During today's sweatfest I finished listening to yesterday's podcast about "going posh". The final word on what is posh is "opening a champagne bottle with a sword". I reflected on how difficult this would be given I was taught to "twist the bottle, not the cork" in my bar-tending days.
There ended up being a numerical theme for today's jog (the exercise formerly known as a walk by the sea.) I ran 3.3km in about 30 minutes. It's a case of slow and steady, hare over tortoise. Plus a tipping of the hat to all things "30".
There ended up being a numerical theme for today's jog (the exercise formerly known as a walk by the sea.) I ran 3.3km in about 30 minutes. It's a case of slow and steady, hare over tortoise. Plus a tipping of the hat to all things "30".
4 comments:
Me thinks you need to open 30 bottles of champagne with a sword. ;) Then drink it all! lol
Slow and steady is perfect.
Back in my fine-dining waiter days, we had a rather flamboyant manager of the non-heterosexual persuasion who instructed the staff that when opening a bottle of champagne, the cork should not 'pop', but instead should 'sigh, like a contented woman.'
One of my colleagues immediately quipped back, 'and how would know what that sounds like?'
Ahhh, my New Orleans youth.
One lives in hope that inside every gay man there is a bi man who digs chicks.
In Wales, posh is not eating off your knife, or offering someone one of your chips before you take one. There is a gag too:
I hear Linda's getting married?
Is she pregnant?
No.
Oh, there's posh.
It sounds better in a Welsh accent.
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