Day 39 - Olive Oil

We’ve all dropped the odd plate, the odd glass or the odd bowl and watched in horror as it has shattered on the kitchen floor; cursing maybe both at the accident and the inconvenience of having to clean it up. It’s worse when there is liquid involved and so it is not just a simple dustpan and brush followed by a quick vacuum job. But what must be the worst is when that bottle is a nearly full bottle of olive oil. This morning there was a careless trailing hand, reactions slowed by last night’s wine, the forlorn hope it might bounce followed by the shattering of glass and the slow seepage of that amber nectar. Now I know some of you think I am rather careful of pocket, that the cost of that virgin oil is what would perturb me most, but no, well yes, but no. The real cause of my perturbation is the clean up job. Notice the old adage wasn’t there’s no point crying over spilled oil. It’s obvious that our foreparents knew the problems and wept often over similar situations to the one I was faced with now. How to pick the glass from the oil. How to get the slimey substances off the floor, how to make sure it was all gone. It certainly was worth shedding a tear or two. It’s gone now. I hope, unless I’ve unwittingly left a skidpad that means there will be a postscript to this entry recounting how I broke my leg. Watch this space.