Belated happy birthday Dux! A pie, correction, a small slice of pie, ahem, the crumbs from the leftovers of a pie should be on the way to your post-office address. Delicious, I can safely say, as I tested the quality exhaustively.

Roger, yesterday I watched a programme on the TV where the hosts where visiting mainly Charleston and Myrtle Beach in SC. In spite of the mention of alligators in a lake where I, naive Dane that I am would only expect to find ducks or maybe a swan, the climate (beach season from March to October), buildings and general ambience looked very appealing as an alternative to a cold, snowy Wednesday here in Copenhagen, Denmark. Some interesting food stuff as well learned from the programme as well; cooked rectums, no less, well spiced.

Folks,

MG:

I have been to Myrtle Beach many times my friend. Years ago it was not so over-built and commercial as today. The seashore there compares favorably to those in NC. They have great seafood there but not necessarily as good as or better than we enjoyed in the small fishing town of Calabash, NC nearby. There seems to be more seafood restaurants there than people. The small town of Morehead City, NC has some excellent seafood available in season. There is a fine seafood restaurant on the island across the causeway from morehead where you can get seafood taken right off the boat. Fishing boats tie up to their pier daily.

An interesting if disgusting recipe that does not surprise me much. It is alimentary Watson. Every mammal has at least one of those they say. Some must be spicier than others. To guard against a spicy rectum I recommend that when eating very spicy food you should chase it with some tasty ice cream. More than once I have found myself in pain and wishing for the ice cream to hurry along.

I do not know if that particular anatomical item was removed from the fish I ate in Calabash however if not I did not detect anything suspicious. Down here many people love to cook and eat every part of the hog including the intestines. Called "Chitlins", I understand they are delicious, however even when well cleaned before going in the pot, your neighbors are going to know what you are cooking if a window is open in the kitchen.

You might have felt right at home here the past few days. There is very little evidence of the bitter cold to be seen mostly left along secondary roads and in shady places today. As I have written before our weather here is a roller coaster ride.

Folks,

Dux:

I am sure that the pie from MG was delicious no matter how many crumbs you actually received. Alas, the large 8 layer dark chocolate cake that I had baked for you was nearly returned due to a shortfall in postage. Unsure of the correct postage I had tried weighing it using a rusty old kitchen scale and a US postage weight table from 2001. It seemed a bit to heavy for the amount of postage I had on hand so I opened up the package and ate a big slice.

Weighing it again it still seemed too heavy so I scoffed down another big slice. Nope. The cake was still too heavy. This went on for about eight hours with me trying my best to get the cake's weight, the table and the postage to balance out. Just as it was getting dark outside I found that the proper balance had finally been reached.

Someone uncharitably pointed out that now what was left was much too big for the box I was sending it in. Having no smaller box available at home and knowing the bakery was now closed, there was really nothing more I could do about it so I ate the last bit of the cake. That last part was about the size of a big cup cake by then. Sorry about that. I want you to understand that with every morsel of that large, mouth watering confection that I ate I did so with a hearty wish for a happy birthday and many delightful returns of the day.

Great, JRT. Now I want some apple pie.

Your eloquent description of the seafood quality in your area of the world had me hankering for some of it.

Having only driven through your area, the closest I could get to it was a place close to the Baltimore Airport where the best crab cakes I was ever lucky to savor were found.
Other than a flight to BWI and a short cab ride to G&M for a great lunch my best option was to buy a pound of crab meat and make some attempt to perfection.

It worked. Had scallions, fresh parsley, basil etc. handy and I went to town; embarrassingly finishing almost half of the resulting morsels.

Now you guys are talking about cake. Dark chocolate cake. Delicious cake in a shape and presentation that would give competition to Sophia if she were a cake.

But I can't bake, JRT.
So now I want pie, JRT; and I don't know how to bake.

