After two days of sporadic snowfall, It was a fillip this morning to once again sit at the breakfast table with solar rays kissing my balding crown. Stolen moments when an audiobook filled some of the knowledge voids I hold about The Beatles as I chomped on marmite with toast in the company of dogs Deano and Zella.
With the melancholic look of Oliver Twist holding out his bowl begging for more gruel, the furry scamps going on to emotionally blackmail me out of twelve corners of toasted bread. As this scene of shameful coercion played out, two things struck GJ Strachan.
Firstly, from what I was witnessing after intentionally dropping grilled bread onto Lino flooring, there appeared to be something in the adage ‘dropped toast always lands butter side down’. Secondly, and not that my doggy buddies complained, how the hell were there twelve corners; after all, I’d only toasted two slices.
At this juncture someone with a far better understanding of canine dietary requirements will no doubt accuse me of gross irresponsibility for feeding dogs from my table. Not to mention allowing them marmite; a product they may deem as too high a salt content for ingestion by mutts.
To my accusers I’d reply there was only the merest smidgen of Vegemite on the breads edges. Additionally, you’re welcome to come take the food from them next time I’m equally as reckless. A move, which like yanking a donkey’s tail, will result in a firm rebuke from Deano in particular.
The ordinarily even tempered Lhasa apso a dog who can be triggered into a confrontational growl, and on rare occasions maybe even a bite. I’d venture one act guaranteed to ‘light the blue touch paper’ would be taking his food from under his furry conk.
And, to be honest, you couldn’t blame the little fella. After all, I don’t think anyone would, or indeed should, be overly enamoured if a much wanted snack was nabbed seconds before the tuck in question’s consumption.
With regards all toast corners landing butter side down, admittedly it was only a small sample from which I’m drawing these conclusions. What I should really convey is of the six or so hitting the floor each one landed face down. Which although raising notions backing the adages validity, cannot be classed as conclusive proof fate’ll consign buttered toast to such a disconcerting destiny.
The other half dozen didn’t even reach the floor. Zella (the German Shepherd), displaying reflexes of a cricketing slip fielder, nabbing the morsels in her whisker ringed gob prior to them reaching terra firma. Consequently, those six clearly cannot be added towards tests of fates mischievous side.
“So what conclusion(s) are you endeavouring to relay to your readership, Gary?” I hear you cry……. Well the more erudite of you anyhow……. I suspect there’ll be those who’ll revert to less impressive vocabulary, instead inquiring “What the f*** are you on about, Gary?!”, or something similarly brisk.
Well, I suppose what I’m attempting to advocate was, as all six toast corners which reached the Lino landed butter side down, they maybe a strong case to back the adage’s validity. However, a far larger trial sample is required for it to be recorded as a scientific fact.
“Why don’t you undertake the same research, just with significantly larger number of toast slices?” you may cry.
Well, off the top of my head, I can think of three reasons why I’m wholly indifferent towards a more comprehensive approach to testing whether toast always lands butter side down:-
- It’d cost me a bloody fortune to procure the bread and butter required to prove the theory beyond reasonable doubt.
- Zella and Deano poop enough without filling their guts further with toast, and
- I’ve got a lot better things to do with my chuffing time than spend an hour or so toasting, buttering and lobbing loaves of bread onto my kitchen floor.
I bet you regret taking time to read this inconclusive flimflam now, don’t you! 😉