Friday, November 23, 2012

More spicy goings-on in the kitchen

Reached out for the black peppercorns, the lid came off the jar!

It reminded me of once when I saw a woman drop a punnet of blueberries in the supermarket.  They fell through the mesh of her trolley and dispersed across the smooth floor like an explosion of lapis marbles, a fruity super-nova.  She looked around as if she wished she could flee, but there was nowhere to run, the berries were everywhere, and if she had wheeled the trolley over them, the carnage would have been terrible.

On dropping the peppercorns, I exclaimed, gasped, nay squealed. The area of impact seemed far greater than the consequent inch or so of vacant space in the jar would seem to indicate, in the same way that it seemed like far more than a mere punnet of blueberries that spread across the supermarket floor.  Tom came running to the rescue.  Knowing it wasn't as bad as he must have expected from the noise I made, I let him find out for himself and experience the relief that there were no actual breakages, no lacerating shards (it was a plastic jar), no chemicals hazardous to health, involved.

Yet the clear-up was no simple matter, each time one tried to gather any up, further dispersal seemed to result.

Finally he disappeared upstairsand came down with the right tool for the job, a hogs-hair fan-brush, which accomplished the task admirably.


( The upside-down pink plastic beaker in the first photo is the Spider Cup.  It usually has a postcard beside it, I use those which people send me from various global locations when they start looking a bit tired on the shelf or pinboard, considering it a useful way for old postcards to end their lives. Arachnid appears, oop-la, pink beaker over the top, postcard underneath, out of the door with her...)

And that piece of inconsequentiality really is my post for today! 


julia said...

ah, now, dropping soft-fruit in a supermarket is really novice stuff in the embarrassment dept, for maximum impact, a wider disaster zone and much, much more attention, I recommend dropping a bottle of champagne at the till.

The contents will explode dispersing shards of glass and sticky fluids over a large area and you will find yourself surrounded by people making jokes about 'rich folk with butter fingers' and 'better to stick to vimto next time ducks'.

Only really works in Tesco, in Waitrose the onlookers would be advising you of the best vintages and telling you about their w/e's in a chateau in the Loire valley.

christopher said...

One time a pair of young men came into my convenience store. I was working the graveyard shift. I knew they were up to no good but there's only one of me on the shift. What can I do? The one guy has his coat draped across his back on the way out and something's up. As he reaches the threshold, he can't hold on any longer and a half gallon of Carlo Rossi white falls out of his jacket where (no kidding now) you couldn't really tell it was there. Of course it smashed on hitting the floor and they just took off. Me, I just started laughing. I didn't even mind the cleanup and the store didn't get hurt either because when the cap is still solid on the neck, then it is normal breakage and the wine wholesaler foots the bill, not the store.

Catalyst said...

Been there, done that.

Rouchswalwe said...

Now you've reminded me of the bag of previously opened frozen peas I dropped in the kitchen ... imagine this with a cat who immediately had hundreds of little green rolly toys!

Roderick Robinson said...

I prefer to imagine Tom practising as Captain Ahab, albeit in miniature. Come to think of it, has Moby Dick ever figured in Box Elder? You've a perfectly legitimate reason for not giving it house-room (animal cruelty). I rather regret reading it before I learned it was supposed to be a toughie. Just imagine the mileage I could have got out of if I'd waited until blogging became fashionable. Good grief, Lucy, you do encourage a fellow to wander though I note you're defending yourself (sort of) from being inconsequential. The question is whather you're better at that of being ex cathedra. And there I go again.