The idle ramblings of a Jack of some trades, Master of none

I'm pleased to report (apropos nothing) that Jerome K. Jerome, author of the utterly delicious Three Men in a Boat, to Say Nothing of the Dog!, shares his birthday with me, and that fact alone prompts me to excerpt the following passage, where the impetuous and impatient Harris is desperate for a drink.
I pointed out to him that we were miles away from a pub; and then he went on about the river, and what was the good of the river, and was everyone who came on the river to die of thirst? 
It is always best to let Harris have his head when he gets like this. Then he pumps himself out, and is quiet afterward. 
I reminded him that there was concentrated lemonade in the hamper, and a gallon jar of water in the nose of the boat, and that the two only wanted mixing to make a cool and refreshing beverage. 
Then he flew off about lemonade, and "such like Sunday-school slops," as he termed them, ginger beer, raspberry syrup, etc., etc. He said they all produced dyspepsia, and ruined body and soul alike, and were the cause of half the crime in England.
As I love this book so much, and because it's not just drink that drives people to distraction, I point out that another friend of the narrator had the following experience:
Another fellow I knew went for a week's voyage round the coast, and, before they started, the steward came to him to ask whether he would pay for each meal as he had it, or arrange beforehand for the whole series. 
The steward recommended the latter course, as it would come so much cheaper. He said they would do himfor the whole week at two pounds five. He said for breakfast there would be fish, followed by a grill. Lunchwas at one, and consisted of four courses. Dinner at six − soup, fish, entree, joint, poultry, salad, sweets,cheese, and dessert. And a light meat supper at ten. 
My friend thought he would close on the two−pound−five job (he is a hearty eater), and did so.
Lunch came just as they were off Sheerness. He didn't feel so hungry as he thought he should, and so contented himself with a bit of boiled beef, and some strawberries and cream. He pondered a good deal during the afternoon, and at one time it seemed to him that he had been eating nothing but boiled beef for weeks, and at other times it seemed that he must have been living on strawberries and cream for years. 
Neither the beef nor the strawberries and cream seemed happy, either − seemed discontented like. 
At six, they came and told him dinner was ready. The announcement aroused no enthusiasm within him, buthe felt that there was some of that two−pound−five to be worked off, and he held on to ropes and things andwent down. A pleasant odour of onions and hot ham, mingled with fried fish and greens, greeted him at thebottom of the ladder; and then the steward came up with an oily smile, and said: 
"What can I get you, sir?" 
"Get me out of this," was the feeble reply. 
And they ran him up quick, and propped him up, over to leeward, and left him. 
For the next four days he lived a simple and blameless life on thin captain's biscuits (I mean that the biscuits were thin, not the captain) and soda−water; but, towards Saturday, he got uppish, and went in for weak tea and dry toast, and on Monday he was gorging himself on chicken broth. He left the ship on Tuesday, and as it steamed away from the landing−stage he gazed after it regretfully. 
"There she goes," he said, "there she goes, with two pounds' worth of food on board that belongs to me, and that I haven't had." 
He said that if they had given him another day he thought he could have put it straight.


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