The legend of the egg banjo

What happened to our waffle iron? It was a family heirloom, bought, I think, during the Festival of Britain in 1951, and used throughout my childhood. I reckon it probably got thrown out years ago, but I would still like one today.
 
This Fred is getting relentlessly Competitive!

...or Miam miam as they say over here in La Belle France

Everyone is going for the xed knives & forks with rosettes and truffle clusters, forsooth!

Let us return to the contemplation in joy, of the simple egg banjo, with bacon butty and kai, mug of, chasers, the wet, cold, tired Watchkeeper's Friends!

And offer up grateful Thanks to the Poor Sod with a strong enough stomach to cook them underway at 6-8kts upwind in the Raz:D
 
Everyone is going for the xed knives & forks with rosettes and truffle clusters, forsooth!

Let us return to the contemplation in joy, of the simple egg banjo, with bacon butty and kai, mug of, chasers, the wet, cold, tired Watchkeeper's Friends!

And offer up grateful Thanks to the Poor Sod with a strong enough stomach to cook them underway at 6-8kts upwind in the Raz:D

Many years ago, I had the misfortune to sail as mate back from St Helier to Plymouth in a wooden 43' sloop in what turned into a NW F9 gusting something much nastier. I spent about 18 hours - the worst bit - steering as I dared not go below; the other three crew members refused to leave their bunks, preferring to await eagerly the grim reaper while lying down (they had been struck down by my unique spam curry eaten with great relish just before the weather hit us); the skipper remained below navigating by DR and RDF on a paper-mâché chart while cooking and eating one egg banjo after another, drinking Pastis from a pint tankard and chain-smoking Gitanes.
 
Many years ago, I had the misfortune to sail as mate back from St Helier to Plymouth in a wooden 43' sloop in what turned into a NW F9 gusting something much nastier. I spent about 18 hours - the worst bit - steering as I dared not go below; the other three crew members refused to leave their bunks, preferring to await eagerly the grim reaper while lying down (they had been struck down by my unique spam curry eaten with great relish just before the weather hit us); the skipper remained below navigating by DR and RDF on a paper-mâché chart while cooking and eating one egg banjo after another, drinking Pastis from a pint tankard and chain-smoking Gitanes.

Mmm. Drinking pints of Pastis seldom has a happy ending.
 
Mmm. Drinking pints of Pastis seldom has a happy ending.

This guy survived it (probably from long practice). There is still some doubt as to whether he actually was a human being, but he was a superlative seaman (apart from not noticing what the weather was about to do...)
 
Many years ago, I had the misfortune to sail as mate back from St Helier to Plymouth in a wooden 43' sloop in what turned into a NW F9 gusting something much nastier......the skipper remained below navigating by DR and RDF on a paper-mâché chart while cooking and eating one egg banjo after another, drinking Pastis from a pint tankard and chain-smoking Gitanes.

In any case, to me that's just plain wrong. IMHO you should only drink pastis when south of the Loire.
 
In any case, to me that's just plain wrong. IMHO you should only drink pastis when south of the Loire.

More prejudice, I'm afraid. We were engineering students with an average age of about 21 (years, to fend off the inevitable) and we were pushing the boundaries, as I believe bad behaviour is now called by members of the professional art and media industry. I might add that, as he began to feel poorly, one of the crew tried to cheer himself up by declaiming long passages from memory from the Marat-Sade. It didn't work, and didn't assist the rest of us either.

(smiley icon)

As to Pastis drinking areas, you had better go and tell all the barkeepers in Britanny to stop selling the stuff. And, while you're at it, you might pass a message on to the Douanes- something about papers, I think (ducks rapidly for cover).
 
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Today has undoubtedly been one of the greatest Sundays of my life.

This morning there was a knock at the bedroom door accompanied by a loud rendition of "wakey wakey, rise and shine!" from our seven and five year old.

SWMBO and I groaned and hid under the covers. Go away I said, it's too early. :(

But we've made you breakfast in bed they said.

Oh no I thought, what have they done? They have never attempted this before.

..... and in came the most perfect egg banjo. :)

A truly historic moment.


Jack and James you are the most outstanding sons I could ever have wished for. :):):):)
 
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great day

Today has undoubtedly been one of the greatest Sundays of my life.

This morning there was a knock at the bedroom door accompanied by a loud rendition of "wakey wakey, rise and shine!" from our seven and five year old.

SWMBO and I groaned and hid under the covers. Go away I said, it's too early. :(

But we've made you breakfast in bed they said.

Oh no I thought, what have they done. They have never attempted this before.

..... and in came the most perfect egg banjo. :)

A truly historic moment.


Jack and James you are the most outstanding sons I could ever have wished for. :):):):)

I hope the kitchen and sheets survived

so

was a ktl inspired banjo or just chance

D
 
I'll see your egg banjo and raise you...






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A cheesy, hammy, eggy!
Another military favourite. Can recall these being served in the wardroom of Ark Royal
 
I hope the kitchen and sheets survived

so

was a ktl inspired banjo or just chance

D

All your own work Dylan, we showed them your vid last week :)

The kitchen survived remarkably well. They toasted the bread, cracked an egg in a cup and gave it 60 seconds in the microwave, then instead of butter smeared ketchup on the toast.

Nom Nom Nom.

Cheers
 
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