Caedmon was an early English Christian poet who lived in Whitby in the 7th century. The writer of this blog has no pretensions to such exalted gifts, and for this reason (as well as the fact that the name has already been taken) has chosen his Cat. They say that a cat can look at a king; this cat certainly does that. He's also had a good Christian education from his master, and he's quite prepared to use it when necessary.
Thursday, 30 May 2013
The Wars Of The Cheeses
SInce I last wrote, a lot has happened here in the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria, and one significant event to signal the meddlesome and dictatorial intent of the political hierarchy is the recent announcement by Dagwald Caedmeron - the Arch-demon of the Tree Faction and Holy Emperor of the Tree/Liberationist Alliance Administration - that they will step up their war against cheese.
It all started outside our own Realm in the Kingdom of Wessex, where one of the perennial customs of the villagers in Springtime is to assemble at the top of a nearby hill, and let a sizeable cheese roll down it with forty thousand local people in hot pursuit. Such eccentric customs have existed since Adam was a lad, and are probably a throwback to a distant pagan past. Whatever.
Unfortunately, the Fluffy Diversity Commissariat and Health & Safety Command And Control Bureau awoke from their customary slumbers and got wind of this, and decided immediately to put a stop to such savage and ignoble activity. So they banned the cheese. The Wessex soothsayers consequently went to town, and in their inimitable fashion whipped the West Saxons into a hysteria about the breaking of their Sacred Rite of Spring. It's made no difference, however.
Caddy Boy was seemingly inspired by such a measure, and has subsequently decreed throughout the Northumbrian Realm that the possession of cheese in any form is an offence punishable by death or diversity - whichever comes sooner. It is - according to the edict - an evil substance which contributes to morbid obesity, death and biscuit.
Since the curdled product of the cow's lactation constitutes a significant part of the Northumbrian diet, a lot of people are Deeply Concerned about this - not the least the farmers, whose beasts supply the raw material.
Feaxede the Fox and I are also unhappy about this development, since we're also partial to a sneaky nibble of a bit of Wensleydale when the occasion presents it.
But all is not lost. Already, there exists an emerging underground market, manned by shifty young Vikings, who surreptitiously trade such commodities as Danish Blue, Sage Derby and Leire's Caster Red...