If you’re wondering what a Flump is then you’re not alone. Are they a kids TV show? Are they little marshmallow things? Is it the name of someone suing an ISP? So what the hell is this elusive Flump? Well, the answer is . . . .all of the above. But for my purposes, a Flump turns out to be a twisted marshmallow thing that looks like it contains enough sugar to satiate a whole group of 8 year-olds for at least a few hours. So why am I talking about Flumps? Because I was asked to go on a quest, which turned out to be of LOTR proportions, for these elusive Flumps. I won’t say who they were for (ahem . . . ldsant . . . ahem) but this “person” has been good to me in the past so I was happy to do my best to track these Flumps. The problem is that even though my girlfriend says that I have hobbit-feet, I am not a hobbit and would have given up somewhere right before the snowy mountain. Fortunately, like Frodo, I had some encouragement from the people around me to keep on keepin’ on.
The first stop was the Henley Waitrose. Everyone has little idiosyncrasies (like Flumps, for instance), and one of mine is Waitrose’s unfiltered sunflower honey. Last time I was in London, I got two jars but unfortunately I was forced to check my bag on the flight back to Los Angeles. Yes, you probably guessed . . . my two jars became about a hundred pieces of sticky glass. Okay, so I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer at times, but I admit that my alternative was tossing them and frankly there wasn’t anything in the bag that would be irreversibly harmed by a bit of bee goo. Although I had short lived success in a jar of honey, my quest for a Flump was not to come to an end. “Try Woolworths”, the lady says, so to Woolworths it is. Woolworths knows of this elusive animal but they are all out of them. How? Why? No clue. Apparently an unexpected run on Flumps from the country that eats beans for breakfast. Proof that there is truly no accounting for taste.
At this point, I have given up. Rocked in a world of defeat. But have no fear!! The heavy artillery has arrived . . . in the form of an engineer! Engineers are born to solve problems and this was no different. The first order of business is to go next door to the book shop to ask the book keeper what is a Flump. To our great surprise, the rare book seller did not know what a Flump was or where to find one so we headed back to query the second most reliable source . . . the Internet. The Internet is a wonderful thing. Within a matter of moments, you can laugh, you can cry, you can be excited, you can be disgusted, and you can be amused. Often, all on the same website. After searching through endless websites dedicated to a kids television show and a site detailing a lawsuit, we get one step closer to obtaining a Flump when we are able to get a photograph. Unlike photos of the Blair Witch or of Sasquatch, these were fairly clear and identifiable images.
Now with some help, my hope for success is once again renewed. Our first stop was the local Tesco. After transacting with a completely apathetic clerk with stereotypically bad teeth and an even worse attitude, we located an endcap with about 30 different candies. There were chocolates, there were chews, there were other teeth-rotting delicacies, but there were no Flumps. The next conversation was one of those that in retrospect can only make one laugh.
“Excuse me, do you have a confectionary section other than what we see here?”
“No, sir, this is all we have. Is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”
“Yes, we are looking for something called Flumps.” (showing picture)
“I don’t think we have those but come look over here.”
We are led to an aisle of more candy than at Willy Wonkas. Now, I don’t understand how that didn’t count as a confectionary section (a word I would not have used but not one that I expect to have garnered such confusion), but apparently whatever type of section it was, we can say that it was not a confectionary section. Irrespective of what to call it, however, the aisle was Flumpless. There were other marshmallowy things that looked equally as repulsive, but I have learned my lesson about substitutions in this case. They will just not do.
With the suggestion of speaking with the apathetic clerk, we head back to the “customer service” counter. Tap, tap, tap, no Flumps. Maybe Reading. Reading? 10 miles for Flumps? I think not, but I am overruled. I think it became the principle of the matter. So off to Reading we go. Reading is a newish tech town that has no compelling reason to go to unless you have a compelling reason to go. Traffic is usually bad and there are a lot of ill behaved English kids doing various hooligan things. Closed circuit cameras have alleviated much of the hooliganism, however, they have also had an unintended effect of shifting the mischief to the surrounding towns. Add it to the long list of why the surrounding towns dislike Reading. Fortunately, Henley has been largely spared. Probably in part because it’s far enough away to require some effort to perpetrate hooliganism and in part because it’s an older town with many residents with nothing better to do than to watch out for ill behaved children.
The Reading Tesco is like a Tesco on steroids. One would need a map or to drop a trail of jujubes to find the front of the store if a need arose that necessitated visiting the back of the store. We, instead, had a sherpa guide, in the form of a very nice customer service lady, to get us to where we needed to be. Baby, we hit the mother lode! There were not only Flumps, but there were 48 Flumps! (no, I didn’t count. The customer service lady looked on her computer). I have to admit that they looked as bad in person as they did in the picture. Ten packs of Flumps later and a pound poorer, we were back to reality. Or at least as close to reality one can get with a bag full of Flumps on the seat behind.
Past Episodes:
#1: Intro, PHL-LAX-LHR-DXB, Dubai