Where does yoghurt come from?

Where does it come from?

Where does it come from?

Now this is a subject I don’t give a great deal of thought to, there being much more pressing matters in the world at this moment in time eg. Poor umpiring decisions at Trent Bridge, and should Tulisa leave the country for good (Yes please, and take Dappy and the rest of N Dubz with you.)

However I am obliged to consider it when it raises its ugly head as a topic of conversation one breakfast time. I am sitting with my colleagues on a sunny picturesque balcony surrounded by honeysuckle and jasmine. (To tell you the truth, I have no idea what we are surrounded by, but writers always seem to mention same, so I figure the odds are that there is at least a bit of one or another) enveloping us in their heady scent as we enjoy a ‘continental breakfast’ of rolls they could practise their batting on up at Trent Bridge, fruit and yoghurt.

Whereupon someone announces they can taste ‘the cheese’ in their yoghurt. Now I am a little perplexed at this statement, never having considered cheese to be an ingredient in the humble yoghurt, and express my surprise.

It transpires that the ‘cheesy’ flavour is the result of the fact the yoghurt comes from milk, which as it happens is where cheese comes from too. Well this is news to me, (not about the cheese, but about the yoghurt)

‘Well where did you think yoghurt came from?’

I sense they are trying to catch me out, but have none of it: ‘From the supermarket of course’

‘No, no before that. How is it actually made?’

As I say from the outset, it is not a matter that bothers me much. But after being put right by my fellow diners I am left all day trying to figure how they pour the milk from bottles or cartons into those little pots, or is it squeezed straight in from the cow? Very labour intensive, I conclude. And what about the fruit? How and when does that get in there?


Confused of Ruislip.

This post is sponsored by the Milk Marketing Board and any characters represented herein bear no relation to any persons living or dead.

Chuddy Time


Now, I’m no Physisist … Phisycist … Phycisist. What I am trying to say is I don’t understand much about classical mechanics, quantum mechanics, thermodynamics and statistical mechanics, electromagnetism, special relativity and the like.

But I have been doing a lot of thinking about Time lately and reckon it is just like chewing gum. You can stretch a bit out here and another bit over there, but it is still part of the same piece of chewing gum although it is in three places at the same time.

And so it is. Time plays maddening tricks on you. Events seem to telescope out of all perspective. Things that seem to have happened only yesterday on closer inspection turn out to have been a quarter of a century ago.

It seems like yesterday I was reading bedtime stories, planning daft excursions and being ‘Dad’ to two little fellows who are now grown men.

Memories, like old gum, ambush you when you least expect them, stuck to your pants, shoes, the underside of your table; glueing themselves to your consciousness for ever.


Andy Daly 2013

Well Presented




Ruislip, Well presented, roomy, walking distance to shops, £850 pcm

The Big I Am

A month in the life of Yours Truly (June/July 2008) as seen through ‘Facebook’ status posts.

(Click and then use magnifying glass to enlarge if needed: See if you can spot the joins! I’ve been very lazy – should be easy!)

© Andy Daly 2010


It is morning, and whilst lying in bed, awake waiting for my tablets to kick in, I hear my youngest son in the bathroom (next door) going through his daily gargling routine, This lasts for about 4 minutes:

“scruckshelishelcquerlupwaschushashushscruckshelishelcquerlupwaschushas hushscruckshelishelcquerlupwaschushashushscruckshelishelcquerlupwas chushashushscruckshelishelcquerlupwaschushashushscruckshelishelcquer

lupwaschushas hushscruckshelishelcquerlupwaschushashushscruckshelishe

lcquerlupwaschushashush  …..aaaahhhhgglllleee aaaahhhhgglllleee

aaaahhhhgglllleee  (this is the back of the throat bit)


Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!…………..pwryyyrrtt! (this is the spit)

……………….Heeeeeeeuuuugh! …. pwryyyrrtt!” (another spit)

I am thinking, I’ve got a drum and bass line that would go perfectly with that!

He’s got a routine for everything: a brushing teeth routine, the mouthwash routine (as you now know) the anti-perspirant spray routine (not one to be caught in the middle of !)  The ‘don’t care hair’ routine. You know, I never knew it took so long to perfect that ‘Just dragged through a hedge’ look. Still, …. He is worth it!

Meanwhile, back in bed, I practise my rigorous exercise routine. I open and close my right eye five times, then repeat with the left. As they say: No pain, no gain. That done, I cast one of the aforesaid eyes (the left – as it happens) to the other side of the room and it alights on my walking frame. Okay, it’s a zimmer frame, but it has got ‘Go Faster’ stripes, metallic paint and polished chrome.  I don’t use it much; as you can see by all the washing hanging off it.

I can just imagine it:  The Harrow and Hillingdon Area Health Authority enquiry:

“Mr Daly, would you care to explain to us once again, exactly how you came to break your hip. On the day in question you didn’t use the walking frame that The Health Authority provide you with, because it was (He refers to his notes) ‘Full of washing’ “

“Yes Sir, that is correct, Sir, I …………”

 © Andy Daly  2010


“ Life on Mars” David Bowie. Remember it? Excellent song. On the vinyl lead out track of the 7 inch single, if you listen really carefully you can hear him ask for a glass of water. A bit over-assertively in my view; but I suppose if you’ve just recorded a 70’s classic we can forgive such foibles.

 (I’m never really quite sure what foibles are. I feel they ought to be a Brooklyn Xmas tree decoration made with feathers instead of glass)

 “Say Honey, which day do we take down duh Christmas decorations so we don’t get bad luck? I -yay, yay, yay,  can never remember is it duh 5th oer duh 6th?”

 “Ey How many times stoopid? And make sure  you pack all duh foibles away properly. Dey wereyeruncle Frankies”

© Andy Daly  2010


Recurring Dream 3

I awoke pondering last night’s handiwork: Hanger Lane gyratory system made from Wickes kitchen units. What would Freud have made of it all?

© Andy Daly  2010

Recurring Dream 2

 Last night: Tower Bridge using surplus IKEA parts.

© Andy Daly  2010

Recurring Dream

I am concerned. I had another strange dream last night, in which I had to make another life size version of a popular London landmark. This time  it was the Hoover building using flatpack components from boxes marked MFI!

© Andy Daly  2010