Small Medium Or Large Sir?

Now you would imagine that with a title like 'Stories From The 'Spoon', all you would read about is spoons. You would be wrong. The blog isn't about spoons, the title doesn't even refer to a literal spoon, and I usually have little cause to mention them. But when i see something quite exceptional, spoon related or otherwise, I feel a need to share it with you.

It had been an unfulfilling meeting. I was plodding across the bridge taking in the scenery, trying to shake off the dissatisfaction the morning had brought, when I decided to stop for a cup of tea. An expensive hot beverage from a huge American chain was sure to invigorate me, breathing some life into my day. Ahead of me were some cheerful, brightly dressed, clipboard wielding beings accosting pedestrians, no doubt in an attempt to extract monies for their good cause. I increased my pace, trying to make my walk appear more purposeful. Can't they see I'm busy? A do-gooder intentionally blocked my path.

"Get out of my way!" I demanded, wading through the young man's abundance of enthusiasm. "I'm in a hurry."
I took two or three more steps of angry walk then ambled off into a coffee shop for an important meeting with myself.
Soft New Orleans style jazz was being piped through the room infused with the strong aroma of coffee beans. There were a few tables free, and some comfy leather chairs available at the far end. I knew where I was going. I ordered a tea, hesitating for a while on the choice of small, medium or large. Well how did I know how large the cups were? I'd never been here before. I took the safe option of medium, paid, then carried my cup over to the bin to dispose of the tea bag.
I crossed the room, passing the two other customers. An extremely old man to the left, who appeared to be nursing a near empty, small cup of tea. To the right, a man with a huge bushy beard. It is worth mentioning that this beard looked almost too perfect. I suspected foul play.

It was only after I eased myself into the comfy leather chair that I became aware of something strange. In front of me, a perfectly ordinary scene. A cup of tea, a saucer and a spoon. Yet something seemed proportionately wrong.




The cup, the saucer, the tea. It all looked fine. I shrugged it off thinking it was a consequence of sleep deprivation, a trick of the mind. I picked up the spoon to stir my tea, and could not believe my eyes.




It was the largest tea spoon I had ever seen! At no point did I remember ordering a medium tea with an extra large spoon. I searched my wallet to check the receipt. It had not been itemised. I looked around and observed that neither Old Man nor Fake Beard had spoons this large. I know I'm not very wise with the language of coffee shops, but had I inadvertently requested this?




Puzzled at why I was given such a spoon, I started thinking that this may be a freak of Spoonkind. Perhaps an accident at the spoon factory, or someone's idea of a joke. But then I began to wonder whether I was seeing this from the wrong perspective. Was it an exceptionally long tea spoon, or was it simply a dessert spoon with an incredibly small head?

It makes you wonder what else is out there..

Ring Ring

Everyone I've called today, be it business or pleasure, has failed to answer the phone. I've spent the whole day speaking to various answer phones, and none of my calls were returned.

I tried calling myself just to see if I would answer. I diverted my call to voicemail.

The Deceptive Stain

This morning saw my usual hurry to get out of the flat. Once again I left it until the very last minute to crawl out of bed, then bleary eyed I jumped into the shower. I didn't actually jump into the shower, that would have been a pointless waste of energy, wouldn't have saved me any time whatsoever, and could have been dangerous. But that's just what people say.

When satisfied that I was sufficiently clean for the day ahead, I back-flipped out of the bathroom and headed for my room to dress. I picked up a clean long-sleeved-jumpery thing from the radiator where it had been drying and put it on. This had been removed from the washing machine the previous evening and smelt extremely fresh. I must emphasise its freshness. It was very clean and fresh.

When dressed, and not a moment before, I cleaned my teeth before leaving the flat. I was halfway up the hill to the station, when I noticed a long white stain on my otherwise fresh and clean jumper. What was this? I had managed to stain it within minutes of wearing it. It must have happened when I was cleaning my teeth. Without altering my pace, because I really did have a train to catch, I emptied some water from my bottle into my hand and proceeded to rub on the stain. Hey Presto! It disappeared. Easy!

But I've been here before. The toothpaste stain is a complex one. If you soiled your clothing with most other things, you would either be able to remove it quickly, or not. It would be instantly apparent. The toothpaste stain however, gives the illusion of disappearing right before your very eyes, yet somehow it returns later in the day.

I arrived at the station and bought my ticket from the machine, smiling to myself smugly at the queue of people who were waiting for the attention of the man in the ticket office. I hopped down the stairs to the platform, then looked down to find I was still wearing toothpaste. It was back once again, bold as brass, like it had been there all along. This prompted another attempt to remove the troublesome, and frankly devious stain. I scrubbed a little harder than before and for a little longer. Surely this would be an end to the matter?

Two more times during the day I tried and failed. As I type, the toothpaste still has a weak hold on my clothing. How is it so difficult to remove? How does it give the illusion of disappearing for a period of less than an hour but more than ten minutes?