Folks,

Fittop:

I've never been much of a baker either. The bread machine I bought for my late wife years ago allowed me to bake bread and rolls after she passed away. I was also able to make a good pizza dough. I had always cooked the spaghetti so we had that weekly. My wife cooked the manicotti and lasagna so I had to experiment with those. I had many of my wife's family southern recopies on the computer. My son and grand children actually begged to be guinea pigs so, after I had them sign release forms, I tried my hand on a few favorites. As expected this produced varied results when compared to what my wife had previously prepared. Southern fried chicken, banana pudding and chicken pastry (similar to chicken and dumplings) were considered to be very close to palatable. Anything on our grill was more up my street, steaks, brats and barbecued chicken were actually popular.

NC is famous for barbecue. There are two distinctive styles. In our west the Lexington variety which uses a red sauce (ketchup base) and eastern where I grew up that uses a vinegar base sauce. I come from a well known eastern NC barbecue family. My paternal great uncle opened the first sit down barbecue restaurant in the state on the banks of the Tar River in Rocky Mount, NC. I-95 and 301 highways run right by that city. It is located nearly half way between NY City and Miami. When we had hurricanes the Tar would rise up and flood the area around Uncle Bob's restaurant. People had to have their barbecue fix so there are photos of folks rowing out in their boats to buy it.

Out front there was a small building with stone steps leading down to a spring. It was the coldest, sweetest water I have any recollection of ever tasting. Those were the Halcion days before we were all so germophobic so there was only one communal aluminum dipper provided for everyone. The water was pure and no one seemed to mind. Restaurant patrons found the same ice cold spring water was served at their table in a large pitcher. In the days before air conditioning that was a refreshing treat.

Each additional flood produced a plaque showing the high water mark. Alas, the last one after hurricane Fran in the 90s would have been attached to the flag pole. By then the restaurant was no longer in our family. The flood washed it away. That was a real loss for barbecue lovers. Things had changed by then anyway. The spring had been converted into a more hygienic water fountain. The cooking method also changed with the new owners. At uncle Bob's the hogs were all pit cooked using hickory wood. In the end, like many other barbecue joints, the "cue" was cooked with gas and that was still delicious but not the same.

That same spring ran above ground through my grandparents property where I grew up. It was said that when Sherman's troops burned down the nearby cotton mill during the march through the south they stopped there to water their horses and to get a cold drink for themselves. Torching buildings and pillaging the countryside was thirsty work during the un-civil war. I found some interesting old bottles there that dated back to that war. An old laudanum bottle was found. Research online indicated it was from NY probably mfg. in the 1860s. Not worth much though. Plenty were made.

You have a hankering for pie you say? Pie is good. Well, some pies are better than others. Unless I had baked a pie and served it to you I doubt you have ever met a pie you did not like. I have never baked a pie so that is doubtful and I have enjoyed every pie I can recall ever encountering while holding a fork. My wife baked chocolate pies for every family occasion. Her pies were much looked forward to particularly at Christmas. I have her recipe but some things should be left sacred. I could not do that justice. Like many other special things I recall from our 40 years together those pies will remain a sweet memory.

MG seems to be the pie professor around here. I do not know if the Danes are as famous for their pies as they are for fish and other delicacies. I seem to recall an old recipe possibly of Danish origin that requires one to put a fish in the ground for a long period of time then dig it up and bake it in a pie. On the other hand, that might be a recipe from Minnesota, I'm not sure. I see so many odd things on TV. If he knows that particular recipe maybe he can help out...

All I can do to send you pie is the following. 3.14159265359

Thank you, JRT.
I'll reread your post as soon as I take a bite of the pie you sent me.
It looks so good I'm sending you a picture of it.



Hmm, good! After downing a good portion of the virtual pie, I proceeded to run an errand.

Being Friday the 13th, my sixty-year streak of a defensive driving has come to an end.

Bubba Andretti caught up with me when he decided to chance a left turn through three lanes of west-bound traffic, accelerate through the open spot on a median and three lanes of eastbound traffic in his Toyota Tacoma. One of those lanes was occupied by yours truly.

