Monday, 3 November 2014

Stolen Figs.










People always tell me I am nice which is the worst compliment. It doesn't say your intelligent, thoughtful, funny, interesting. Just nice. If only they knew the weird shit that goes on inside my head.



These figs are too good to make into anything. A glut of fresh figs is not something I want to taint with anything else but a cup of roobios tea and a mid morning fig feast with my sister. Maybe the second round of figs will become a raw vegan pie but these were foraged to be enjoyed as fresh as possible.

I don't know if it quite counts as foraging when its from a neighbor's garden in the wilds of North East London but I didn't have permission so its either foraging or stealing.

 Before you judge, you should know the overall impression I got was that these people weren't picking their figs. Their garden was a graveyard of rotting figs. What a shame though, if only I could have got unlimited access to the tree I could eat figs to my hearts content.

Yesterday as I jumped for figs the owner of the tree did see me. His wife stared from behind a curtain and he angrily let me into the garden with the words

"Fine. You pick some figs and go. But don't take all of them."

Then he scurried into the house- if you had seen the amount of figs on the tree and equally rotting the ground you would have probably agreed with me that 'don't take them all' was a greedy thing to say. 

I didn't get the impression that I was welcome to go back and pick more figs but I am going to. Today I have a date with a fig tree and its going to be shweeeet.





gone in 60 seconds





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