Dear Just-Eat…

I know, for those of you who follow me on Facebook, I’ve already had a rant about this, but please consider this a 12″ extended version of the afore-mentioned rant. I also realise that ranting on a personal blog with 2 readers is a bit pointless, but if it gets my feelings out there into the internet-o-sphere, and someone reads it, and boycotts Just-Eat like I’m going to do, then my work here is done.

Anyway, Just-Eat was, until tonight, one of my most visited websites on a weekend. For those of you who were unfamiliar with the concept (perhaps you’ve been living on the moon for the past 8 years), it allows you to order take-away food directly through their website, from any number of establishments in your local area. The take-away / restaurant would then get a printout of what you wanted, and then they’d prepare and deliver it, with NO human interaction. It’s perfect for me, as I can’t stand talking on the telephone, and the order is printed out, minimizing the chance of cock-ups with the order.

I would usually order a curry, usually once a week, from many of Hartlepool’s finest curry outlets (Yes, Cafe India was on there), in fact, since August, I’ve ordered through just-eat 23 times. That’s a lot of curry.

Anyway, they had a thing where they would charge you for the use of credit cards. That wasn’t much of a problem. There was one time where I paid by card, the money was taken and the meal never showed up, even though the restaurant swore blind they delivered it, and I had to fight for a refund. If you decided to pay by cash, you dodn’t have to pay the 50p. Fair enough. A livable arrangement.

Anyway, as I mentioned, there was a 50p surcharge in place to pay via credit or debit card. Then, the ban on card surcharges came into force. Now, how were they going to go about this. Were they going to be a good company, and begin to absorb the charges themselves? No, of course not, otherwise, I wouldn’t be typing this, with my fingers bashing the keyboard so hard that the neighbours are banging on the wall. And I don’t even have neighbours!

NO, Good old Just-Eat did possibly the shittiest thing a company could ever do to a customer, and they brought in the 50p surcharge for EVERYONE, whether you are paying by card or not.

I would just like to know how pissed they all were in the meeting, when the brightest spark in the room, possibly slumped over a table suggested this… I can only imagine it went something like this…

Whoever 1: “Well, we’ve been shafting customers with our 50p card surcharge, but the government are going to put a stop to this… what can we do to get around this?”
Whoever 2: “Oh… I don’t know…. Shaft everyone?”
Whoever 1: “PERFECT! I LOVE IT!”

Well done, you’ve lost me as a customer, and hopefully, many many more. Yes, credit card charges cost money, but you find another way of absorbing the charge. I’m sure you make enough from the takeaways and restaurants that are signed up (but hopefully won’t be for much longer). You wouldn’t DARE increase their fee. Noooo, instead, you take out out of the pocket of the consumer.

The other argument is “Well, 50p isn’t much is it?”. Yeah, once. But take those 23 times I mentioned above. If I ordered as frequently now (fat chance of that), I’d be £11.50 out of pocket for absolutely NO REASON. It’s like going to Argos, paying for something with money, and then charging you 50p for the fucking barcode stuck to it.

I would love to know if they have a marketing team. If they do, I’ll expect a copy ‘n’ paste response from a script, scouring the internet for their name, and posts such as this one. If, just eat, you ARE going to come back on this, please include the meaning of the word “moron” as the third sentence of your comment. Y’know. To show that you’ve read and understood this.

Yours sincerely,
Angry Jamie

Goodbye Cafe India, it’s time to (not) dine…

Sad news, for all of you who love their curry, and live in this fair town of Hartlepool… Cafe India, one of my regular haunts (or one that cropped up regularly on my rotation of Hartlepudlian curry houses anyway) has served up its last onion bhaji.

I noticed it earlier in the week. I work a mere stone’s throw from its location, and I noticed that part of the window looked to be boarded up. The road it was on was not the most elegant road, so I had hoped it may have just been smashed. Imagine the heart-wrenching scene, when I approached closer, and yes, the entire place was boarded up. I have heard via Facebook that it closed due to lack of staff. Maybe this means there’s a chance it’ll reopen if they find someone? I notice their Just-eat page is still active (naturally, you can’t order from it). Maybe it’s just lulling me into a sense of security. Maybe it’ll disappear just as suddenly.

Over the recemnt months, I’ve been less of a customer. Not for any fault of theirs, it’s because, due to ol’ crater-foot, I was barely out of the house for 4 months, and the once regular occurrence of a curry, pretty much disappeared into the ether. Ironically, the last time I was in here was immediately after Hartlepool got relegated to the Bananavanarama league, way back on 6th May…

And, now we don’t have Cafe India, we might not even end up with a Hartlepool United…

#savepoolsday – 20th January.

