To tide you over...

I haven't written much recently, as I've been rather busy with other things, but here's a piece of writing (which arose in conversation with the delightful Zoe Holder) of which I was rather proud, and felt warranted sharing.

Apparently, Colchestrian oysters are among the finest in the world. I don't know what it is about our water or our climate or whatever it is, but if you're into oysters, ours are the shit. A French penpal of mine had a father who loved him some oysters - when he heard that I lived in Colchester and there was a prospect of coming to visit us, his mustache positively vibrated with delight. Connoisseurs will travel from literally all over the world to get a chance to eat a fresh Colchestrian oyster.

The thing is, they won't travel *to* Colchester; they'll travel to Ipswich, or Norwich, or Bury St. Edmunds, or somewhere nearby that gets them shipped in fresh. They won't travel to Colchester, because the demand for this refined foodstuff among the hoi polloi of Colchester is so low that there is literally nowhere in the town that serves them. Honestly. We create some of the best examples of one of the most desirable comestibles in the world, but no-one can make a profit selling them because we're all too busy necking WKD's and guzzling fried chicken.

Which is not to say that no-one's tried. Some years ago, an entrepreneur spotted this sad lacuna in Colchester's eateries, and funded the opening of a dedicated Oyster Bar in prime location on the High Street. Within six months, it had shut down from lack of custom, and was replaced by a bar named Bubbles; which, in some grotesque parody of a sports bar, boasted multiple widescreen HD televisions that showed never-ending re-runs of dramatic moments from soap operas. I think that says it all.

(It kills me to duplicate the definite article in "the hoi polloi", but sadly that's the accepted usage)