‘What’s a safety pin doing in there?’ He was staring into the box he kept his ‘needle and thread’ in. There was a solitary safety pin inside. He picked it up, put it on the shelf in the kitchen and muttered, ‘I don’t know, safety pins. What next?’
Later that day, he called into his local greengrocer’s and there, in front of him, rose a heap of pomegranates. ‘That’s why I’ve got the safety pin,’ he smiled with delight, looking round. ‘Did I say that out loud?’
The assistant turned towards him, as he was remembering childish ways of picking the individual seeds out with a pin when they were little. Funny how you forget the small things isn’t it? ‘It’s the best way to eat a pomegranate,’ she called over, across the heap of pomegranates, pears and tangerines. ‘I know’, he thought. ‘Picking each juicy piece on the end of a pin, crunching it in your mouth, savouring all the juice bursting out…’, he was remembering it very well now. ‘I found a pin yesterday,’ he told her, ‘only I didn’t know what to do with it but I do now.’
She looked at him, ‘I was watching tele yesterday. They showed someone making two cuts across the top of a pomegranate and banging it hard on the table and all the fruits fell out. ‘No’, he cried, ‘what a terrible way to treat a pomegranate! Where’s the fun in that? The risk? The encounter? That’s no fun at all.’ She nodded. Still, it would be interesting to see how it’s done. ‘Maybe, next week, you could do some demonstrations? Learn the technique, show it off to your customers. You’d get more people coming back for pomegranates that way, I reckon…?’ He’d already noticed how handy she was with a machete, slicing a red cabbage in half as well as breaking a bunch of beetroot stalks off with her bare hands. He noticed too she wore a diamond piercing in her right nostril.
‘I’ll look it up again and let you know next Saturday.’ ‘See you do. I’ll see you next week, then.’ ‘See you.’