We all know that I have a turbulent past (turbulent, I say!) with spending my disposable income. Kev has gotten so mad in the past based on my “pointless purchases” that he literally cannot even sometimes. It’s all heartbreaking stuff.
As we wandered around the slightly freezing Lake District in mid-November, me forgetting a proper coat and taking a photo where my nose looks as bright and pink as a carnation, I came across the following in a shop. It was hidden away towards the back along with some other shonky and partially damaged goods:
Now I’m one for a bargain but unless I have another set of draughts with only the black pieces, possibly acquired from a rival store with a similar problem, then surely this is going to remain unsold for some time.
Did they eat all the black pieces thinking they were licorice? Were they stolen by a deranged kleptomaniac with specific requirements? Did anyone get a video?
We will never know the full story and normally I would put good money on them still being there the next time we visit, however human beings are weird and I reckon someone will snap them up sharpish. Possibly as a joke present.
In the last few years, whenever there are renovations to some part of the building where I work, there have been some common design elements. They’re always more colourful for a start, which is nice because the building’s original colour scheme was mainly shades of grey. They also involve little holes or indents in otherwise blank panels that spell things in morse code.
In reception, for example, there are large dark coloured panels with a repeating pattern in morse code that’s lit from behind, which spells out the name of the building over and over again. It’s like a little interior design Easter egg.
Lately, a shared kitchen area near our room was refitted and gained new green cupboard doors. One of them just covers the equipment for the instant hot water tap. It has a pattern of holes that form a vent so the cupboard has some air circulation, and the holes are in morse code.
Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I looked up a morse code translator to see what the vent spells.
Shoe: … left to relieve himself behind the back of Dixons.
Bin: Words to live by surely.
Shoe: It’s coming up tooooooooooo 14:04 this Tuesday afternoon. We’ve been on air since midday…
Bin: Hey, we’ve been broadcasting longer than that.
Shoe: Snappy as always, Bin. Ten years next July, isn’t it?
Bin: I’m afraid so. We’ve been inflicting these people for almost a decade, poisoning even.
Shoe: A decade of Shoe ‘n’ the Bin. Any highlights?
Bin: Nah!
Shoe: Insightful as ever. 14:05 and we’ve already taken you to the dizzy heights of ‘Since You Bin Gone’ by Rainbow and even though he really wanted to, I had to veto Bin from playing Rainbow and Kelly Clarkson back-to-back.
Bin: It’s two songs with the same name! How can you veto entertainment like that?
Shoe: It would be as ker-azy as playing Jennifer Rush, Frankie goes to Hollywood and Huey Lewis and the News one after another.
Bin: I don’t know what you’re referring to.
*honking horn noise in the background*
Shoe: This is why I’m in charge and you’re not.
*sound of applause*
Bin: Can you believe this? Recount! Recount! Après vous!
Shoe: In the next hour you can expect to hear the delights of Otis Redding with ‘I’ve Bin Loving You Too Long’, Charlene’s ‘I’ve Never Bin To Me’.
Bin: I’ve never been to her either. That’s a weird song.
Shoe: It is a weird song, yeah. Ending shortly before the half past news with the succulent sounds of Roxette and ‘It Must Have Bin Love’.
Bin: I tried to find her on a map once, spent hours looking for her, thought I clocked her in Leicestershire but it was Charnwood instead.
Shoe: The lovely government district borough of Charnwood. Shout out to anyone listening in Charnwood. Actually shout out to anyone listening.
*slide whistle noise*
Bin: Once that’s bin and done, we’ll be hitting 3pm with a bang because it’s SHOE HOUR!
*sound of an explosion*
Shoe: Never get tired of that, can shoe believe it? I’m not one to tease but if shoe were hoping to hear the Kinks, Rick Astley and Queen…
Bin: ‘Shoe Really Got Me’, ‘Never Gonna Give Shoe Up’, and ‘We Will Rock Shoe’ respectively…
Shoe: Then you’d best keep tuned in to the best radio show shoe’ve ever heard.
Bin: We’re here every day whether we like it or not.
Shoe: I need to confess something before we move on. I used to be a criminal, but I have since reformed my ways.
Bin: You never told me this!
Shoe: All true, all true. I would have carried on as well however after I had ‘Bin Caught Stealing’ I stopped and thankfully Jane’s Addiction set me on the straight and narrow. Take it away…
Welcome to SportsCast! We all definitely know lots and lots about the sports, and this time around we delve deep into everyone’s favourite, Rugby Eggers!
Welcome to the Shoe and the Bin, Carnforth’s leading example of prime pub bistro patisserie and winner of four ‘Confusing pub but great grub’ awards since 2015.
We pride ourselves on the concoction of food available from our three leading chefs participating in everything from Chinese to Thai to Brazilian and traditional English fare. If you’re after something in particular we can guarantee that we will have cooked it at least once in our 35 years of trading.
With the Christmas period approaching, it would be best to book a table now, even if you don’t need it. We get fully booked within a few hours of December and we would hate for you to miss out on all the fun. Chef Boswick is cooking up a storm with his mango and hazelnut chutney stuffing balls and chef Annalise can’t wait for you to try her steaming mincemeat gravy cake trays.
This is but a small sample menu of the delights that you can expect to see over the festive period, subject to availability and whether or not we can be bothered to dust off the extra kitchen equipment required to make it.
December Menu
Starters
Home cured tin roof salmon, horseradish cauliflower umbrellas, picked Gorbachev, snout oil (GF)
Mixed balcony terrine, feta mousse sharks, disgusting leek with a fresh jus (V, GF?)
In a small, forgotten quarter of Paris, an unremarkable alley harbours a peculiar sight: a solitary shoe resting atop a weathered bin. This seemingly mundane object becomes the focal point of a poetic journey in Le Soulier d’une Vie.
As the seasons change, we witness fleeting moments from the lives of the residents who cross paths with the shoe. There’s Élodie, a dancer grappling with the loss of her passion; Pierre, an aging baker reminiscing about his long-lost love; and Léon, a young boy with an unyielding curiosity. The shoe, a silent witness, absorbs their dreams, secrets, and sorrows.
Through a tapestry of vignettes, the film delves into themes of impermanence, connection, and the beauty found in the mundane. Shot with a delicate hand and a lyrical eye, Le Soulier d’une Vie is a melancholic, yet hopeful reflection on the fragments of life that unite us all.