He said he didn't see me.
Hard to miss a white mini-van with headlights on and a bleating horn unless you're not looking or very hard of hearing. Maybe he thought it was a soccer mom at the wheel? He was definitely thinking he was the only one on the road.

I did apply the brakes but it was a bit of a hard kiss, resulting in a crippled bumper, bent fender and a need for a light assembly. No telling if there's frame damage. Surely I'll need a wheel alignment and maybe new tire.

Oh well. The air bag stayed in place.

As a result, hopefully you'll forgive the postponement of discussion on the merits of pulled pork, brisket and other serious BBQ items and sources until later. (I'm still voting for pulled pork even if living in a brisket state.)
But I'd love to hear more.

Folks,

Fittop:

LOL. That circular confection looks much better and far tastier now than when it left here. I cannot compute why even though there may be a particular number of reasons why this is true. Plunge right in and gobble it up with my blessings.

Yep, Friday 13th. Days of no new postings and now rush-hour traffic on the posts.
It'll end up being a good day yet.
Apparently I was editing while you were posting.

Folks,

Fittop:

Friday the 13th!!! That explains a lot. Every day is a good day however today has not been nearly so good as many others have been. I do see signs of improvement. For instance, we are lucky that we only have a few hours left before this day is over and things should improve.

Folks,

Fittop:

Just reread your edited post. I would say that all things considered Friday the 13th was actually your lucky day. You survived without serious injury and there were no other major injuries or fatalities. Cars can be repaired or replaced.

Hmmmmm. Yes I recall (hopefully correctly) that you live in a state also famous for excellent barbecue mostly of an entirely different nature from mine. Most restaurants here have switched to pork briskets rather than "whole hog". I believe you begin with an entirely different beastie. I have been to the big "D" and your barbecue beef is wonderful. Most home barbecuers still go "whole hog" here and have special cookers for that purpose. You can rent a cooker if you don't have one. Most of us have our own homemade sauce. Some just add ingredients to a popular commercial sauce.

Years ago my wife's family (at my suggestion) switched from turkey to pork barbecue for Thanksgiving. It was a huge success even though the men had to get up very early to cook the guest of honor. We are all addicted to barbecue but it is the pig who gives his all to it.

Hello Chaps,

Please forgive my absence of late which has been largely due to continuing attacks of indigestion after receiving what was left of MG's cake. I feel indebted to him for his excessive sampling of that self-made comestible which otherwise may have incapacitated me until Easter...just in time to receive one of his infamous chocolate bunny cakes. I used last years offering to prop open the garage door and also to prevent the car rolling back while I was adjusting the brakes.

Lovely weather here for January but with a chilly south-east wind today. Dabs, Whiting, Flounder, and Dogfish being caught from the harbour and by offshors boat anglers.

I have heard that bacon is a good standby bait when other baits unavailable...but I prefer it on bread with HP sauce myself.

Folks,

Dux:

It sounds as if you have settled right in and are already enjoying the sporting pleasures of your new surroundings. Do you practice "catch and release" or do you take your catch home for the pan? I have never been an avid angler myself. I like the "catching" part but haven't the patience for the "fishing". My son and late wife were quite fond of all types of fishing. My grandson has become quite proficient at "wetting a hook" and already shows great patience and skill. My son took the boy deep sea fishing once and that was a great treat. He overcame seasickness, caught fish and still speaks about his catch with a bright gleam in his eyes.

Beyond river and pond (cane pole) fishing when I was a boy (I grew up within easy walking distance from the river), my most memorable fishing experience was a dubious attempt at fly fishing in our western mountains back in the mid 70's. MY late wife and I did a lot of camping back then. As you might expect, I was truly hopeless at first. Then, with some laughing pointers given by a few seasoned fisherman, I eventually managed to coax a couple of fat trout to join us for supper.

