to spend $4 on you knowing that in London you are a measly 68 pence!

So let’s do the maths, 68p converted at today’s rate would be only $1.30. So not only are you twice the price of the Kiwi equivalent you are 3 times are much as you are in England. So being the principled person that I am and more importantly of Scottish descent, that is simply why I will not be buying you. That is why I leave you sitting on the shelf every time I am in the supermarket.

Because its daylight BLOODY robbery!!

Oh, but you do taste so good. Funny thing is I never liked you until we met again in London. I remember trying you as a youngster, cooked in a billy over an open fire on a school camping trip and “Blech, disgusting, not eating that again!! But then my sister re-introduced us, one soggy Sunday morning along with Marks and Spencer Ultimate Mash..  Ah it was the perfect comfort food for a dodgy hangover.

Hmmm.....  Oh I do so miss having you for brunch on Sunday with my eggs... 

So perhaps you can be my little secret, hidden at the back of the pantry, hidden in amongst the other canned goods. Hidden, so Mr P and the boys don’t see you. They can have the less tasty Kiwi version; they would be none the wiser. I could wait until I am home alone to bring you out, cook you up and scoff you down. Mmmm, I know it’s not nice not to share, but too bad. I make the rules so I can break them...

But, No!!

But really, why not I ask myself? When we were in London I had no problem going to the NZ shop and spending £4 or £5 on a pack of biscuits or some chocolate. Surely this is the same?

No, no of course it isn’t!  Then I just wanted a slice of “home”, something tasty to remind me of what I was missing out on.  To remind me of my childhood.

No, you will not be coming home with me.  I simply cannot bring myself to spend $4 on a can of Baked Beans... 

But I may stop by next time I see you, just so we can have a moment together perhaps even a quick roll in my hands.....

I just don’t understand....

I have been living in this fair country for going on 10 ½ years and in all that time there is one thing I can’t quite understand. I would even go as far as to say it’s a downright bloody mystery to me. That mystery is the jacket (or baked, depending on side of the Atlantic you are on), potato!

In all seriousness I just don’t get whey they are everywhere, doesn’t matter what eating establishment you are in there is bound to be a jacket potato on the menu somewhere. Okay, perhaps Jamie or Gordon don't have them in their restaurants. I have even been aboard and see baked potato stands in English touristy hotspots. As if you can’t leave old Blighty for a week or so without getting your potato fix.

Now I am not a potato hater, in fact I am quite partial to a spud or two and back in NZ we do have baked potatoes, mainly as a meal accompaniment (with just butter on top) or done on the coals of a BBQ. But what I really don't understand is the allure of a potato, baked to within an inch of its life, covered in a variety of toppings, pawn cocktail anyone? I just don’t get it. I can count on one hand, no actually two fingers the number of baked potatoes I have had in my time here. What did I think of them, well they were okay but it wasn’t a culinary masterpiece or even a delight. While working it was a much debated topic between myself and a good friend T, who is a bit of a foodie. While she could see it merits as a healthy lunch option I couldn’t, so would try all I could to negate the argument, “baked potato, might as well get chips!”

So to try and find why the fascination for the baked potato I went over to the ever reliable Wiki and apparently...

“The baked potato has been popular in the UK for many years. In the mid-19th century, jacket potatoes were sold on the streets by hawkers during the autumn and winter months. In London, it was estimated that some 10 tons of baked potatoes were sold each day by this method. Common jacket potato fillings (or "toppings") in the United Kingdom include cheese & beans, tuna mayonnaise, chili con carne and chicken & bacon.
Guy Fawkes Night was a traditional time to eat baked potatoes, often baked in the glowing embers of a bonfire, however this is no longer common and they are eaten at any time of the year.  As part of the upsurge for healthier fast food, the baked potato has again taken to the streets of the UK both in mobile units and restaurants.”

So perhaps a culinary delight it is not supposed to be. Perhaps it is just one of those crazy English traditions that I will never quite understand!