Grilled Cheese and SatNavs

"Well, I have been told I make the best cheese on toast in the world."

"What, better than a croque-monsieur from Patisserie Valerie?"

"Oh, much better. Especially since they don't exist anymore."

Ginnie shrugged. "If you say so. Go on."

She'd popped round to admire my new flat and have a bite to eat before we set off for a concert we were singing in with our choir. I'd decided to offer her my speciality.

"Right then. Be prepared to be amazed."

So I grated the cheese, mixed it with the soured cream, added a generous dessert-spoonful of grainy mustard and sprinkled it with black pepper.

"So, you don't just slap a slice of cheese on top of the bread and put it under the grill?"

"Good heavens, no."

I put the bread in the toaster and turned it down to low. As soon as the two slices popped out, I covered them with my cheese mixture and put them under the grill for a few seconds. It soon started bubbling and going golden.

"There," I said, as I slid it on to the two plates. "The best toasted cheese in the world."      

Soon we were tucking in. I'd prepared a little salad as well and brewed a pot of Earl Grey. We had a good old gossip as we ate. We both worked in the same department of a modern university and there was always some controversy to speculate about. We had a tendency as well, Ginnie and I, to try and put the world right any chance we had. We knew so much more than all of those politicians and journalists and even than some of the experts. 

"You know, that really was something else," said Ginnie after she had swallowed her last mouthful.

"I've got enough stuff to make it all over again if you'd like," I offered.

"Maybe better not?" She nodded towards the Slattery bag she'd put down on the dining table.

My goodness, we were being spoilt. She'd only bought us two slices each of their finest chocolate gateau.

So, there was more gossip and another cup of tea.

"I hope we'll be able to sing after all of this dairy," said Ginnie. "There's a load of cream in the gateau on top of what was on the toast."    

I hadn't thought of that. In fact, I'm not sure that I'd even known before that day that dairy food isn't good if you have to sing.

I looked at my watch after we finished our gateau. "I think we'd better get going," I said. "We can leave the washing up. I'll do it when I get back."

We'd really got plenty of time. I'd got a sat nav anyway, so there shouldn't be a problem finding the place. But I always like to get to places in good time in case there's any problem parking or finding exactly where we were meant to be. It's always reassuring, anyway, to chat to the others. That helps turn nerves into excitement.          

The gossip continued in the car. The sat nav told me it would take fifteen minutes to get there and we were due at the venue in half an hour so we really had plenty of time.

We were to sing at a formal dinner for some of the local dignitaries in a beautiful recently refurbished old mansion. It sat in the grounds of one of the biggest public parks in the neighbourhood and I'd actually driven past it several times. I felt fairly confident. And indeed, less than ten minutes after we'd set off we could see the park.

"Take the next left," said the sat nav.

I couldn't see a left turn at that point and I could see on the map that we were now driving away from where it was telling us to go. I must have missed the turn.

Three times we drove round the block. Then I stopped at the point where she told us to turn left. It was an entrance to the park all right; a pedestrian one.

"She's trying to make us go up the foot path," I said.

"Haven't you got an A-Z? That would show the entrance for cars, surely."

I shook my head.

"Oh dear," said Ginnie, "you do know that you should always back up digital with analogue?" Come on Ginnie, this isn't the time for philosophy.  

 We then drove round what we could see of the park. 

"Can you see anything?" I asked Ginnie.

"No it's really weird. There must be a way in somewhere. Oh look. Let's ask them."

A young couple were walking their dog. I pulled up next to them and pressed the button to open Ginnie's window.

"Excuse us," said Ginnie. "Can you tell us how we can get into the park? With the car?"

"Oh yes," said the man. "You need to take the next left and then about three hundred metres up the road you'll see the drive way. It'll take you to the car park just in front of the mansion. It looks as if there's something on there tonight so you should find it easy enough. It's all lit up."

Well, yes, it would be.

"Thank you," we both cried.

 A few moments later we pulled into the only remaining parking spot. We grabbed our stuff, locked the car and rushed into the building. It was obvious where we meant to be. We just followed the sound. They're already stated rehearsing.

I hate being late for anything. And then Ginnie has to go and embarrass us. 

"Sorry," Ginnie mumbled to Rob, our musical director, "Only we've been eating grilled cheese."

Pardon?

Rob nodded and frowned. I'm not sure whether he was pleased we'd arrived, irritated that we were late or completely flummoxed by what Ginnie had just said, or all three.     

In the end the performance went well. Maybe we were helped by Ginnie's red wine and my cranberry juice - I was driving and with the strange way the sat nav was working I needed my wits about me. Perhaps they counteracted the effect of the dairy produce. My dad used to say that you should gargle with red wine before you sing.

But we were offered drinks between our rehearsal and our actual performance and Rob said at one point in the rehearsal "I never thought I'd ever have to say this but can you take it down a notch, altos?" He was more wont to complain about us not singing loud enough. And this was before we'd had the drinks.

Our audience was very appreciative though I'm still puzzling a little over what the mayor said to Rob: "It's really amazing what you can do with the material in front of you." Exactly what sort of material were we and what exactly had Rob done to us? Wasn't some of it down to us? He is a good musical director and teacher but even so.

There was a bit fun at the end of the evening when we went back to the room where our valuables had been stowed. Someone had gone home with the key. We had to wait a good half hour whilst someone went to fetch it.

"See, I told you," said Ginnie. "Eating dairy before a singing gig is bad luck. First we get lost, then the mayor implied we're poor material and now they've kidnapped our stuff."

So, it's not a physiological thing then but a regular superstition? And anyway she'd enjoyed my special toasted cheese so much. And the gateau.          

Our trip home was uneventful.

"Drop me at the tram stop," said Ginnie. "I don't trust that sat nav thingamabob. She'll drive us into the Irwell. Do yourself a favour and get an A-Z."

So I took her to the nearest stop, just round the corner from the entrance at the park. Then I drove home. The sat nav worked beautifully. 

There was one problem though, when I got back to the flat. I had to do the washing up. The cooked cheese sauce stuck stubbornly to the plates. So perhaps Ginnie was right. Never eat grilled cheese before you go to sing because you won't have time to wash up and your plates won't ever be the same again. 

Better than giving in to mere superstition.

Though I have to concede the remains of the chocolate cake were just as stubborn.  

On the other hand I worry about Ginnie and my sat nav; whenever she's been in the car it's gone wrong. When we went to a drinks party at the Vice-Chancellor's home it took us to an industrial estate. We were going to an academic conference and we ended up at an out-of-town shopping centre. Even the first time I went to her home it dropped me in the next street to hers.

I think I'll get myself an A-Z just in case. Do they still exist?