What's this?
Called the good lady from the kitchen.
I felt a surge of panic which rapidly subsided as I realised I wasn't a teenager anymore and she wasn't my mother who had found my stash of pornography.
I came to the kitchen door.
The good lady was standing there with a jar of brown powder in her hand. I stepped up and took the jar for a closer inspection.
It says Cumin, it must be a herb or spice or something?
The good lady looked puzzled.
But what is it for? Is it yours?
I pursed my lips and made a bubbling custard face.
Erm, it's for curries and shit isn't it?
I said uncertainly as I placed it back in the cupboard.
The good lady grabbed another jar and pointed it at me like a bear's penis.
What about this one then... Fennel?
I took the jar from her, the little seeds within rattling gently. A memory stirred, me in the kitchen, cooking real food. It flitted away again before I could fully grasp it.
You use them in sauces and stuff. I think.
We both looked at them in confusion.
Have you used them?
Asked the good lady with some distaste as if I were nobbing myself with a broom handle.
Again the memory flitted before me.
In the kitchen, I saw myself, chopping slicing, frying, baking. Producing lots of tasty food. Exotic food, spicy food. Amazing food. Sweet, spicy, pickly. You name it, I was making it and the good lady and I were enjoying every delicious bit of it.
Then it faded once more.
Didn't I use to cook a lot? Like every day and stuff? In fact, I did. I baked bread and I cooked sumptuous feast-like dinners every day. I used lots of herbs and spices.
I waved a hand at the spice cupboard, which was brimming with dusty tins and jars of powders and dried things.
In fact, I used every single one of these. They were my weapons of choice in the kitchen.
The good lady nodded, still uncertain. As if she couldn't quite grasp such a world.
I think you are right. But what happened?
She said slowly.
I thought long and hard. In the background Baby Shark was just finishing playing and some other song had just started up with some fucking deranged sounding woman singing frantically about Jelly on a Plate.
We had kids.
I sighed.
Ah.
