We should have eaten them sooner

Would that we had. But alas, 'twas not to be. Maybe we're not so unusual. I mean, have you eaten all the mince pies in your house?



Are mince pies a local or an international delicacy? Really not sure, tell me if you don't know what they are and I'll elaborate, but for now suffice it to say that I made too many. I think I was over compensating for my lack of festive preparations. Like no one would notice the lack of presents and decorations if only I had enough mince pies. So I baked:




and I baked:




and I baked some more:




So maybe what happened was my fault. Yes that will be it. It's my fault for getting a tad carried away with all the festive joy and love.


Now, this abundant supply of seasonal delicacies was all very well but they needed to be stored, didn't they? My freezer was already groaning. Every Tupperware container (yes, I really am that sad) was crammed. Not so much as a corner of shelf room in the fridge was available. What to do? But wait! Surely it was only days ago that I won a raffle? Yes, yes! Here is my prize:



If you look closely enough you will see the answer to my storage problems. Right in the centre of this hamper of hampers you may notice something yellow and black? Got it? Good. It was a tin, quite a tall tin. Appropriately tall as it contained two china cups and saucers with giraffe on them, perfect for drinking fabulous coffee from a brand spanking new coffee machine I'm sure. But it's the tin that interests me for now. Like I said, a tall tin, with an air tight lid. Or in other words the quintessential mince pie storage system. Here it is in all its glory:



A lovelier taller tin I think you'll be hard pressed to find.



So today at lunch, when I decided to force feed, I mean serve mince pies to my family again I didn't hesitate to put the tin on the table. After all, it is such a lovely tin, such a lovely tall tin, that why would I hide it way and serve the mince pies from a plate? I mean, why would I?

You just know I'm going to give you a reason, don't you ...?



Picture the scene: Tilly, Jeff, the Captain and I sitting around our pine kitchen table, enjoying some post prandial banter having eaten our fill. Come, come, I didn't say it would be easy, work your imaginations! Mid conversation the Captain bends down, not far mind because he is exceptionally tall, much much taller than my tall tin. A shorter man wouldn't have had to bend at all. Sorry, where was I ... ah yes ... the Captain bends down and rests his nose on the rim of my mince pie tin. Yes, that's right, his nose. On my tin. On my lovelier than lovely, taller than tall, very nice and new, did I mention new?, tin! I stare open mouthed while he moves it back along the tin seemingly wiping his nose on it!


Ahem, I cough gently.


Excuse me, my darling, I say in demure tones, may I just ask ... WHAT, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ARE YOU DOING TO MY TIN?!!!


Eh? he replies, nose still insitu.


STOP WIPING YOUR NOSE ON MY TIN!!!


At this point he does at least have the grace to sit bolt upright and immediately launches into an explanation. Apparently he's not wiping his nose on it, oh no! How could I think such a thing? Er, because you had your nose on my tin?? No, no, he's wasn't doing anything so gross. He was moving it closer so that he could reach it more easily, of course. It just happened to be the perfect height for his nose.


Do you know, I'm not sure what worries me more, that he was absentmindedly wiping his nose on it but was too ashamed to admit it, or that he thought it was perfectly OK to use his nose to pull something closer. Whatever, you've got to admit, it's a worry.

Like I said at the start, we really should have eaten them sooner ...