Think of something in your house that you are ashamed of. No need to shout about the stash of chocolate you’ve hidden from the kids, or your grey underwear though.
I am ashamed of our fruit bowl. Today it looks like this (again):
Shameful. What message is it sending to my children? That fruit doesn’t matter? Perhaps even more importantly, why do we have such a great big fruit bowl, with its sexy, bright, enticing Aztec design, if it just isn’t pulling the fruit? Why don’t we just swop it for one of those little wicker basket ones you get in caravans, that are only ever used for a week at a time. No, we have to have a huge great bucket of a fruit bowl that we can’t even afford to fill without selling a dog (no one would buy a teenager).
I’m also ashamed, because the only regular additions to the fruit bowl are lemons to enhance our gin. Fruit that nobody wants to eat and therefore it’s not even one of our 5 a day. And the bitter truth is, that the larder isn’t even full of tinned fruit, but full of tonic. The strawberries in the fridge go so well with Pimms.
Occasionally, a mango has been known to fleetingly grace the bowl. Blink and you miss it, because a mango shared between 6 people, that takes about 10 minutes to carefully peel and dice, lasts approximately 5 seconds from plate to mouths. Bananas look wonderful while no-one is eating them. They bring the fruit bowl alive with their vibrant yellow hue and then when people finally decide they would like one, they have turned into brown mush, that on closer inspection nobody wants to place in their school bag. Another fruit for the graveyard, along with the tangerines that have too many pips and the peaches as hard as bullets.
But the lemons live on. The last bastions of hope in the wasteland that is, my fruit bowl.