Pie and peas? Not for me

There were many things that I didn't know about Yorkshire before moving here almost exactly six years ago; some good and some very, very bad.

One of the worst was pie and peas.

As Wikipedia explains,"pie and peas is a traditional meal in the north of England, consisting of an individual raised pork pie made with hot water crust pastry and served with mushy peas and mint sauce. Pie and pea shops and stalls used to be a common feature on Northern streets and markets but these days it is more usually sold in sandwich shops and 'Chippies.' Some people prefer meat and potato or steak pies, but this is not traditional."

Ever the traditionalist, Vanessa went for the pork pie and peas option for lunch in Temple Newsam yesterday - you can see a picture of her actual dish above. And doesn't it look appetising? No, you're right, it doesn't. Not even remotely.

Indeed, it looked so bad that I almost enjoyed the second most awful burger I've ever eaten in my life (just behind a quarter-pounder I had at Ballymena Showgrounds during the Boxing Day derby some years ago, which was burnt on one side and raw on the other. My Coleraine scarf might have had something to do with this).

But there is a second reason why even the sight of pie and peas makes me queasy. Just weeks after we moved up here, Vanessa's mum Judy and stepdad Mike invited us to a "do" in Horsforth Church Hall at which both "entertainment and refreshment" would be provided. I decided I could cope with that, particularly as Vanessa promised we could leave after an hour to go to The Black Bull.

However, on turning up, I discovered (it quickly transpired that Vanessa already knew) that the "entertainment" was line dancing - with all attendees expected to participate. As the world's worst dancer, this was not good.

I briefly protested to Judy who helpfully suggested that I take my place at the back of the room where no-one could see me. A fair compromise, I thought.

All was going swimmingly for the first three bars of the first number until the bloke with the stage microphone, wearing his biggest and best cowboy hat, boomed, "Turn around!"

And everyone did, thereby leaving me at the "front" of the room. Matters were made even worse by the fact that I appeared to be the tallest person in said room by at least a foot (age makes you shrink, you see).

At was at this point that the stage fright kicked in. Filled with panic, my mind went blank, my feet went AWOL and, within no more than a minute, I had stormed off into a corner in a girlie strop.

Vanessa comforted me briefly, full smirk upon her face, before returning to the fray for the next half hour.

And then the refreshments were wheeled out: Kaliber (i.e. that "beer with all the alcohol taken out") and...yes, you've guessed it...pie and peas.

I hate pie and peas.