I drive the 90 minutes or so over to North London see my Dad every week or two, and lately we have taken to going out to lunch.
Last time, he suggested we go to a local Salt Beef Bar that he was taken to a while ago by friends. Never having tried Salt Beef, I was curious to know why it is A Thing, and in the event I enjoyed my sandwich very much.
The poem is based not on the sandwich but on another father-son duo who turned up. The relationship was a bit fraught, and the son’s attitude towards the father was typified by the Son’s impatient challenge to his Dad: “You either want some soup or you don’t want some soup, it’s that simple.” That seemed to demand some sort of response, and none was forthcoming at the time (least of all from me) so here it is.
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