Watermelon and Cucumber
I’m sitting at my favourite Malaysian joint in Soho waiting for my Singapore Laksa. A man nearby just said the word “umami” like it was a spell. The table wobbles. The air smells like promise and shrimp paste. Hal would say I’m communing with the broth gods. I say I’m just hungry.
We do what we can with what we’re given. Today: having failed an attempt at merging with the crowds at the Trafalgar Square Passion of Jesus play, I ended up with an unexpected hour or so on my hands to just observe.
I’m not sure what possessed me when I had the genius idea of spiritual enlightenment at only one of the most crowded events in London!
I have always had issues with crowds. I remember how, as a child, my mum would take me to the city to have my dental braces fitted. Or to the optician for new glasses.
These were such special times! Mum and I, just the two of us, sitting in the park, eating whipped yoghurt and tearing chunks from a gorgeously plaited challah covered in a generous sprinkling of fragrant poppy seeds.
But this, to get to have this glorious childhood memory, came with a price. And that was the tube. Crowded, reeking of the armpits of people none of whom was any less annoyed with everyone else than I, I would love to go back and tell that little girl never mind darling, you will never get used to this, it will only get worse with age and urbanisation.
Wait, yes, I know what possessed me! It was my Mum! Her text yesterday!
It said: "It's Good Friday tomorrow my Love, but I'm sure you know that."
Let's think about that for a sec. Did I know that?
Not that I didn't know, I suppose I just wasn't aware. Which my Mum of all people knows. So what she really meant was “Now that you are aware, you know what to do... or what not to do...”
Whatever. The point is, now I feel guilty. I guess I will just skip dinner.
Watermelon, with a hint of cucumber. The kind of flavour pairing that feels like it should be offered in a scented candle.
I sip.
The watermelon juice tastes like a memory I’ve never had. Someone—probably Hal—once said watermelon is a fruit in witness protection. I didn’t ask questions.
Where the hell is that Laksa?