Exotic meals

Lunch today was a bit of beetroot and a roll-up. Don’t you dare say I’m not living the dream. Tomorrow’s lunch may not be so spectacular: no-one is paying me, despite my persistence and far-from-threatening threats. The trick here, of course, is to borrow money, but most of my friends are either in a similar boat, wary of my paying back skills, or would simply be too shocked at a borderline professional footballer/successful writer coming to them asking for cash. I could ask my parents, but one is a janitor living in a bedsit and the other is on a state pension, so I would feel wrong asking them to borrow money, a feeling intensified by me always borrowing money from them and never paying it back.

So I’m in a bit of a hole, a beetroot shaped hole. It’s one I’ll climb out of – I’m forever climbing out of holes – but I’ve had to put the experiment on hold for a day or two before I can summon up the energy to plough back into it. In the meantime I have three features to write, one of which has to be in this afternoon and is about Antigua, a place I visited in June earlier this year when I was earning a thousand pounds a week and having lunches that might have included beetroot as an accompaniment, but was never the main – only – focus of the meal.

Thanks to everyone who keeps reading. You’re all a bit nuts, but thanks.¬†




12 responses to “Exotic meals

  1. Beetroot would have been an accompanyment to the starter, not the main.

    I nearly stole a car from my boss earlier in order to get to the nearest train station. I was planning on leaving a note explaining that I couldn’t take working anymore, apologise about the car, and provide a tip-off for where it was going to be. But I didn’t. Coz I’m a wimp. Unlike you pitchingtheworld.

  2. Crikey – sorry about my spelling pitchingtheworld. That must be a clanging din to your well-tuned writer/footballer’s ears.

  3. That was my beetroot.

  4. Doesn’t it make your pee purple?

  5. Bingo, crikey, don’t be sorry. I’m happy to have you here, regardless of the spelling.
    Tracey, yes it does, though I balance it out by eating lots of asparagus. When I can afford it. Which is never.
    My wife – no it wasn’t.

  6. When I was at primary school my friend Matt ran up to me and told me I hd to come and see something. Turns out he had done a poo that was half green and half red; perfectly down the middle. It was amazing. Then we locked a young kid in there with it. He said he couldn’t breathe and started crying. I had to stand by the fence for half of lunchtime. Matt got away with it.

  7. That story Alan, much like the poo that that kid “had done”, is amazing. Though, much like this blog that I have done, it is barely credible.

  8. I’ve just discovered your blog Pitchingtheworld and I love it – so much that I just tweeted about it. As a fellow journo I thought you should be given some props for your awesome idea – just wish I’d thought of it first. Don’t give up! You are not alone in beetroot poverty…!

  9. Oh I totally just tweeted about your blog. Tweeted all over myself and my MacBook Pro. There’s tweet everywhere.

  10. Watch yourself Bingo.
    Thanks Ruth – good to know there are fellow beetroot eaters out there.

  11. No need, Bingo. Although in retrospect maybe that did sound a bit weird….

  12. If beetroot stops feeling glamorous you could always try this option:


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