Without doubt those fresh trout, fried over an open fire that night, were the best fish I have ever eaten in my life. At least that is how I remember them. My curiously skeptical wife would remind me (the bragging angler) how I had fallen in the stream, dropped one fish on the ground after breading it, burnt my fingers on the hot pan and coined several new obscenities when an errant spark set fire to my shoe.

Do not listen to her. That would be female jealousy talking. She actually had the unmitigated nerve to suggest that I had stopped by the village fish monger's where I surreptitiously purchased those two tasty fish on my triumphant way back to camp. Nonsense. We passed that very establishment the next day on our way home. If we had only had the time to stop I could have nipped that ridiculous accusation in the bud.

Folks:

I realize that I never posted the final chapter of that last Dux story. Beyond my profound sympathy for those of you who might have felt compelled to read that mess you will remember that I had been warned by Dux of possible litigation unless I immediately ceased posting such revealin.... damnin....circumstantial evidence against him. His solicitors being considered the second most powerful in the land, I have thought it wise to hold off posting that final chapter until I could acquire representation from the law firm considered to be both the best and the go to firm of last resort. I am delighted to report that I now have such representation. As of yesterday the firm of Pointe, Shoote, Riddle and Burrie have graciously agreed to represent me. After initial contact with Dux's solicitors, they are confident I can safely post the final chapter completely without fear of litigation.

I will therefore very shortly post at least an abbreviated version of said final chapter. Those with weak stomachs or sensitive natures consider yourselves forewarned. Those unwilling to be underwhelmed should avoid reading it altogether in my humble opinion.

Chaps,

JRT,

Rough weather until last night with quite a gale blowing from the east. Complete contrast today with weekend crowd around town and bright sunshine on a millpond sea! The weather changes around this part of the coast can be quite dramatic. Dangerous for the unwary out at sea and faced with the unpredictable currents and deteriorating circumstances. Yarrrr! Stay on the shore if you don't know what you are doing, all ye landlubbers!

Folks,

Dux:

Excellent pix of seawall and crashing surf my seafearing friend. If that is what passeth for a millpond in Wales then I would not wish to be caught a paddling about in rough weather. Our old pal Caesar Choppi learned to respect the power of the sea the hard way did he not? Remember how he ignored posted gale warnings one cloudy winter day and rowed out into the Channel to fish with four bottles of Chateau Thames Embankment Vin one hour ago for ballast? After the force 10 gale had spent itself only three empties ever returned to shore. Sad really.... one bottle being presumed lost, I mean.

Folks:

SPOILER ALLERT
That meaning reading the following could spoil your day.

As promised, what follows will be the final installing enthrallment of that chilling Dux tale interrupted by the holidays and left unfinished for several merciful weeks.

The Sparkle Of Christmas
Final Chapter

As you may unwillingly recall, it was nearly Christmas and our hero Dux had been coaxed by a lovely local decorator by the name of Aretha Holly to go out in a blizzard to procure a suitable Christmas tree for the little rural town of Studley Grange.

Aretha had watched Dux tramp off into the snow toward the town mews where a huge draft horse with the unlikely sobriquet of Pee Wee was harnessed and waiting patiently to help with the chore. Help he would indeed as in some ways that horse was smarter than most humans.

Standing there steaming in the cold, the Shire horse shuffled his hooves and shivered. Pee Wee was indeed smart. For instance, he would not have willingly gone out into weather that dangerous and certainly not just to find a tree. Even a dog would never do that. There were plenty of trees right in front of the town mews.

Back in the warmth of her home, Aretha moved near her hearth and stoked the fire sending up a lovely spray of sparks. Now that would be a wonderful Christmas display if she could only figure out how to create it. Stepping over to her window Aretha looked out upon a mantle of snow that would have impressed even good King Wenceslas.

