It was a hot night. And my mother did warn me never to eat cheese late in the evening.
But why radishes?
*Grace thinks of the kids she knew there, and wistfully wonders whether any of them have ever even seen a radish*
Thursday, 7 August 2008
In which Grace returns to her Place of Former Employment and finds the building piled high with radishes
It was a hot night. And my mother did warn me never to eat cheese late in the evening.
But why radishes?
*Grace thinks of the kids she knew there, and wistfully wonders whether any of them have ever even seen a radish*
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5 comments:
I'm assuming this was a dream.
Radishes, huh? Sharp and biting, perhaps?
Hey, the vegetable metaphor returns!
They took you to a garden where you had an allergic reaction, too, didn't they? Then gave you a plant like the ones in the garden as a leaving present?
Though, more positively, radishes are roots, and nutritious like you say, and radical: not so dissimilar to you, I think. Not to say that you should go back to your roots regularly, but perhaps (excuse the platitudinous sound of this) accept them for the awkward little veg they are...?
Thanks for the laugh... much welcomed.
On all accounts, I'm sure, much truth. Sharp, biting... reminds me of that children's book about the girl who preferred animals to humans and could only cope with people by visualising them as species of the animal kingdom. So, if Place of Former Employment was a radish and the HREF place whose leader wrote that vicious email was a Venus Fly Trap, then what does that make the innocuous-but-friendly C of E from the weekend...? And (returning to a previous post) what constitutes an aubergine of a church?
phalic, surely!
Aah, the aubergine church...
Memory lane. Was it the plumpness? The purple? Or the slight seediness inside? An essence that you just can't put in words... sorry! But phallic, Anonymous? Surely you're not suggesting the church was patriarchal!?
The Vegetable Bede, writing in his 'History of The English Church, People, and Groceries', says:
Innocuous-but-friendly churches suggest carrots, or cabbage, though maybe it's more to do with the way the English cook their veg into a non-descript mush.
Perhaps you need a ratatouille of vegetables, Grace. (Thrashing the metaphor to within another inch of its death, don't forget the other foodstuffs, either.)
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