Whilst having dinner with friends, who
take some level of pride in rearing their own animals and growing
their own produce, I was slightly taken aback when at the end of a
meal recently they produced a plate of rather unappetising plums from
their tree. I couldn’t help but think, as I regarded this dubious
offering, ‘This isn’t like them.’ However, being polite, and
urged to sample the gaping split plums, I took one, only to find out
how wrong, and judgemental, I’d been. They were the juiciest, most
luscious and tasty plums I had ever eaten, and I couldn’t help but
want for more.
The surprise and shame I felt at having pre-judged them on their appearance, and by association my neighbours, in their generosity and eagerness to share, I started to consider some of the battles I frequently fight on behalf of those who suffer needlessly from pre-conceived ideas and prejudice.
Take supermarket produce for example. In their quest to provide us with perfectly formed, evenly sized cucumbers straight as an arrow, or pefectly formed tomatoes, strawberries, mushrooms, potatoes, eggs, you name it, all regimentally lined up in their protective trays, little consideration seems to be given to the cost of this, not just to us, the consumer, but also to the poor farmers who are growing the stuff. They are learning the hard way that nature does not produce the perfect veg., at least not without considerable human intervention. In their efforts to gain and retain the much-coveted right to provide avaricious supermarkets with the produce they demand, and which they insist we want, just how much goes to waste?
On the same day that I had been offered the plums, I had made a rare visit to a supermarket, and on leaving had gone to put some litter in the bin outside, only to spot an entire punnet of peaches that had been thrown away. I shamelessly fished the punnet out, ignoring the look of horror on another shopper’s face, and was mightily pleased on getting them home to find that only two out of the seven were in fact showing signs of going bad. Result.
This led me to thinking about other imperfections we encounter in our daily lives, and often dismiss or disregard those we encounter; the mongrel dog, the disabled person, the person who stutters or is dyslexic, the Heath Robinson contraption made for us by a loved one, the cake that sank in the middle, the jam that didn’t quite set. The list is endless.
So next time you are out and about, seek out the gnarled, mis-shapen fruit and veg, the people who don’t fit the mould, the imperfectly excuted piece of art; embrace them, and enjoy them for what they represent, priceless in their unique individuality. The fact is, that try as hard as we might, life and all that exists within it is far from perfect, but that doesn’t mean it, or they, are not worth our love and attention, and can be enjoyed with gay abandon, if we let ourselves.
The surprise and shame I felt at having pre-judged them on their appearance, and by association my neighbours, in their generosity and eagerness to share, I started to consider some of the battles I frequently fight on behalf of those who suffer needlessly from pre-conceived ideas and prejudice.
Take supermarket produce for example. In their quest to provide us with perfectly formed, evenly sized cucumbers straight as an arrow, or pefectly formed tomatoes, strawberries, mushrooms, potatoes, eggs, you name it, all regimentally lined up in their protective trays, little consideration seems to be given to the cost of this, not just to us, the consumer, but also to the poor farmers who are growing the stuff. They are learning the hard way that nature does not produce the perfect veg., at least not without considerable human intervention. In their efforts to gain and retain the much-coveted right to provide avaricious supermarkets with the produce they demand, and which they insist we want, just how much goes to waste?
On the same day that I had been offered the plums, I had made a rare visit to a supermarket, and on leaving had gone to put some litter in the bin outside, only to spot an entire punnet of peaches that had been thrown away. I shamelessly fished the punnet out, ignoring the look of horror on another shopper’s face, and was mightily pleased on getting them home to find that only two out of the seven were in fact showing signs of going bad. Result.
This led me to thinking about other imperfections we encounter in our daily lives, and often dismiss or disregard those we encounter; the mongrel dog, the disabled person, the person who stutters or is dyslexic, the Heath Robinson contraption made for us by a loved one, the cake that sank in the middle, the jam that didn’t quite set. The list is endless.
So next time you are out and about, seek out the gnarled, mis-shapen fruit and veg, the people who don’t fit the mould, the imperfectly excuted piece of art; embrace them, and enjoy them for what they represent, priceless in their unique individuality. The fact is, that try as hard as we might, life and all that exists within it is far from perfect, but that doesn’t mean it, or they, are not worth our love and attention, and can be enjoyed with gay abandon, if we let ourselves.
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