Do you remember that Friends episode, The One with Ross’s Sandwich, when Ross leaves his “special turkey sandwich with the moist-maker” in the fridge at work, with a note attached to warn off scavenging colleagues, and his boss eats it? What triggers Ross into a definitive rage is not that his boss ate his sandwich, but that his boss says the sandwich was rather large and he threw most of it away.
“My sandwich ? You threw my sandwich away ?”
Poor Ross. It’s free fall into rage, being sent home from work, a trip to the psychiatrist, and tranquilisers. Of course, he was under stress at the time….but still. I know how he felt. I can forgive a person for scoffing that last delicious portion of rhubarb and ginger crumble that I’ve hidden at the back of the fridge, as long as they don’t say, “It was disgusting. I only ate it because I was so hungry.” No names, no pack drill.
This may explain why, when I make 4 jars of lemon curd – nectar of the gods - at enormous expense and some trouble, as I did yesterday,
I don’t offer a jar to all and sundry. I only give it to people who I know will truly appreciate it, such as my old friend Dot, my sax teacher, and my sister-in-law.
This time, it’s going to be just Dot and me. There’s been a lemon curd deficit around here lately and I need to make up.
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