The beach shack that we frequent was having a Xmas dinner at about four times the price of a usual meal compounded by the fact that it was a typical English Xmas dinner of roast beef, roast potatoes and boiled vegetables. Now I have heard it on good authority that the cooks in Hell are British. And, in Goa, roast beef is often water buffalo and the beef is not aged. We have tasted this elsewhere and it's like chewing on an eraser. So, we declined the invitation. But the waiters continued to press and each day for about a week we said we could not come. Finally, I came up with an idea. I told the waiter that we could not come because we did not eat beef. That put an end to the constant and ongoing request. Xmas came and went. We did not attend but found out from friends that the meal was delicious and worth the cost. Of course, the friends are British and helped organize the dinner so we were mildly skeptical. The following day, Boxing Day, at the same beach shack I noticed a Special. At a rediculously low price a traditional Boxing Day lunch. Cold roast beef (remember it was delicious at dinner), french fried potatoes (yum yum), horseradish (oohhh), hot mustard and pickles. My mouth was watering. I showed Barbara the menu. "We can't order that," she said. "Why not," said I. "Because, we told them we don't eat beef," said she.
I pondered this for a while. "I could tell them that I was a Born Again Carnivore." No!. "Okay, how about I joined the Cult of Omnivores." No!. "Okay how about..." Just then Ishwar our waiter asked if he could take our order. I looked at Barbara and got the negative nod.
"We will have two omelettes and a garden salad."
Otherwise all is well here. Happy New Year to all.
Ryan and Daniel. Google "hung petard" and you'll get the meaning of the title of this story.
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