I go to the supermarket 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. Head down, I charged to the pharmacy aisle with as little looking around as possible.
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. 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.
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.
But how many do I need to eat?
If the ratio of tradition is one mince pie for one month good fortune, I have no problem. If it is a weekly ratio, then 52 between here and Christmas seems a little much. Even I would struggle with eating over a dozen a day…
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?