Being Excited about Stickers

The last time I remember being this excited about stickers was when my friend and I swore to collect every single one in the generic-horse-riding-stickers-specifically-targeted-at-11-year-old’s-pocket-money collection. It is my firm belief to this day that sticker numbers 34 and 18 never existed; but that is not up for thoughtful analysis and subsequent irate letter-writing today. Today we celebrate that the Beast has finally come into his own and has the livery he always wanted.

Not only that, but after getting cooker-rage out of my system in a therapeutic blog post last Friday, it turns out that after a mere 4 hours of scrubbing and painting the oven is actually not too bad, and may yet serve in the battle against mediocre mobile munchies.

However, I am getting ahead of myself, back to the Beast, and the bright crispness of an unspeakably early Sunday morning. Barny and I were leaving Leamington to scope out a car boot sale, and see if it might provide a possible market, when the most wonderful person pulled up and began applying beautification to the van. Not only was it before 9am on the 7th day, but when plied with beer the most wonderful person confessed he had not even expected that. We insisted, and with our affairs in order we set off to see what sort of culinary offerings were to be found at one of the largest car boots in the country.

The sat nav, in keeping with Barny’s low opinion of the module, carefully guided us to a largely random location, but eventually we found ourselves wandering past drifts of baby clothes and sagging tables of old computer games. The food was what interested us most, and I am delighted to report that almost all of the resident traders were independent. Their offerings, it turned out, consisted largely of burgers, bacon and doughnuts, which I think means one of two things. Either there is a gaping gap in the market here for something tasty, delicious and served from a large green van, or there really, really isn’t. After a few hours of wandering round and a fairly sad burger from one of the most interesting looking trailers, the conclusion was that Boot sales, or at least this boot sale, may not be a market for Street Food.

We returned home to find that where once had stood a regular green VW LT, the Jabberwocky, in all his be-stickered glory, now graced our drive. It was majestic and beautiful and Barny even joined me in a little celebratory jumping up and down, it was that exciting. Now when I compare us to the local competition I think that we are not being unrealistic and daft. I think that we can do this.

What remained was to get some good pictures, for which we roped in passing friend the Pipe, and spread them to the wider world. We were even encouraged to finally add pictures of yours truly and Barny, which I don’t think will end well. Photography, in my opinion, is not something that I should ever be the focus of. Luckily I already have a sticker album project in the wings, featuring all your favourite Jabberwocky images. Look out especially for numbers 34 and 18, exclusive pictures of your favourite catering entrepreneurs.

Assuming we are your favourites that is.

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About Jabberwocky Soliloquy

The Jabberwocky drifts through space, collecting the most tasty things to eat. It brings them home and cooks them, humming about deliberate omissions and fortifying colours. As with all things it is, or should be, just happy to be here.
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