UPDATE: I had heard that the owner had moved into taxis, but had no confirmation of that, until now – the owner of the Cafe India page has changed it to “Taxi Shahan”. I guess this means it won’t be coming back.

To the ones we’ve lost in 2017…

2017 has seen a lot of change. Normally, I’d do a review of the year, month by month, but seeing as the entire time between August and mid-December was lost to a foot problem, I don’t think there’s much point. Instead I’ll look back at some of the things that were around at the start of the year, but have now been confined to history.

First off, we’ll start off with a sad personal one of mine…

I found it too difficult to post about on here at the time, so I didn’t, but back in the summer, we lost Sam, or Samson go give him his full name. On the 19th July at the ripe old age of 18, he made his final journey “up the coast road”, to join his sister in Doggy Heaven, where she can once again try to mount him, and they can both hide rotting bits of meat under the sofa for the rest of eternity, and he can lie at the top of the stairs leading to the pearly…. dogflaps (?!), and wait for someone to trip over him in the dark. Six months have passed, and I still instinctively pause at the top of the stairs to make sure I’m not going to step on him!

BATCHELOR’S MILD CURRY SAVOURY RICE

I had intended to write a blog post addressing my dismay at the discontinuation of Mild Curry Savoury Rice, to be replaced with “Super Rice”, but I never got round to it. Although the two look very similar, to me, there was a world of difference.

I have been a fan of the Savoury Rice variety for as long as I can remember. In fact, here’s a photo of me, at Sandy Bay, demolishing a bowl of the afore-mentioned rice-based snack…

Judging by the look on my face, you can tell I was enjoying it. Or maybe I just looked that way as a kid, who knows. Anyway, this remained in the very small repertoire of foods I’d actually eat as a kid.It survived with me, throughout my teens, 20s, into my 30s. OK, there’d be times where I wouldn’t have it for months, even years, but at the back of my mind, it’d be there.

Unfortunately, it was a recipe that “Bachelors” tampered with from time to time, making a pouched “microwaveable” version, for example. These didn’t last long, and eventually went back to the dehydrated backet variety.

Fast forward a few years, and I noticed they’d changed the branding. It was now “Mild Curry Super Rice”, and instead of taking 15-20 minutes to cook, it took 5 minutes. Well, I’d be interested to see what it was like. Aaaaaaaaand, I hated it. The newly formed rice was stodgy, the flavouring stuck to the side of the pan and turned black. It was overall, a disappointing mush, and it contained the scourge of all these types of products… dried peas. Every time I see then I just have to ask why they even exist.

It turns out miracles happened, and I found a shop in the town centre that still stocked the “Savoury Rice” variety. It was still the old recipe. Longer cooking times, no dried peas. A tear of happiness rolled down my cheek. This remained the case for a good few months. Both varieties lived their separate lives.

Then, my foot happened, and I was unable to attend the town centre for a couple of months. I went to stock up, only to find… yes, you’ve guessed it… “Mild Curry Super Rice”. I fell to my knees, clutching my head. A part of me had died. A huge part of my culinary life was at an end. I hadn’t been this devastated since Birds Eye discontinued their “Boil In the Bag” curries some time in the mid 2000s.

All is not lost, however. There appears to be another change to the recipe, and dare I say, it’s “acceptable”. The rice isn’t at bad, and the flavour is adequate. If you put those two packets together though, you’ll notice the values in the health thing are different. Changed recipe, or smaller packet? I shall investigate further.

THE APPRENTICE

If, for some reason you haven’t watched it and intend to, then skip this secion as there’ll be spoilers.

Wow, what was that all about? This was by far the worst series I’ve seen it. Normally there’d be some people who you want to see do well, but no, not this year. I hated all of them. And then, that end? Both of them got the bloody money. A grand anti-climax to an utterly depressing 12 weeks of television. After this years’ disappointing show, I’d be interested to see if they completely reshuffle the way the show works, or even abandon it completely. Either way, I’m not sure I’ll bother watching.

I’d attempted to write more on this, but everything I typed just turned into a long, rambling post about nothing, so I’ll just leave with wishing you all the best for the last day of 2017, and if you have a birthday in 2018, then have a happy return.

See you in 2018!

I don’t feel like singing! Not without Fraulein Maria!

Oh, good-ee. Christmas is approaching us quicker than a speeding locomotive, blasting through the hills of Bavaria, and this year, every single advertisement break on TV has had an awfully twee advert about a mother and daughter who grow up watching “The Sound of Music” together, so the tune of “My Favourite Things”. The end of the advert sees the mother, alone, her daughter has clearly moved out, when all of a sudden, the daughter returns, and now has her own daughter, and the three of them are once again sat down to watch the Sound of Music, and I think I’ve just been sick.

