Many of you will know the simple pleasure Tim obtains from the noble egg. Poached, fried, scrambled; he will delight in nature's nutricious package in any form. Except perhaps one...
The story goes a little something like this (some dialogue may have been altered for entertainment purposes):
Tim: I like eggs.
Christie: I know.
Tim: I think I will eat egg for lunch.
Christie: Ok.
Tim: I will go and make some now.
Christie: Ok.
Tim had difficulty cracking the egg into the frying pan and when he investigated further he found that all was not as it should be.
Tim: Christie, there is a problem with the egg.
Christie: Oh, what is wrong?
Tim: It has @#!!@~# feathers.
Christie: I see, that is a problem.
The eggs in question had been purchased from the supermarket and nowhere on the package could we find any obvous sign that they were a little further on in their development that we were used to. Once Tim had mustered up the courage to crack the egg completely out emerged the most horrifying thing I have ever seen. Blood, feathers and egg yolk spilled out into the bowl, which it took me a good ten minutes to get near. Apparently once boiled this is a Vietnamese delicacy. I have never seen anything so wrong in my life. We still have the eggs - if anyone would like one then please send us postage and packaging.
I'm not sure Tim's relationship with eggs is ever going to be the same again.
xx
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