The other day I went out for a couple of carrots and I came home with a job.
There’s a very right-on veg shop close to where I live. In fact…why don’t I just…wave my web wand and do…this. There. So, they are Locavore and they are a social enterprise, who stock and supply locally grown fruit and veg and initiate worthy projects. I go partly because I like the ethos, but mostly because they’re round the corner and don’t mind me rooting about for ages then spending 17p on two string beans and a plum. And maybe the job isn’t actually a job. I’ll be volunteering, putting together their weekly veg bags. As a volunteer, I will consequently be paid in seasonal produce. I’m not sure if TK Maxx accept swede, but we’ll see how this goes. I’m a bit like a kid in a sweet shop over this – true, a slightly weird kid, who prefers sprouts to kola kubes, but you get the idea.
Now, I have a horror of any kind of ill-informed mumbo jumbo, but this randomly welcome turn of events, and how apt it is, made me come over all mystical. I’ve kind of made it my manifesto that this year there’s no plan. No list anywhere, detailing what I’d like to achieve. Just an openness to whatever comes along. Even if there was a list, I’m fairly sure being an intern at a greengrocers wouldn’t have been in at number one. Now that it’s happened, however, I’m astonished that I didn’t think of it before. It’s social, local, and in aid of a good cause – all things which glaze my carrots. Is the universe sending me a message? Can it even text, what with those massive thumbs?
Who knows. In any case, I start my job this afternoon. I’ve pressed my fleece and polished my wellies and am as nervous as a school child and good to go. Let’s see what turns up among the turnips.