Day 15: the Brown sauce problem

I like living in a foreign country and not having a very good grip on the language. It allows me to live in a sort of little bubble, isolated from the world by my ignorance. Things happen around me that if I could understand, I am sure I would get upset or annoyed or frustrated about, but as I am in my little shell I can just pretend they don’t exist. For a grumpy, over-thinking mind such as mine, it certainly relieves the stress. The other plus is that I never have to listen to old women on the bus talking about last night’s soaps as if the people in them were real. I am sure that is exactly what the conversation that was going on behind me was today but I didn’t understand a word of it, so I didn’t care.

But obviously there are times when it can be frustrating, like when you watch a cyclist come off his bike and you are powerless to help, or when the pretty girl who is smiling at you has no more than a smattering of English or like to today in Tesco.

Tesco here sells HP sauce, that wonderful condiment that brings out the best in your chips, bacon sandwiches and sausage and mash. The introduction of brown sauce into this country probably improved my quality of life ten fold. Mustard, ketchup, Worcester Sauce all have their place but nothing brings makes a fried egg like brown sauce. Today it was on special offer and as Czechs like a special offer a woman was looking at it askance wondering what she might get for her 31 crowns. Of course when I boldly picked up two bottles, (I like a special offer too,) she asked me for my opinion. I would have loved to have been able to tell her it is the best thing in the world, that she’ll love it, that it will change her life, but all I could say was it is nice.


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