A Shot in the Dark

We went out for a meal at the weekend.  It was a very good meal, plentiful, well-cooked, butter on all the right things (which in my estimation is pretty much everything), cheerfully served and with a selection of good ales.  It also came with a handy assortment of good company so that was nice as well.  I would go so far as to say that we ate in my favourite place in Coventry.

I had a game and blackberry pie.  The menu had a warning to the effect that

“Our game is traditionally sourced and therefore may contain shot.” 

I commented on this to B, as so far I have never come across any in any meal I have had there, which is both a relief but also a slight disappointment.  N pricked her ears up at this idea and asked,

“Daddy, where is the game wearing shorts?”

I was able to point out the warning in the menu which said it might be (give or take an ‘r’) and we were able to carry on with the careful process of selecting lunch.  This wasn’t the end for N though who spent most of the meal chuntering to herself about games in shorts.  I think it’s best if we don’t disabuse her of the notion just yet, I don’t think I’m ready to have to explain what really happened to Bambi’s mother.  

 

Picture carefully cut so as not to reveal the shorts

So thank you, G, for having a birthday that we got to celebrate, many happy returns, and the White Lion in Allesley, by way of my little girl’s mishearing, for planting a particular picture in my head.  When the memory of the food has long faded from my memory, I will keep with me an image which, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I can bring to life before your very eyes.  Ladies and gentlemen here is, game wearing shorts, with not a shot in sight.  Just like my game pie.

Hare today, gone tomorrow