Now, I thankfully have never saw the afore-mentioned film, and only know of the song because it’s used more often than a randy tramp’s condom. I genuinely think it’s something I’d never be able to sit through without retching. It got me wondering, however, if I agree with the choices made in the song, and if some of the things really are my favourite things too?

Raindrops on roses

Naaah. Admittedly, they can be photogenic, if I’ve got a good camera on me, but I’m rarely in the vacinity of roses, and I wouldn’t go out of the way to see them. Next!

And whiskers on kittens

Well that’s pretty specific isn’t it? What about the rest of the kitten? And do you suddenly go off them when the cat reaches adolescence? Admittedly, I’m not a cat person anyway. You can’t trust cats. I’ve only ever liked a handful of cats. There was Dogmeat, a small grey cat from my childhood. There was a guy that lived at the end of the road named Carl, who built bikes. I’m not sure if she was his or just a stray, but after a few months of watching us play cricket in the street, she fell pregnant, had kittens and was never seen again. Sad times.

There’s also James’s cat, who I’ve mentioned before on here.

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

When I was a kid, we used to always go to Appleby, a small town in Cumbria, famed for its annual travellers’ fair, where people go to watch horses being led into a river. Takes all sorts. Anyway, there used to be a cafe called “The Copper Kettle”. They did lovely chips. Anyway, one year, we went and it had gone. This devastating news meant we never went back to Appleby.
Google tells me it still exists, so it appears it’s reopened in the same location. I doubt it’ll be the same, and their recipe for chips will likely be confined to the history books. It’s very unlikely I’ll ever return to Appleby anyway, so I guess I’ll never know. As for actual copper kettles… No. Not when electric kettles exist.

As for the mittens, absolutely not. I don’t like having my hands covered, and you’ll never see me with a pair of gloves on, or indeed, warm woolen mittens. That’s why coats have pockets.

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

In this day and age of terrorism, I’d be more wary of this, especially if it wasn’t expected. Anyway, cardboard boxes are more common these days. I wonder if anyone actually received packages like this any more…

These are a few of my favorite things

Zero from four. Not going good so far, is it?

Cream-colored ponies

I’ve never once looked at a pony of any colour and thought “That’s one of my favourite things”. I might have got slightly jealous, mind you….

and crisp apple strudels

You know, I went to Austria a few years ago, and never had strudel. I’m not a great fan of apple pie, so I don’t know whether I’d like it or not.

Doorbells and sleigh bells

Can’t stand the doorbell. It’s usually someone wanting money off me. Or, it’s one of the little local scruffians ringing the doorbell and running off. Unless I’m expecting someone, or expecting a package, I usually don’t answer the door. And sleigh bells usually signify Christmas, so you can get stuffed with those too.

And schnitzel with noodles

Ooooo! Finally! Going back to my trip to Austria, I DID have schnitzel, and really liked it. Not sure if I’d class it as one of my favourite things, but if I were to go to Vienna aagain, I’d definitely be ordering the schnitzel. I didn’t see it for sale with noodles though. Is that really a thing, or just more shoddy rhyming There can’t be many things that rhyme with “strudel”?

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings

Right, I’m getting bored of this now, and I’m aware there’s another verse, but I can’t be arsed to do it. At this point, I think that they were just looking for words that rhymed with “things”, because I’ve never seen a moonlit goose. It’s also likely that I never will, as most of the time, I would be below the goose, and any moonlight reflecting off their wings would be pointed upwards. A poor show

These are a few of my favorite things

Well, as I expected, I disagreed with most of these, But, somewhere, in a Mexican jail, I bet there’ll be someone in a Mexican jail, with this going through their head, as Jose, the “cream coloured pony” enters the cell….

London 2017, day 1.

Yes, I’m aware that I came back from London over a week ago, yet I’ve only just got around to starting to type out it. “Why is that”, I hear you ask. WIt’s because I’m in the middle of recovering from it. I’m under doctors’ orders to keep the weight off my right foot, because, possibly due to a case of worn / ill-fitting footwear, soft Hartlepudlian feet, and walking for approximately 30 miles in the course of three days, means that I managed to lose a large percentage of the skin on my foot.

I did have an accomplice with me for the trip, but this person doesn’t want to be named in the blog. It’s to be expected. I mean, who wants to openly admit sharing a hotel room with me? Therefore, this person will be named as “Accomplice”.

Aaaanyway. Onto the trip. I arranged athe the abode of Accomplice just before 9AM. Thankfully transport for us to get to Darlington had been pre-arranged, as the train was at 10:28. We were both expecting the A19 to be heaving at this time, so we set off at about 9. Half an hour later, (including a stop off to pick up excessive amounts of Pom-Bears), we were there. Darlington Station isn’t really a place you’d want to spend an hour at, but I guess it’s better than missing the train.

