Skip to main content

Parmesan Cheese And The Aladdin's Lamp

Being a compulsive writer—in the sense that I write, I enjoy it and I can't stop doing it—I am convinced that our mind is 'the Aladdin's lamp'. All we have to do is tickle our brain and off we go: a puff of smoke containing every possible dream and desire comes out, ready to be unravelled in front of our very eyes. With a stroke of my hand i touch my Aladdin's lamp waiting for the genie to come out of my ears. It doesn't matter where I am, it can happen anytime, anywhere: while I am sitting on the bus, queing up at the supermarket, buying a sweater or chopping onions; not that I buy sweaters or chop onions that often.

...One night I found a big piece of cheese, perfectly sealed in its airtight plastic wrapper, on top of a letter box in Wimbledon. I recognized it immediately it was a gigantic piece, slice, chunk of Parmesan  glowing under the reddish-orange street light. How could anyone have missed it? Parmesan cheese under a spot light! It could have been the setting for a new add. At first I walked passed it and carried on, but a relentless voice inside my head kept saying Parmesan cheese, Parmesan cheese, Parmesan cheese incessantly. I turned round and rushed back to the letter box, as quickly as possible, and pocketed the cheese, still there waiting for me. As soon as I dropped it into my rack-sack I regretted it immediately. What was I doing picking up cheese that had been sitting on a letter box? Was I crazy? What if someone had poisoned it to teach a lesson to people like me? But it was too late to change my mind, I was already sitting on the underground train heading for North London.  How did the story end?
(1st ending) I must confess that I never did ate the cheese, it went down the rubbish bin the same night. What can i say in my defense? Quite simply: I just couldn't resist picking up a big lump of cheese sitting on a red letter box!
(2nd ending) The cheese sat in my fridge for a few days before I could eat it. I nibbled a little piece at first and waited anxiously for 24 hours  wondering how long it was going to take before I had to be rushed to the local hospital. But nothing happened. So I enjoyed the rest of it and decided that after all it had been a risk well worth taking!
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ageism and Women

In the last couple of days a debate about ageism and women broadcasters has been going on TV and all the major newspapers in the UK. A well known BBC presenter dismissed from her job because of her age (over 50), at least so she claims, has submitted her case to an employment tribunal  and has won it for unfair dismissal. Such a victory should worm every woman's heart for a few seconds at least. But does it? Ageism towards women starts at a very early age. Remember the old song "Sweet Sixteen"? If you were in your 20s at the time you probably thought that your love life was already over and that men were too busy chasing after 16 years old in school uniforms to even notice you in your jeans and old jumper. In my opinion ageism is not the right word, reality is much uglier then that. What if you are young but are not, shall we say, "photogenic" (remember this word?) could you ever become a TV presenter. I think not. If we make a list in our head of all TV presen...
Post a Comment
Read more

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

  I received my last Valentine day’s present eons ago but it was definitely the best I’ve ever had in all of my life. The doorbell that sounded like a broken carillon rung at around 2pm. He was standing at the door with his left hand hidden behind his back. What was he hiding from me? Was it a bunch of flowers? Maybe they were the plastic variety that grows in DIY stores, like the ones he had given me a couple of years earlier and had made me lough so much, or was it a pot of yellow miniature roses, like the ones still timidly growing on my window sill? Not it was it the Japanese cake from Piccadilly Circus. I was trying to guess when suddenly an unnatural looking green stem with some red lacy petals on top materialized in front of me. I took the rose and jokingly put it under my nose, it had a strong and tacky smell, and thanked him. He smiled. I knew there was something else I wasn’t getting.  What was the joke? ‘Thank you’ I said ‘ I didn’t expect a pres...
Post a Comment
Read more

LADY CATERINA (a day in the country…estate)

When I was about 12, Lady Caterina, that's how we addressed her, took me, my sister and her nephews, who happened to be my cousins, to an old country estate partly in ruins, which had belonged to her family since 1861. My cousins and I used to spend a lot of our pleasurable time with her and we loved her very much; everything about Lady Caterina was fun and an adventure. She could be bossy at times −used as she was at giving orders− but she laughed a lot and liked children. The appearance was that of a prima donna and her manners matched her looks: her silvery hair had a strange touch of purple, she talked incessantly in a high pitch voice and was always ready for action, which could take the form of an exquisite cake, a trip to the country or improvised sonatas on the grand piano in her sitting room. That day she came around with her driver in her big car and took us to a sunny, remote and enchanted place. There, the smells and the light, the barking of dogs and the whis...
Post a Comment
Read more