SONGS AND SCRIPTS AND DUNKING BISCUITS

Have you ever received a kindness from someone that quite frankly you could do without?

The kind of lovely act that makes you want to ask them if they had lost their mind?

A few days ago I gave a neighbour a large bag of baking apples from my tree, which she was delighted about. I explained to her that my freezer was currently packed full of stewed apples and joked to her-  and this is the crucial part – that there is only so much apple crumble one man can eat. She laughed.

My offer of the apples wasn’t a completely charitable act; I was looking to ease part of my problem with my apple abundance that has plagued me for the last two months, during which time I have had to clear rotting apples that have fallen from the tree on a daily basis, either rotting or half-eaten by birds. But there’s many more that are healthy and untouched and I will access during the winter periodically to make pie or, yes, crumble.

I also gave a bag to another neighbour and another to a friend. Job done, spread the love Paul.

But then, yesterday, that neighbour, the very same neighbour I had said to that there is only so much apple crumble one man can eat knocked on my door and I opened it to – can you guess? Yes, she’d made me an apple crumble.

A crumble made of course with my own apples that I had given to her because, as indicated, I had already eaten more than enough crumble.

I took the dish from her and said, in my best incredulous sit-com voice “a crumble. You’ve actually made me a crumble.”

At this point a look, only a trace of a look, crossed her face that wondered if I was being sarcastic. To rescue the situation from teetering into an ‘incident’, I thanked her profusely and began chatting to her young granddaughter who had come along to witness my joy.

I thanked her again, complimented her on the density of her crumble topping and said I looked forward to it. I then closed the door and stood in shock. How could she not get that I had already had more than enough apple crumble?

I did very briefly consider throwing it away but that is a waste of food and a betrayal to my own apples and just as importantly, the neighbour may ask me a question regarding taste and texture. What if then, to pardon a deliberate pun, I crumbled?

So, I’ll do the common sense thing and leave the country, assume a different identity and take up residence where apple crumbles are illegal.

Okay, I’m being ungrateful. I’ll eat it of course and most likely enjoy it and make sure I give my thanks and say how delicious it is. However, should that inspire them to make me another, I will take out my axe and swing it viciously.

That’s right, that damn tree will be coming down.