The train journey was uneventful, expect for the occasional piercing scream from the child in the seat in front. Admittedly, I was slightly hungover, so this didn’t really help matters. Headphones did, however.

So, we arrive in London with the sun shining. Hordes of fellow travellers depart the train, and off we go towards the hotel. It was about a 5 minute walk from King’s Cross to the hotel, though the weight of my bag made it feel more like 50. Accomplice had been to the same hotel previously, so at least we knew the way.

We were early for the hotel by about two hours so couldn’t check in, but were allowed to drop our bags. That was a weight off. I don’t know if that’s often a thing that hotels do. but it could have helped with the times I’ve been places and carried my bag around until check-in time. I’ll have to remember that.

Seeing as we were now bagless, it was time to have a walk around. Up Euston Road, along Great Portland Street, and down Oxford Street because we both agreed it was time to grab the tube, seeing as we’d pretty much just done a “lap”. I make no secret about hating the underground, but it’s so convenient. Could have done without the £12.30 price tag for a day ticket though. Sure, an Oyster card might have worked out cheaper, but you know I hate shellfish. A-haha, etc.

There were a few places I wanted to go. Not exactly touristy things. Camden, and The World’s End pub were two of these. I’ve never seen the film, but still always wanted to go there.

We had a brief walk around Camden. It was crowded, seeing as it was mid afternoon, in the height of summer.. Camden Market really is weird though. It’s all of the stuff you’ve never realised you’ve never needed and actually didn’t want, but with really nice food stalls. They also get arsey if you want to take a photo too.

We decided that we’d come back after things have died down a little. Our stomachs were rumbling, so it was time to find something to eat. A quick dash on the tube later, and we ended up in Leicester Square. Accomplice had informed me there was a nice Italian place “around here somewhere” that would satisfy our foodular needs. Turns out we couldn’t find it, and instead went to “Steak & Co.”

You genuinely can’t go wrong with a good steak, and at this point I was starving, so it seemed a perfect choice. We were provided with a menu. A complete waste of time. I felt like saying to the woman at the door “Two slabs of beef, chips, bit of pepper sause… STAT! But, before I’d plucked up the courage to talk to a female, the waiter was on-hand with a notepad.

“Yeah, I’ll have that. that, glass of coke, and can I have it medium rare please”.

“Oh, it comes rare, YOU cook it how you want.”

What kind of actual voodoo was this? I’m in a restaurant, and you want me to cook my steak? Oh, okay, my knowledge of steak barely expands above Frankie + Benny’s, but… prepare my own steak? Eh?

It turns out, they bring out the steak on a massive, hot stone, and you cut it, fry it, and add the ingredients as you see fit. Admittedly, I expected to spend the next two days in the hotel bog, but nope, I managed to somehow prepare a steak on a hot stone and cook it all by myself, without food poisoning. It came to just under £25 for steak, chips and a glass of coke, but my word, we’re still talking about that steak now.

So, happily fed, we headed back off to Camden.

Crap photo opportunities aside, we headed to The Worlds End.

Before I found out how much a pint of “Soft Southern Piss” would cost, a small voice beside me said “What do you want?” Holy cow. Accomplice had offered to buy a pint in what would surely be the most expensive establishment we’d ever been in. Pint of your finest lager please, Barkeep! Well, actually it was Brooklyn lager, but still at 5.60 a pint, I made it last about an hour.

Brewdog is a brand we both have a bit of an affection to. Accomplice likes trying the different ales they have on offer. I like it because there’s less chance of it tasting like cat piss. On a night out, I buy the bottles of IPA. On a night out like this, I bought the draught lager. I thought that it may have been better value for money, seeing as it was my round. Nope. Pretty much the same price. Two pints in, and over 11 quid light.

Unfortunately, Accomplice had bought a “dark lager. Not up to their usual standards of taste, and if I hadn’t have necked three quaretrs of it, it’d have ended up down the sink.

So, Camden was completed. The tube was still open, and there was time to do the touristy stuff. I’d never seen Tower Bridge lit up before, so seeing I had my camera, we headed down there. Of course, we did get slightly lost, but ended up walking past a bar called “Fuckoffee” I took photos, but they were shite. Maybe you’ll be able to work out the name from this…

The walk continued, and it suddenly dawned upon us that Tower Bridge probably wasn’t in the direction we were heading. The GPS that my phone recorded clearly proved this.

Note that we didn’t suddenly swim over the other side of the river and back again. That’s just Google’s “Timeline” feature being slightly less creepy for a second.

Naturally, there were some night time river shots. One of which,


Yeah, not bad I suppose.

It was pushing 10pm by this point, so we walked the “short” distance between Tower Bridge and London Bridge, hopped on the tube and went back to the hotel.

Fasten your seatbelts, Day 2 is going to be a long one…