Carter has been interested in monks and their digestion since visiting Kirkstall Abbey on the outskirts of Leeds and seeing the surviving latrines. “I remember being fascinated by the idea of it being a 900-year-old monastic toilet block,” he said.
Was he an odd child? “There wasn’t an awful lot to do on Sunday afternoons in the 1970s.”
That’s one answer to the long dark teatime of the soul.
I recommend a visit to Bodiham Castle, it was very well appointed for privies.
I remember being fascinated by much the same thing at St. Andrews Cathedral and Hadrian’s Wall: over a thousand years apart, yet astonishingly similar. Indeed, if anything, the Roman one looked rather more advanced.
Didn’t turn it into a career, though. (Mind you, I could use one of those right about now. It’s a thought, although I don’t suppose there’s much call for medieval dieticians. One probably goes quite a long way.)
Oh shit!!
Pembroke castle still had the wooden seats, last time I visited.
I found plenty to do on Sundays in the 1970s. I regularly went for “walks” along the canal with girlfriends. Alternatively, a few lads would go and kick a ball around the rec while consuming a few cans of beer which corner shops back then were happy to sell to 15 year olds.
Bodiham Castle
Forgive the pendantry, but it’s Bodiam, no “h”. In East Sussex, north of Hastings.
It is a great place to visit: very picturesque, complete set of walls, in the middle of a lake. Just don’t stick your head in the door of the ruined gatehouse halfway across the bridge: many years ago, my beloved did that, and she got pooped on by a pigeon. Not nice.
Just a look at the title “meat rich diet caused digestive issues” is enough to tell you this is yet another piece of vegan propaganda where guesswork based on 700 year old samples has been somehow twisted to fit the narrative.
Pour boiling oil and water on it from the battlements, and anyone who makes it over the top launch them from a trebauchet (sp) into the nearest lake.
Best way to get to Bodijam Castle is via the Kent & East Sussex Railway. Pack a picnic.
Oh, and if you’re allergic to aspirin, don’t take tablets from your mum that she’s convinced are Panadol. That happened to me at Bodiam Castle.
DocBud, London Weekend TV region Sundays in the early ’70’s:
8 O’Clock, get the papers from the newsagents, the only shop which was open (and only then till 12).
A slice of toast then over the park for Sunday morning football (playing badly for ‘Blades Utd’).
Afterwards a kick about, then home for a bath and Sunday dinner (after a third of a century of trying I still cannot recreate the most wonderful taste and texture of my mum’s yorkshire puddings).
Then The Big Match on ITV. Highlights of a couple of Saturdays first division games (the proper top division – none of this poncy ‘Premiership’ nonsense in them days and top quality English lads too, none of this foreign rubbish. Ok, Clyde Best maybe, and the odd taff and jock), played on a pitch which bore more resemblance to the Somme than a ‘playing surface’.
Doze off for an hour while ‘Movin’ On’ was, well…..on, then whelks, winkles and cockles with vinegar and a slice of bread. If we were entertaining, the Tupperware came out…. followed by Jess Yates and his mighty organ.
When we had recovered from that, over to BBC2 at 7.25 for ‘The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau’ or ‘The World About us’, which took us to places only Alan Whicker knew how to spell, all in High Definition 625 lines colour (that’s “In Color” for our American readers).
Upstairs downstairs soon followed (nothing to do with shellfish) and off to bed as I was bored shitless.
Sundays. They aren’t like they used to be…..
Sounds like more of the anti-meat narrative of the watermelons. It’s almost as if the virtue signallers of the bourgeoisie want to force us to rise up and murder the buggers. Just to get a bit of bloody peace from their incessant whining.
As for the more general theme of 70’s Sundays. One advantage of all the shops being shut (newsagents accepted) was that we weren’t dragged around some god-awful mall to buy meaningless shit.
I used to spend Sunday’s tackling my latest block buster book, be it Lord of the Rings or something about the naughtiness of the Nazis.
Beats jacking-off to Porn Hub, which seems to be what the current generation of youngsters do.
If “meat-rich” is eating meat twice a week, and caused bowel troubles, how do people survive today who eat meat every day of the week?
“(after a third of a century of trying I still cannot recreate the most wonderful taste and texture of my mum’s yorkshire puddings).”
Cooking with electric? The trick’s getting the fat really hot. Animal fat, not oil. Top shelf of an electric oven just doesn’t get hot enough. Then turn them down a bit, let them cook through. Arepas inglesa are a bit of a treat hereabouts.
Noblemen and knights had a meat only diet, which is why they where bigger than the peasants and could fight dragons and Frenchmen and stuff.
They also all snuffed it at 40.
@Ottokring Meat-rich anyway..
And 40-ish is about correct, but that had little to do with diet, and more with being a victim of the odds at attracting acute metal poisoning at progressing age.
War isn’t kind to middle-aged men…
@ Ottokring
You’ve got “only” misplaced – it comes before “Noblemen” not after “meat”