Talking Point with Vicky Turrell: Puddings, pot holes and lost property

I stared longingly at the pudding. It was a tempting sponge cake with lemon drizzle and blueberries. It looked delicious.

“Sadly, the blueberries sank when I was cooking. I couldn’t believe it when I saw what was happening,” said the cook at the café, looking dismayed. I was not too worried about where the blueberries were, so long as I could eat them.

“No, you can’t eat it yet, because it will spoil your appetite,” said the waiter. “You must eat your pea soup first, when it is ready.”

But it was not ready yet, so I had to sit there and watch and wait.

As I waited, I remembered our meals at home on the farm all those years ago. Grandma lived with us and her word was law. She served rice pudding first and we all had a big bowl. That was to make sure we were not too hungry for the next course and did not eat too much of the expensive meat, which was reserved for the all-important farm workers.

A man came to wait with me. I had a stall with my fellow writers at a craft fair (another one). He showed me his knitted hat, which he had just bought from a crafter and was very proud of. It had cost him £20, he said, so he could not afford to buy anything else.

I did not tell him about my tea cosy hat, which I have recently abandoned in favour of something more fashionable, even though it is warm.

We are all thinking about keeping warm these days. A person I saw sitting on a bar stool in the corner of the pub was full of remorse.

“I’m in the doghouse,” he muttered as the landlord piled the logs high on the grate. The flames roared.

“I only touched the burning wood at home with the poker and sparks shot out. They landed on the new carpet and burnt some holes.”

His wife was devastated. I remember this happening at our cottage. I was lucky because the carpet had an intricate pattern and the burns were not easy to see. Once, I even got a felt-tip pen and drew in an extra leaf, which was really another burn mark.

Their carpet was a plain one. The husband has a plan to use some of the spare material left over from the carpet fitting and cut pieces out to stick in the holes. I do not think his plan will work. He will never retrieve his mistake.

Our blue recycling bag has never been retrieved either after it blew away in the gales. But the council has delivered us a new one, so all is not lost.