A foggy night of ghostly streetlights was followed by another frosty morning. There was little time for photography walking the dog as we needed to visit the shop early this morning. This leads us away from the fields and means I need my hands on the leash, while madam sniffs the news from the canine denizens of the village. As usual, however, I threw the camera on the seat beside me as I headed into work.
For once the traffic moved at a steady crawl… the once when it could, for me, have quite happily ground to a halt. It would have been nice to have had the chance to snap the fox hunting in the field, his fur bright against the rimed grass. Traffic could have remained gridlocked as I watched him stalk and pounce… as it was, at least I got to watch.
Work over, I headed with great reluctance to the supermarket. I go there as seldom as possible at the best of times… and the run-up to Christmas does not constitute the best of times by any stretch of the imagination. It was packed but not manic; even so, and head down, I charged to the pharmacy aisle with as little looking around as possible.
And then I saw them. Mince pies.
I don’t tend to eat a lot of sweet stuff, but mince pies are a weakness.
And a dilemma.
Obviously pastry is bad enough. Add that particular confection of fruits in the centre and they should probably not be allowed within my vision. Definitely not within my reach.
Somehow a pack of four managed to follow me to the checkout.
I love mince pies. I bake
the best good mince pies… or I used to when I had a house full of boys. I could bake two dozen every day and have nothing but crumbs before they were cold. Of course, living with just the small dog, I don’t bake any more except for special occasions. I couldn’t justify baking a dozen just for me… especially as I would only eat them.
On the other hand, there is a tradition that says you should eat mince pies for good fortune through December… that for every one you eat you will have happiness and luck for … now …was it a day, a week or a month? I could use some good fortune… and a fairy godmother if one is looking for work too. And herein lies the dilemma.
No, not the fact that it isn’t December yet… I’m in training. How’s that for reasoning?
The thing is, while I am a firm believer in asking the universe , then allowing things to happen, I am also aware we need to do our part too. So if I want good fortune for the next twelve months, I obviously need to eat enough mince pies.
They only count in December, but that’s okay. A little practice never hurt…
But how many do I need to eat?
If the ratio of tradition is 1mince pie:1 month good fortune, I have no problem. If it is a weekly ratio, then 52 between here and Christmas seems do-able. Even I, however, would struggle with eating a dozen a day for a month…
Meanwhile, I could have sworn there was a pack of four, freshly baked mince pies around here somewhere…
Well, what’s left of them…
Hmmm…If a mince pie (or three) is consumed, leaving no trace of its presence, did it ever exist in the first place and can you called a hog for eating it?