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I find it quite interesting that I post fascinating stories about my adventures in various countries of the world featuring such amazing things as a French cooking retreat and images of Mad Joan but the post that garners the biggest reaction is one that features a photograph of me looking half dead with a cold.
For that reason, let me begin this post by saying that, in usual Gaz fashion, the cold has gone, and I am healthy again. Also as usual, my germs have jumped to Mirinda but, as for me, all is good. Based on past evidence, there’s probably little reason to keep reading.
If you are still reading, let me tell you the sad story of the demise of the perfect aubergine.
So, given I was feeling well again this morning, I headed off for the ICA to shop for dinner. I was making Joey Layer Cake which requires an aubergine of just the right size and weight and was looking forward to the selection procedure.
Arriving at the fruit and veg section, I noticed that there were a lot of aubergines ready for testing. It took a while but, eventually, I found the perfect one and placed it, carefully alongside the rest of the contents of my shopping trolley. I continued shopping with a smile of aubergine contentment on my face.
Eventually I found myself at the check-out. It was a young lad, obviously a part-time Sunday shift, still at school worker. He was pleasant, like all ICA staff and he scanned my stuff with ease. That is, until it came time for the aubergine to take its trip along the conveyor belt and into my trolley.
It never made it.
In ICA, the conveyor belt is divided into two. There is a sort of barrier that goes one side or the other, directing the groceries down each side as required. In order to keep different customer purchases apart, there is a single piece of wood sitting a few millimetres above the belt. In fact, it’s so few millimetres that I’d never noticed before. Until this morning.
You see, as the aubergine started down the belt, the stalk became wedged beneath this piece of wood and was carried, by the conveyor belt, further towards the wrong side. With great tears starting to well in my eyes I watched as the perfect aubergine was reduced to so much smoosh.
I let out a cry of despair and the young lad noticed what was happening. He turned off the belt and tried to carefully remove the now useless vegetable. It was not pleasant to watch as he struggled and his actions became increasingly violent. Still, eventually his youth provided the strength he needed and the aubergine was released and put out of its misery.
There then entailed a discussion about whether I still wanted an aubergine or not. I assured him that I did indeed want an aubergine only not that one. It was decided that he’d finish our transaction and then I could go and get a replacement without paying again.
Having packed my trolley, I then went in search of the second best aubergine. Which I found.
Back at the check-out, I was about to wave the aubergine at him so he knew the mission had been accomplished. He barely acknowledged me. He wasn’t being rude. He was scared. One of the senior staff members was standing nearby discussing various security issues with another member of her team.
I nodded my understanding and left, aubergine safely packed on top of the rest of my shopping.
Back at home, and feeling chirpier than I had for a few days, I cut the grass and installed hooks on the front windows so they could stay open in strong winds.
What a day. Aren’t you glad you’re not an aubergine?
