The other day he popped out to get us some lunch. Standing in line in the cafe, reading the sandwich menu, he was delighted to see “fried banana” under “sausage” in the list of sandwich ingredients you could have. Elsewhere in his culinary explorations, he cooks a mean breadcrumbed bacon steak in whisky sauce, and apparently an alternative to the whisky sauce (although somehow we’ve never deviated from the booze route, you wonder why) you can actually do the bacon with fried banana.
So he reaches the counter, and happily orders a ham and fried banana sandwich, whereupon the poor confused cashier who is probably on the minimum wage and really doesn’t need this kind of weirdness goes “Huh?” and Alec rechecks the menu only to realize that it actually read “Fried sausage” and “Banana” rather than “Sausage” and “Fried banana”, banana presumably being sold in its capacity as fruity accompaniment to sandwich rather than actually lurking within, but by now it’s too late and he’s a bit confused too, so he says yes, he wants a ham and banana sandwich, and he gets this ham and banana sandwich and takes it back to the flat and says here, Michelle, a ham and banana sandwich.
Meanwhile, until recently there was a huge watermelon with a funnel in it on my dining table, and a bottle of Smirnoff. He was trying to infuse the melon with vodka.