A letter from Newcastle

Dear Reader,

With the last and next few weekends busy, I thought I'd do a bit of shopping this evening after work and before heading back to Durham. I didn't leave the office until a bit before 7, as it is, unfortunately, just one of those weeks. Knowing of, but never partaking in, Thursday's late night shopping, I thought I'd still have at least a few hours in the shops. Yet when I arrived on the High Street, tills were already being counted and clerks were starting to look impatient. I soon realized that a late night ends at 8pm if you don't mind half closed security gates and dirty looks... and 7:40 if you do.

Read the rest...
Feeling rushed and disappointed, I found myself in Fenwicks, a rather large and rather nice department store, just as the warning announcements began. Ten minutes. Without enough time to do any serious perusing, I started to look for the closest exit before remembering that I hadn't eaten and maybe I should. I followed the signs down to the Food Hall. Five minutes. The expression on the face of the matronly woman at the till looked as empty and shuttered as the meat and cheese counters, so I headed back towards the exit. And this is when something familiar caught my eye. I knew they sold £6 Lucky Charms and the largest Hershey's bar I'd ever seen at Fenwicks, but this was the real thing: a display of American-ness.

There were:
-Not only red boxes of Lucky Charms, but also brown boxes of Chocolate Lucky Charms (?!)
-Jars of Marshmallow Fluff, including raspberry flavor (again: ?!)
-Skippy Peanut Butter
-Jars with Smuckers peanut butter and grape jelly swirled together
-Hershey's Chocolate Syrup
-Hershey's Baking Cocoa
-Aunt Jemima Pancake Mix
-Both regular and light Aunt Jemima Maple Syrup (for 6.49 a piece!)

I lingered. As the woman's voice came over the speakers informing me that my time was up, those neatly stacked shelves made me feel a little intoxicated. And, to be honest, a little sad. You know you've worn yourself a bit too thin, dear Reader, when Fluffernutter makes you teary.

I found myself walking to the one unlocked door with mixed emotions, when a Purpose popped into my head. My train wouldn't leave for another 38 minutes, so I might as well do a bit of American investigating. Another shared batch of monster cookies (which are by far the world's best cookie and you should make some or at the very least ask me to make some for you next we meet) last week had prompted multiple discussions about biscuits. We'd explained the difference between muffins and cakes at church, debated the fine points of cookies and scones at work, chuckled over the British conception of biscuits and gravy on our way to Liverpool... Cookies, as opposed to biscuits, tend to be softer, chewier, and chunk-containing. A package of Tollhouse Chocolate Chips could very well have produced a blubbering sob had they been sitting there next to that raspberry marshmallow fluff. And while I'm at it, surely graham crackers and true marshmallows are a worthier stock option than a perfectly good jar of peanut butter pre-ruined by jam? Regardless, wed' always come up short describing an American biscuit, but last Friday, we remembered Kentucky Fried Chicken. Of course! The explanations would be unnecessary if we could produce the real thing. If they had it...

And that, Reader, is what went through my head as I set off to find out. If, of course, the KFC was open past 8pm. I entered the store figuring I'd pretend not to have cash (which was true). It's been some time since I've been in a Kentucky Fried Chicken, and it took me a moment to figure out what was where. The buckets were still there, but there were a number of meal options, all with french fries. Is this the case in the USA? I do not know. But there were the sides. No biscuits. No mashed potatoes, for that matter, although gravy was there, so maybe I missed them.

Now, what's the appeal in a KFC without biscuits? The chicken, you may say. Yes, perhaps, but while there was always enough chicken in a bucket for my family, it was the biscuits that came up short. Scarcity breeds desire. I'd take one of those little pats of butter they don't make any more with the handy peal away paper, and my sister would find the little plastic honey packet... Alas, Wikipedia pictures of biscuits will have to do as Exhibit A is not coming from KFC.

A woman turned to me and said it was too late (!!) for sit in, but I could do take away. I mumbled an excuse and went outside, frankly a little awed by the McDonald's advertising 'Open 24 hours' across the street. Next up: McDonald's breakfast biscuits. Gag. But I'll check it out since it's for a good cause and all. But not tonight.

I walked down the nearly empty sidewalk (except for the growing number of Thursday drunks) towards the train station, slightly cold as I'd chosen not to wear socks this morning. And then I was on the train, and we were leaving, and the announcer was a Scottish man, and I was happy again. Albeit hungry.

It was just a night, but I thought I might share it. I hope you have one just as interesting, although perhaps a bit more productive.

Sincerely,
Your typically not-so-serious friend,
Megan