CSI Kitchen - The Jelly Baby Killer

What happened to this poor little fellow?

Perhaps he argued with the other jelly babies about which colour tasted best; perhaps his colour came bottom in a pole of jelly-baby-tasters; perhaps he was a sulky type and ran off to indulge his black mood in a place where no other jelly baby would dare to go; or perhaps littlest dropped him, and then kicked him under the freezer.

He has certainly been there for a long, long time. We have had the freezer for eight years; eight long years all on his own. An isolation long enough for him to sprout hair, have what looks like a toilet accident and decompose. Decomposition for a jelly baby appears to involve a rock-like rigor mortis and secretion of a powerful glue that binds firmly with the underlying tile.

However, a bit of glue and decomposition does not deter four-legged-friend, who bravely conquers both

And crunches up the crystalised baby!

Comments

Colour, Delacroix, flochetage and why don't we all have a go at inventing words

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My beloved boy, how lucky I have been

It's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die ... and I say someone here even though the one in question was a dog - but to us he had character and a place forever in our hearts and was more of a familiar someone than some of the people in our lives. So, I'll start again - it's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die, our senses go into overdrive. We notice things that normally would be part of the background of our every day. We breathe more - or rather, we don't but what we do is notice our breathing more, as we watch his. We pause. We think. We listen to ourselves and our inner voices speak. Memories flood our dreams ... though sleep is fitful. Why am I telling you this? ... ... we lost this beautiful boy today And in the hours before he went, I saw perfect spheres of dew on blades of grass - little orbs holding micro-images of our world; a bumble bee drunk on nectar, yellow-dusted with pollen, resting in a crocus; ten - yes, ten! ...

Life as bramble thicket

Life passing in a fairly content fog of gift wrapping (mild panic - omg, have I got enough for everyone; will they like it; have I got the right bridge pads for mother-in-law?); cooking (friends all being extremely helpful with offers of puddings, mains and starters - apart from the big event, may not have to actually cook much at all); decorating (post fire, post building work); planning of meals with friends; entertaining (music recitals already being rehearsed by Littlest and sister); feeding the dog; ordering startlingly expensive turkey; walking the dog; feeding hungry mouths (eating me out of house and home - realise just how significant a role the school catering staff play in their lives); gardening with dog; and shopping (again ...), when unexpectedly hit by devastating question of what mark if any will I leave on the planet (assuming that I want to leave a mark, which I think I do, because there has to be more to life than working hard, otherwise what is the point of anything...

Walking The Dog

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