In the little egg tray just inside the door of the fridge sat the lonely lemon.
Bought in haste one pancake day it had subsequently failed to be used due to a train delay and a headache.
Months went by and the lemon sat and watched as visitors to the fridge brought with them new arrivals or removed and used so-called favourites such as milk, cheese and English mustard.
Lemon had a friend for a short while at the beginning, green pesto. However, during a vigorous pasta renaissance in the spring, green pesto once again had its day, resulting in its final hour as an integral component of a spaghetti, boiled egg and pesto afternoon snack.
Lemon was alone, utterly alone. It had infrequently shared the egg tray with a piece of chocolate, but these had been such fleeting visits a full-blown relationship, let alone a casual acquaintance had been impossible.
As far as lemon could remember, no egg, not even for the briefest of moments had sat with it in the unit constructed purely for this purpose. This added to lemons feeling of rejection and the utter futility of its existence.
Time had been cruel to lemon, once vibrant and full of zest it was now a shadow of its former self, a dried up husk waiting for the mercy of a fridge wide clean out.
A clean out that never seemed to come.
Bought in haste one pancake day it had subsequently failed to be used due to a train delay and a headache.
Months went by and the lemon sat and watched as visitors to the fridge brought with them new arrivals or removed and used so-called favourites such as milk, cheese and English mustard.
Lemon had a friend for a short while at the beginning, green pesto. However, during a vigorous pasta renaissance in the spring, green pesto once again had its day, resulting in its final hour as an integral component of a spaghetti, boiled egg and pesto afternoon snack.
Lemon was alone, utterly alone. It had infrequently shared the egg tray with a piece of chocolate, but these had been such fleeting visits a full-blown relationship, let alone a casual acquaintance had been impossible.
As far as lemon could remember, no egg, not even for the briefest of moments had sat with it in the unit constructed purely for this purpose. This added to lemons feeling of rejection and the utter futility of its existence.
Time had been cruel to lemon, once vibrant and full of zest it was now a shadow of its former self, a dried up husk waiting for the mercy of a fridge wide clean out.
A clean out that never seemed to come.
5 comments:
Brilliant.
poor lemon. I think it's cousins have been to visit in my fridge a time or two... for the same length of time as well.
Lemon should come to my fridge. It could become lifelong friends with tub of unidentifiable green goo and strange foil packet of unknown origins.
You've been speaking with my crispers....
you DO think of some odd things huh? You could always take lemon and consume him in your tea n'est ce pas?
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