My father used to put tripe in the microwave.
I think insanity must run in my family.
(no need to comment on that BTW) 
I’ve known some people who’ve put it in academic papers…
You don’t sound very happy 
Warning: There follows a Deviation from Topic
As a teenager, I found a wallet in a park and duly took it to the police station. It didn’t contain very much, a few shillings (yes shillings) a religious picture with a prayer on the back, and a note that contained a name and a partial address.
Several months later, a young PC called to my home and asked for me by name. I had forgotten all about the wallet by then and was initially terrified that the police wanted to speak to me! It turns out the sergeant had tasked this young PC with finding the owner. Bear in mind this was before the internet was invented so the search had started with the A-Z (remember those?) and then looking at other maps and contacting other police forces. The young cop had tracked down about a dozen possible addresses (the street name shown in the note was evidently quite common) only for each to turn out to be a dead-end (pun intended) before finding the right street in the right town, with the right house number and the right family name . . . . . on the Isle of Man.
The young PC was proud as Punch at having solved the great mystery. Looking back, I shudder to think of the cost involved in terms of the man-hours . . . . . .
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Try reading the comments on any article on any subject in a French regional newspaper -
Everything’s Macron’s fault (including the weather).
Despite living in Heaven, the French think they’re living in Hell…
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One of the highlights of being brought up in Gt Yarmouth was the prolifération of tripe and chip stalls.
Most people ate chips and tripe several times per month.
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I think we are all potentially guilty of ‘the grass is greener on the other side of the fence’ syndrome.
That comment is as accurate as I believe the survey to be. I’m totally content and happy with my life in France where I live. Great neighbours, fabulous countryside and peace of mind.
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Gt Yarmouth… scene of my late teenage years… chips certainly, but never tripe.
Lovely place, lovely people… 
It helps to be grateful, I think, and to treat people as if they are kind and well-intentioned.
After reading the daily French Press (and the comments), I discuss stuff with my neighbours… as and when our paths cross.
Yes, definitely some concerns about this and that… but seems there’s a wide range of opinions…
and the one thing we all do agree on is that we are lucky to be living where we are living
It was a wondefful place to be brought up in Stella in the 60s, 70s and most of the 80s but things changed dramatically when a new Labour council doubled the business rates overnight which forced most of the big employers like Birds Eye and the booming offshore industry to move to more favorable areas of the country. Nowadays the town is rated as the eigth most desperate area of the UK.
The hundreds of guest houses and hôtels are now full of asylum seekers and the areas I was brought up in are virtually no-go areas.