It was almost dark now. The snow had lessened and yet she was very worried about Dux. Aretha now knew she never should have sent him out in such conditions. If she saw no sign of him soon she would call the authorities to form a search party. Sarch party? Yes there were plenty of the local lads always in search of any reason to visit the local pub. They gladly would meet there and plan strategy. After several hours of hard planning they might even get around to the actual searching. She stood there wringing her hands by the window looking out into the gloom.

Miles away, knee deep in snow in the waning light, Dux was still whacking away with his axe. Finally he had chopped the unusually smooth trunk all the way through. He was about to yell “Timber” when something very odd happened. The thing did not fall. It just stood there and it was actually bouncing up and down. Next there was a series of sharp TWANGGGGS! Sparks flew and rained down upon him.

The tree fell now but hung just off the ground. To his right and left more sparks began to shower down accompanied with even more twanging sounds. Pee Wee had had enough. he bolted for home with Dux, who had grabbed on the trailing reins as the horse galloped by, being dragged over the snow behind him.

Moving down the snow covered mountain a fiery trail of magnificent sparks were now raining down. Back in Studley Grange folks were standing at their windows marveling at the beautiful spectacle. Aretha Holly, still standing at her window, was beside herself with joy watching the wondrous display. When the traveling line of sparks proceeded down the mountain and reached the town they suddenly stopped. That is the instantaneous moment when everyone lost the smiles from their faces as they realized that the entire town of Studley Grange was now totally blacked out.

There was no GPS, no cell phones back then. Dux was blotto and half frozen. He had no compass and, seeing double, he couldn’t have made out the face of one if he had. Were it not for the keen situational awareness and perfect homing instinct of the horse we would still be looking for Dux’s somewhat alcohol embalmed body to this day.

As it was however, horse and man arrived safely in the dark at the Studley Grange mews just in time to see several kerosene lanterns come to life inside where the search party from the pub was just now reforming. Hearing the loud jingling and snorting that announced the arrival of Pee Wee, out ran several men to bring the great beast inside where he was soon to be royally groomed and cared for.

Left behind, lying there moaning softly in the deep snow, Dux was overlooked in the gloom. He lay there freezing to death and afraid to make himself known. He thought it was a lynch mob organizing to hang him. On the way down the mountain it had dawned upon him what a terrible mistake he had made. He had chopped down a power pole not a tree at all. The twangings were the power lines parting, the sparks were from the transformers blowing.

Thinking hard on it, he tried to formulate his own pitiful defense. What he chopped down had indeed once been a tree, it was straight, it was tall and it was made of wood. Who could tell the difference in the dark? So terrible was his pain and so deep his delirium that Dux actually thought it a reasonable defense.

Encouraged, he began to wail and call out for help. There was a scramble of feet inside the mews and out piled the lot to grab Dux up from the snow and carry him triumphantly into the building singing “He’s a Jolly Good fellow” all the way. He was in fact the town hero that snowy night. Everyone agreed that despite the inconvenience of a very dark night they had seen the most eloquent and beautiful Christmas display they ever would be likely to see.

Aretha Holly was among the jubilant crowd in the mews that night. After a good booze up and many slaps on his back Dux staggered to his feet and rightfully proposed a toast to the real hero of the hour. That would be Pee Wee the amazing Shire Horse. His long nose deep in his feedbag guzzling down the best oats he had ever tasted, Pee Wee snorted his approval.

Turning back from the horse, it was eventually noticed that Dux had fallen on his face in a steaming pile of manure…again. The boys picked him up and unceremoniously dumped the nearly comatose Dux onto a convenient sled. Very soon she said their goodbyes and Aretha began pulling the completely toasted Dux down the lane toward her house where a warm place by the fire awaited them both.

The End

Folks,

Another chilly Monday. We had a few snow flakes in some areas of the state before sunrise this morning. I did not get up to see them as my late wife and her two sisters would have done. Snow is still a novelty down here you see. I guess I am (like my Canadian friends) becoming rather blase' about the frozen kind of precipitation. Or perhaps I require more beauty sleep than they did? A lot more.

