The Great Pumpkin
Time was when being the Vicar counted for something. Gave you a position in society, brought respect with it. Not any longer, it seems.
Last weekend we had our Harvest Festival and Supper. The Supper is traditionally followed by an auction of the fruit and vegetables that have decorated the church, with the money raised going to Christian Aid. It used to be, in the early years of my being vicar here, that if I bid for anything - a jar of David and Stephanie's home-made honey, or someone's pickles, or a home-made cake - everyone else suddenly stopped bidding and fell silent. "The Vicar wants it,' the whisper would run around the room; and that was that.
But not this year. Alison had given me my instructions: to buy one of the two big pumpkins, because she wanted to make pumpkin soup for the PCC Away Day the following Saturday. But I wasn't destined to have things my own way. I was out-bid. By the treasurer himself.
My first thought was that we'd reached a better and healthier situation, where the Vicar isn't regarded as somehow to be favoured with special treatment. That was until I got home and found the pumpkin on the doorstep. It had been too heavy for Joe, so he donated it to the Vicar after all.
The pumpkin was so big, that less than a quarter of it made enough soup for everyone at the Away Day. Alison recycled a lot more by taking portions of it to church yesterday and giving them away to anyone who wanted a piece. And there has still been enough for a number of menu experiments at home. Yesterday: root vegetable crumble. And today: pumpkin balti.
Last weekend we had our Harvest Festival and Supper. The Supper is traditionally followed by an auction of the fruit and vegetables that have decorated the church, with the money raised going to Christian Aid. It used to be, in the early years of my being vicar here, that if I bid for anything - a jar of David and Stephanie's home-made honey, or someone's pickles, or a home-made cake - everyone else suddenly stopped bidding and fell silent. "The Vicar wants it,' the whisper would run around the room; and that was that.
But not this year. Alison had given me my instructions: to buy one of the two big pumpkins, because she wanted to make pumpkin soup for the PCC Away Day the following Saturday. But I wasn't destined to have things my own way. I was out-bid. By the treasurer himself.
My first thought was that we'd reached a better and healthier situation, where the Vicar isn't regarded as somehow to be favoured with special treatment. That was until I got home and found the pumpkin on the doorstep. It had been too heavy for Joe, so he donated it to the Vicar after all.
The pumpkin was so big, that less than a quarter of it made enough soup for everyone at the Away Day. Alison recycled a lot more by taking portions of it to church yesterday and giving them away to anyone who wanted a piece. And there has still been enough for a number of menu experiments at home. Yesterday: root vegetable crumble. And today: pumpkin balti.
posted by Tony at 10/11/2004 08:50:00 pm
1 Comments:
that is so sweet. could it be perhaps that your treasurer Meant to give it to you from the start?
Post a Comment
<< Home