At mid-day, when I had returned from walking the dog, Sally
from across the street was seated in my lounge chair. She had come across to say goodbye for the
last time. She had disposed of her
mother’s house and new owners were moving in at the end of the month. “Sorry to
see you go” I said. The words rang
hollow because I hadn’t really made effort to get to know her at all. I sometimes spoke briefly to her when I was
out washing the car, but the conversations were so banal they might have been
on autocue. I knew I would never set eyes on her again.
At tea-time, I heard the doorbell ring. I answered the door. The next-door-neighbour, Carol, stood on the front step. She held a package in her right hand. She and her husband Bob had moved out just before Christmas and we now have new neighbours, one of whom I understand is from theland of Mussolini
‘You dealt with their wheelie bin when they left, before the new neighbours moved in,’ my wife said, but as that consisted of trundling it three yards each way once a week, it hardly seemed to warrant the title ‘good neighbour.’
One thing was for certain - I knew I would never see Carol or Bob again, either. It had turned out to be a splendid day for goodbyes.
I opened Carol’s package. It comprised a box of Belgian chocolates.
‘Where’s the caramel?’ I asked.
‘There isn’t one,’ my wife replied. ‘These are Belgian chocolates – top quality, not your usual ‘Dairy Box’.
I looked at the list of chocolates. The names were all in French and most sounded like perfume. ‘What the heck’s ‘Framboisine?’ and ‘Tonka’ for heaven’s sake?’
‘If you look at the back you’ll see that each is described’, said my wife. She was correct. Framboisine was listed as ‘raspberry infused ganache and delicate dried raspberry pieces.’ I ate one. It tasted like rose-hip syrup. Tonka was a ‘delicately spiced, velvety, Tonka bean flavour ganache.’ It tasted like mayonnaise with added sugar. I looked up ‘ganache’ in the French dictionary. The direct English translation is ‘fool’.
‘Yes, so is anyone who forks out for this lot,’ I said.
It was the same with ‘Agrume’, ‘Velours,’ ‘Exotique’, ‘Cacao’, ‘Tentation’ and ‘Romantique.’
I was obliged to sample each one to ensure that I could comment properly on the flavour. They all tasted quite beastly. Eventually, there was only one chocolate left in the box. It was ‘Caresse’, which turned out to be ‘indulgent dark chocolate mousse covered in milk chocolate.’ It tasted like hair-cream. ‘You might have left one for me,’ my wife said.
‘Who’s the good neighbour?’ I replied.
The sound of retching could be heard long into the night.
At tea-time, I heard the doorbell ring. I answered the door. The next-door-neighbour, Carol, stood on the front step. She held a package in her right hand. She and her husband Bob had moved out just before Christmas and we now have new neighbours, one of whom I understand is from the
‘You dealt with their wheelie bin when they left, before the new neighbours moved in,’ my wife said, but as that consisted of trundling it three yards each way once a week, it hardly seemed to warrant the title ‘good neighbour.’
One thing was for certain - I knew I would never see Carol or Bob again, either. It had turned out to be a splendid day for goodbyes.
I opened Carol’s package. It comprised a box of Belgian chocolates.
‘Where’s the caramel?’ I asked.
‘There isn’t one,’ my wife replied. ‘These are Belgian chocolates – top quality, not your usual ‘Dairy Box’.
I looked at the list of chocolates. The names were all in French and most sounded like perfume. ‘What the heck’s ‘Framboisine?’ and ‘Tonka’ for heaven’s sake?’
‘If you look at the back you’ll see that each is described’, said my wife. She was correct. Framboisine was listed as ‘raspberry infused ganache and delicate dried raspberry pieces.’ I ate one. It tasted like rose-hip syrup. Tonka was a ‘delicately spiced, velvety, Tonka bean flavour ganache.’ It tasted like mayonnaise with added sugar. I looked up ‘ganache’ in the French dictionary. The direct English translation is ‘fool’.
‘Yes, so is anyone who forks out for this lot,’ I said.
It was the same with ‘Agrume’, ‘Velours,’ ‘Exotique’, ‘Cacao’, ‘Tentation’ and ‘Romantique.’
I was obliged to sample each one to ensure that I could comment properly on the flavour. They all tasted quite beastly. Eventually, there was only one chocolate left in the box. It was ‘Caresse’, which turned out to be ‘indulgent dark chocolate mousse covered in milk chocolate.’ It tasted like hair-cream. ‘You might have left one for me,’ my wife said.
‘Who’s the good neighbour?’ I replied.
The sound of retching could be heard long into the night.
