The exercise:
Write about something that is: custom-made.
My sister and I spent the morning weeding a row of strawberries, around the pepper plants, and a mixed row of onions and leeks. Then we came back to the house, gathered what we needed, and headed for the beach for a picnic lunch with Kat and Max.
Everybody had a nap in the afternoon, which was much needed for all of us - especially Max, who is fighting off a cold at the moment. After dinner Kat went out to do some work in the tomatoes and Sue and I hung out with Max on the deck. There was a lot of soccer played, as well as some good times with his toy trucks.
Tomorrow we're back to harvesting for the farmers market, this time for our usual spot on Saturday morning in Penticton.
Mine:
"It's perfect."
"I should hope so."
"And why is that?"
"I had it custom-made for you."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Would you like to see the receipts for all the parts and labour?"
"You know I don't like those annoying bits of paper."
"How else should I prove it then?"
"I don't think you can."
"What, exactly, is the issue?"
"I simply will not believe that you had a spoon custom-made for me to eat ice cream with."
2 comments:
You know your sister isn't unpaid garden help, right? It does sound like she's helping you out with the fun stuff (playing with Max) as well as the less fun stuff (weeding) though, so maybe she's not as badly off as you (almost) make it sound :) Good luck with the market!
Heh, I think the doubter in your story has good grounds for suspecting the spoon isn't custom made, and I'm sure I'd have no patience with receipts either! Nicely told, the flow is smooth and quick and I found myself impatient to learn what item had been custom made.
Custom made
Veronica was in the back room of the South London Antiques Boutique when she heard the tinkle of the bell over the shop door. She wiped her hands clean of clay, checked that the kiln door was closed and the temperature set correctly, and then strolled out to the counter. In the shop a woman in a knitted blue bobble hat was looking at the paintings on the wall.
"'Ere," said the woman, peering up at Girl with a pearl necklace. "Is this a Vermeer?"
"Yes," said Veronica, who'd finished painting it the previous day. "Well, it's possibly by one of his students actually, but getting it checked out costs money and I can't be bothered. I picked it up cheap in a car boot sale in Holland, not far from Delft actually, so I've priced it up as a student piece and if it turns out to be the real thing, well, you got as much a bargain as I did then."
"Coo," said the woman. She reached up a hand towards the frame.
"Don't touch!" said Veronica. "Paint might not all be dry yet."
"Right, right," said the woman thoughtfully. "Well, I'll be honest, that would look excellent in the dining room, but I actually came in to see if you had some antique cutlery."
"Definitely," said Veronica with a smile. "What kinds, what period, and how many?"
"Well, I like the ones with the little shields at the top," said the woman. "It's nice it it's silver, maybe with a bit of colour at the top like, and not too tarnished. I don't want to have to clean it up too much. Mostly forks is what I need actually."
"Two days," said Veronica promptly. "Silver, not too tarnished, nice little bit of cresting on there, can do you sixty forks for say £300?"
"Coo!" said the woman.
"Customise then?" said Veronica. "Stick your initials at the top, or maybe a family motto engraved down the handle?"
"You can find them that accurately?"
"Er, yes," said Veronica in the tones of someone who had a bar of nickel and a set of fork moulds out next to the forge.
"Well, me dad did always used to say There's one born every day," said the woman in tones of awe.
"Perfect," said Veronica with a smile that showed too many teeth.
Greg - she's family. If she's here, she's unpaid help. That's how family works. Right? :P
Veronica seems like a very resourceful woman. And it looks like she's found herself a rather ideal customer!
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