Obviously, I delight in logging onto Mudcat where I can engage with the lower orders, followed by perambulating towards a folk club in a local hostelry where I can cohort with the proletariat over a glass of cheap beer.

Rather entertaining to hear aspirational banter regarding what is ours by right.







On a more honest note, the '80s me would think me posh. When my boys were young, I used to point out lambs in the fields and shout "Mint sauce!"

Now, with my granddaughter, I shout "Garlic and rosemary!"