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Dried fruit….

April 3, 2012

Poppy’s phone is now working and we are in contact so I’ve stopped worrying that she might be in imminent  mortal danger (although I am not thinking about “sofa surfing” and have relegated the concept  to the back of my mind). I have turned my attention to more immediate, important things  – like the state of the house.

Some things I can’t do a lot about unless I can purloin the services of a friendly carpenter – the fact that the conservatory is in urgent need of repair for example.  Some things I can do something about, but don’t really want to – the fact that the house needs tidying and my daughter’s room looks as if a whirlwind has hit it.  My friend Sarah said “You have to tidy her room. She can’t come home to a messy room – that would be awful!” Sarah’s a lot more indulging of her children than I am of mine, but her words struck home. I started to pick things up off the floor.

It wasn’t long before I nosed a strong, slightly off citrussy smell. I found a past its best satsuma. I inadvertently squeezed it and it emitted a little puff of green “smoke”. There was another satsuma in a similar state and a  third one, squashed and dessicated, in a paper bag. Then I found an apple and then the remains of a pecan slice on a paper plate.

More tidying showed that, fortunately, I had come to the limit of the room’s culinary offerings.  I later put them all in the compost bin, but not before immortalising the arrangement in a photograph (while the rabbit upended said compost bin and deftly removed the pecan pie scurrying away with it to a place of safety).

“Funny smell” said Arlo as he walked past.”Poppy’s room usually smells of  nice perfume”. That’s so true.  Poppy may be in Italy, but her dried fruit experiment is very definitely with us.

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