Dux:

Have you had an opportunity to really go a roving since you moved to paradise? Done any birding, train, plane spotting? Doubtless you are missing your old mates from Derbyshire. A fellow like you will have made new friends quickly I'm sure. Being so near the sea there must be quite a breeze on most days. That should offer some difficulties in getting your lovely Fokker into the air I suppose.

I recently watched a Brit produced documentary program about resurrecting a Fokker Triplane replete with Richthofen livery. Amazing. The series also included an equally beautifully restored P51-D and a Hurricane I. The Hurricane was found at a university in India of all places. Research showed that it had flown in the BoB. Its original pilot was in fact an ace. I only had the first season on Netflix. I hope to see any additional programs that might have aired in Britain at sometime in the future.

JRT:
I won't be full of envy for missing your snow flakes today. Yes, it is January still, but after a few days of close to freezing weather here, the temperatures are in the balmy mid-seventies here.
The worry is what that may augur for us this Summer. I would not appreciate a long period of a hundred degrees days.
Enjoying your tales.

Folks,

Fittop:

I'm sure yawl get more snow than do we. Presently at 6:30 PM ET it is 43F. (6.1 C.) with clear skies. So, with no cloud cover the mercury will drop tonight. That may still be considered mild,skinny dippin' weather by our Canadian friends but it is a might too chilly for us southerners in our less insulated homes and thinner jammies. Frankly, though I am secretly impressed by their apparent imperviousness to cold, I'd rather not have to go swimmin' toting an ice pick, thank you very much.

i must thank you for reading the story and for the compliment. At least there is one shamelessly masochistic soul about not yet afraid to encourage me.

Folks:

Almost 10 AM ET here this fine morning. Temp 43F with 13 MPH wind gusts. For me it has been morning since about 4 AM. I woke and for some reason sleep managed to evade me until I finally rose at 8. It is about time for another strong, black cup of coffee me thinks. One a day will usually do for me but not this sleep deprived morning. I have the yawning fits. Ever tried to yawn and drink coffee at the same time? Don't.

Mercifully, unlike some, I do not as a rule suffer from insomnia. Today however despite the "eternal sunshine of a spotless conscious" I was so afflicted. My friend Sallee P. Yawner is troubled by regular bouts of sleeplessness. You may know Sallee? She is a hammock tester over at the Sure Grip Hammock and Innerspring Mattress Factory. Sallee recently confided in me that she had, in sleepless desperation, finally availed herself of the services of Doctors Lye, Downe and Droppov at the Studley grange Sleep, Sex, Erotic Yoga and Massage Therapy Clinic located on the high street just two doors down from Hugo Knottmee's Deep, Deep Discount Bombed Out Cities Travel Agency. Sallee says she is quite pleased with the results of her visit to the clinic though she still has insomnia. Thanks to the therapy, now she has a lot more things to do while awake.

Once upon a time. A time that is seemingly far, far away today, there was a veritable multitude of BoB pilot authors typing stories and after action reports far better than anything I can wring from the synapses my own gray matter. They have nearly all wandered off to fall under the spell of other games, other hobbies. I miss their contributions. Now,let me say for you who may not be aware of it, that Dux was and still is one of the best of the best writers. It is difficult however to coax him into writing anything beyond additional IOUs at the Prince & Polecat pub anymore. That's OK of course for he contributes in other ways.

I enjoyed the reading. Naturally I get just as little, maybe even less, pleasure from reading my own mess than you do. Trust me, most of the time when I finish one of these Dux tales I am as surprised as anyone how the thing ends. Everything written on HWH is archived of course. All save for the 600 plus pages lost when the server crashed and everything disappeared down a rabbit hole. If you would like to see how it once was 15 years ago or so just go back to page one of this thread and begin reading. Feel free to skip my junk but read Dux's stories and those of so many others.