“You could sell that loaf for a lot of money at the moment,” I said. “I don’t think so, it’s gone a bit green,” she said. I should point out that I was making a quip and would never sell or condone the selling of food (for profit) on what is basically the black market. What I would champion however is sensible eating derived from sensible shopping. Quite clearly if you have a loaf of bread turning a shade of luminous you have both neglected to eat it, and bought too much of it. What selfish and thoughtless behaviour. The fact that this woman was enjoying a leisurely stroll by the river, chucking fistfuls of crumbs out for the ducks was utterly extraordinary to me. I imagine there are people out there who would eat it, green or not. Perhaps scrape off the worst, pop it under the grill and add a little something to it. Plus there are people in our society who lived through the war and know a little (a lot) about rationing. Not to mention that the less you move the less you need to eat and therefore, the less you need to buy. Which brings me onto daffodils.
About a month ago I saw the most delightful daffodil I’ve ever seen. It was virtually white with just a whisper of yellow in the petals, as though they’d been licked by a kitten. The centre was a brilliant dark orange, that looked almost red, but definitely burnt in its intensity. It was both astonishing and subtle all in one delicate gaze. I didn’t pick it and take it home, I left it for others to enjoy. And we don’t do we? All those daffs exploding around the countryside, some in clumps, some standing alone. How often do people nab them and plonk them in a vase at home? Some people might and you can understand why but, generally I think there’s an unwritten code that we abide by.
In a roundabout way I’m wishing this was how we shopped these days. These new days. Thankful am I that the sun is shining whilst I wait in the queue to enter the supermarket. I’ll have to review my language when I ‘nip to the shops’, ‘pop to …’ wherever – there are a lot of them around me. Not that I mind, if it works it works. Although I do think I was in and out much more quickly and with far less social interaction than I’m getting in what used to be the trolley bay.
The next time you shop, and you glance at that extra box of eggs (my local says three per person. What? That’s 18 eggs who the heck can justify that?) think of the daffodils. If someone else can enjoy half a dozen even half as much as you, leave them be.