DJ Prendi

DJ Prendi.

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Freudian Recipes

Someone called me anally retentive once.

“Whoa”, i said……………………………….”what do you mean”?.I didn’t know.

I had been talking about the way i enjoyed eating cheese crackers and squeezy cheese.The way i used to lay them all out in a line on a smooth hard surface and proceed to squeeze the tube on one side of the cracker as to make it spin till i had a perfect swirl on it.I looked it up,and apart from the disturbing reference to toilet training,they were right.I was a nerd,with the wikipedia description being someone who goes in to so much detail as to annoy the listener.

Now we all have our little quirks,some good,some bad,(funnily enough its never the good ones that come up in an argument) but i got a few beauties.

Take for instance,the humble cucumber,which i think is nothing short of the devils penis,i hate them,they repulse me,and if a plate of chips were to come into contact with a slice of cucumber,before i threw the chips in the bin i could tell you exactly which chip had touched the slice and probably a few round it as well.

And then there’s the bread,i detest white bread,ever since i was 5 years old when my mum used to get one slice,slap some jam on it,fold it over and tell us to go play.Thing is, our yard backed onto some sort of old coal heap, and one day my younger brother,(who was about 4 years old and nursing a snotty nose) came to the back door still clutching the slice but holding it to his mouth,he was gripping it so tight that the jam and wet bread were happily squeezing through his knuckles and joining forces with the snot and coal dust,i’ll never forget that image,and suffice to say, can never eat white bread again,that is…….with the exception of toast, because brown bread toast is just cardboard with butter on it.

Now i know i’m not alone on this one,this is a common human glitch…Tomatoes..Don’t like em.Love    tomato sauce,love tomato soup,love fried tomatoes with me breakfast……….hate tomatoes.

In fact i could happily turn my nose up at anything with seeds in it,the list goes on,only seedless grapes enter our house,carefully picking pips out of tangerines and spending the best part of an hour separating the white stringy stuff from the orange flesh of a satsuma.

We have a little stand-off in our house as to the very moment a slice of bread can be officially called toast.Personally i like to think if its a nice shade of brown all over,its toasted,if its been under the grill the length of time it takes me to get the milk out the fridge and is still actually bread in the middle…………its not bloody toast.

  As a child in our family you were used to be things being cooked from slightly well done, to a near arson arresting state,

our kitchen was visited more than once by the fire brigade and a poor pizza (including the black plate) was ceremoniously nailed to the pub wall by my long suffering dad.Its safe to say we grew to love the taste of “burn”.

  I saw something on TV the other day which caught my eye,a rare event as i loathe most of the drivel that takes up exactly 37” of my living room,but i’ll get on to that later.Basically after you have made your cup of tea,you drop this large cup shaped thing into your brew,its made from the same stuff as a tea bag,anyway yeah, you drop it in,and then it doesn’t matter what species of biscuits you buy, because if you time your dunk wrong,this amazing bag can just be pulled out of the cup,leaving your brew dreg free.The historic debate about which variety,and how long to dunk to get that tea soaked biscuit heaven is over.FullSizeRender

My daughter seems to have inherited this fussy fashion of eating,and will often turn food down flat if her cheese isn’t cut into neat little cubes,or the butter isn’t spread all the way to the edges of her bread.A good friend of mine once displayed an awesome show of food nuttyness,whilst filling his plate at the local carvery ,his his vegetables were neatly dolloped on one side and his meat on the other but only after dividing the two with a row of creamy mashed spuds that he insisted on applying with an ice cream scoop.

  I know its not just me,we’re all weird,but i go back sometimes and think about the anal comment that i didn’t understand,i do a lot of things for attention,i say a lot of things for a reaction,and i play a lot of records for a reaction.Maybe i’ll get accused of having Munchausens syndrome next.

Niel Halstead hit me on the head with this stunner of a song round about the year 2000,this song “Sailing Man”,is a melancholic dreamer of a tune,and like most great songs is simple but effective.It was only to be heard on the B side of his EP but like another great vocalist Nancy Wallace,will always slip through the net.If you get the chance to hear Nancy’s version of “We Dont Talk Anymore”,do so,i consider it to be the best cover version of any song,and only available on a Tom Middleton compilation album called ‘Crazy Covers”.”Sailing Man” reminds me of when i started creating chilled mixes for BFBS radio,i wanted a sound they didn’t have,and “Sailing Man” was on the first ever mix that i had played on air.

This 13 minutes of madness is a 1978 B side from Dinosaur that i just fell in love with,you just cant tell me what type of music it is.”Kiss Me Again” has no boundaries and is completely nuts,funk,strings,out of tune brass instruments,its all here thrown together in a right old fuzzed up glorious mess.