Babycham und Schnitzengruben (Adventures with Delia)

We went for a walk in the Black Forest.
It brought colour to your braised pork cheeks.
Everything seemed newly minted, like lamb shanks
But fifteen was my limit on schnitzengruben.

We went to sea in a giant Yorkshire pudding.
After two weeks of Babycham and seawater,
I mistook you for a spiny red gurnard.
I'd got as far as dipping you in flour and egg
And was just about to roll you in breadcrumbs

When we ran aground on the clove rocks of Candy Island.
We lay panting on the peanut buttery sand.
Sherbet sprayed in our sun-flayed faces.
I gnawed freely on the sweet leg meat of the spider crabwomen.
You ignored me when I roasted my sweet nuts by the fire.

X marks the spot where we sprouted up in Brussels.
We sucked Mint Cake in Kendal.
We hotpotted in Lancashire, tarted in Bakewell.
I was John McEnroe, you were Ivan Lendl.

Now they're bringing in the bill and the digestifs
And you never got to try my prime Scotch beef...

B.R. 22/10/2013