Vegetable Steamer

After a lot of heartfelt thinking and standing on my balcony one night looking up at a star studded sky on my third glass of Montepulciano, I decidedly sadly that the relationship I had been in for about a year just wasn’t going anywhere and it was time to call it a day. It would be difficult and I knew it wouldn’t be easily accepted. Never mind, I sighed, time to move on. Well, anyway, the following day I relayed the message as gently as I could and left it at that, so far so good. This particular person has always kindly brought me offerings over the months from his carefully tended vegetable patch, his marrows are just spectacular. Anyway, it got to around 9pm and I had just arrived home from teaching English when my phone rang. Fishing it out of my pocket as I trudged back home clutching my grammar books and cassette recorder I saw his name flash up on the display. I bit my lip, should I answer....? ‘Pronto.....’. It’s me, listen, I was just up the road, are you home....? Err...well... nearly.....what do you want? He continued.....Can we meet, I just want to see you, that’s all. I sighed.....Look, this isn’t a good idea, I explained earlier, can we just go our separate ways.......? There was a silence. It’s just that I’ve got this bag of tomatoes for you, I picked them early this morning and it would be a shame to let them go to waste. ....I hesitated, he DID do good tomatoes. Cursing myself I answered...OK, but just for five minutes, that’s all. Within half an hour, he was standing in my living room sheepishly holding out a bag of plump tomatoes. I had an uncontrollable urge to rinse them and chop them up into a basil laden salad but held back on the temptation. I’ve missed you, he blurted, pulling out a bunch of spring onions from his jacket pocket. My eyes narrowed, hmmm, don’t think you can win me back with your prize vegetables, I warned him but I was beginning to weaken.... Well, readers, I’m sure you can guess the end of the story. Later on that evening just as he was leaving, he turned to me....oh, I almost forgot. I’ve got something for you. It’s special, I know you’ll love it. My fantasies turned to a delicate jewellery box with a tiny gem inside when opened, or perhaps a weekend away in Tuscany, a romantic dinner for two along the coast even.....I could hardly contain myself. It’s in the car, he encouraged. Walk up to the top and when I drive past, I’ll hand it to you. So there I was, standing under a lamppost with my woolly cardy wrapped tightly round me against the brisk wind that was whipping up. His car suddenly appeared, I felt excited, like a child at Christmas, I stood on tip toes and chewed nervously on the edge of my fingernail in anticipation. Here you are sweetheart he smiled and pushed this massive plastic bag through the car window. What the.....? I thought, grappling with it unceremoniously, barely able to hold its weight. He blew a kiss through the window and sped off into the night. I had to lower it to the ground as it was too heavy to carry. Peering in, I caught sight of a massive pumpkin. I stood there for several moments with a multitude of mixed feelings. Oh well, I reasoned, that’s plenty of soup for winter and Halloween will be a cracker. I had to drag the beast home as it was simply too heavy to carry and by the time I got it back, I was sweating and panting like nobody’s business. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts, I consoled myself, climbing the stairs wearily to bed, a number of pumpkin recipes already starting to crowd my mind.

Opera blues

Aaaah, a typical Italian lunch, imagine the scene, a long table set up heaving with bottles of vino, locally produced cheese, salami, plump tomatoes, just idyllic. I had been invited by a couple for a leisurely lunch along with 10 others. My mother, being in attendance this summer, I thought I would bring her along too. So there we all were, tucking in heartily to the local delicacies when suddenly, fuelled by the vino and grappa, my Mum stands up and announces she is going to perform some Italian opera...as one does.....She then suddenly erupts into a heartfelt rendition of a Verdi opera piece. Silence suddenly reigned, forks poised mid mouthful, as this tiny figure belted out her rendition of a classic masterpiece. My dog started howling but I put that down to hunger pangs, immediately quelled by an offering of leftover BBQ bones....all gratefully received. The performance came to an end amid rapturous applause whereupon the focus of attention fell into a nearby chair and promptly fell into an alcohol induced sleep. I prised the glass out of her hand and thought, OK, I’ll let her sleep it off. An hour later I had her carried upstairs to the hosts’ bedroom where I thought, OK, I’ll let her sleep it off. An hour later she was manhandled into the front seat (passenger seat, I hasten to add) of my Panda, still relatively unconscious and now mumbling incoherently, something to do with Pavarotti and pancakes??? I thanked the bemused onlookers for their hospitality and apologised profusely, reassuring them that my mother didn’t normally get blind drunk and have to be carried home, the daughter, perhaps but luckily that subject wasn’t touched on, at least not this time round. So there I was, approaching the house. Best not park round the front, I thought. I was going to have to drag her indoors with one of her arms dangling round my neck. Please God let her cooperate because if she’s a dead weight, we’re both doomed. I parked round the back and grappled unceremoniously with the former opera singer now fallen from grace. Thank God she isn’t a drunk that lurches into unbridled and barely comprehensible profanity when someone tries to move them. I struggled down the side alley, so far so good. The door was metres away, just need to turn the corner and.....uh oh.....my next-door neighbour’s guests were leaving....now what do I do? This coincided with a sudden and momentary revival of the Sicilian opera, now horribly out of tune, more a Sicilian farce. Shhh, I pleaded, they’ll hear us! The prim elderly couple passed by and peered down the alley. I waved at them cheerily, my Mother now silenced and slumped of course didn’t wave. We’re just going for a walk....! I trailed off wishing they would do the same. They waved back hesitantly, momentarily confused by the scene before them. The dimness of the alley was the only good thing about our encounter. Once they’d gone I wrestled the dead weight to bed. Tut, drunks, no use to anybody, I muttered, pulling the door to her bedroom closed and making a mental note to keep her on the orange juice next time.