2086. Lynnelle, Chutney Queen

There’s no doubt that Lynnelle was the Queen of Chutney Makers in her gated community. Her chutney-making skills were legend. In fact half the gated community would ask that if they got the ingredients, would she make the chutney. Of course Lynnelle always said yes. And so it was that her kitchen, dining room and sitting room stank of white vinegar, and malt vinegar, and cider vinegar, and wine vinegar, and every other type of vinegar, for a good four to five months of the year.

Every week in autumn she would sell her chutneys at the Saturday village market. It didn’t take long for the chutneys made during the week to be sold. Someone suggested she raise the prices but Lynnelle said “it was a community service”.

When a new person arrived in the gated community she heard of Lynnelle’s generosity, and without asking turned up with boxes of vegetables and various ingredients and said she had heard Lynnelle made chutney for nothing and she wanted some. Lynnelle said goodness gracious that’s a lot of vegetables! This lot will take me more than a week to make. And indeed it was a lot and must have cost a packet at the greengrocers.

The new neighbour, whose name was Nancy, said she didn’t like the chutney. She didn’t hand it back either. She kept it and demanded that Lynnelle compensate her for the expensive vegetables that had been squandered.

Lynnelle and the entire neighbourhood told Nancy to go take a running jump. Nancy was last seen at the Saturday village market selling homemade chutney for an exorbitant price.

1919. A gated community

(Hi everyone – I’m possibly going to have a few days off, not from posting but from commenting – as one has to on WP now and again just to keep normal!)

Romualda had lived for a good two months in her new house in the fairly exclusive gated community of Cloudsome Heights. Thus far she hadn’t met a single neighbour. Then suddenly, without knowing who she was, Romualda met Yvette. Romualda was in the supermarket selecting a bunch of Ecuadorian bananas. If there’s the slightest touch of black on a single banana the bunch doesn’t last as long, so it pays to check thoroughly before squandering money on a bunch that would quickly go off. After all, she lived alone. It’s not as if a whole family was into helping to devour them. A touch of black would ruin the whole bunch. And then…

“You must be Romualda,” said Yvette who had just grabbed a bag of pears next to the bananas.

“Yes,” said Romualda, “but I must be honest. I’m not sure if we’ve met. How do you do?”

“You’ve recently moved into our gated community,” said Yvette not introducing herself. “There are quite a few people who are not happy about it.”

“Unhappy about what?” asked Romualda.

“About you moving into Cloudsome Heights, as I just said.”

“I wasn’t aware I wasn’t welcome,” said Romualda. “Is it because I live alone?”

“Goodness me, no,” said Yvette. “We’re not like that at Cloudsome Heights! It’s because…”

“Because what?” asked Romualda, by now slightly rattled.

Suddenly a rather buxom woman pushed her shopping trolley into Romualda.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” said the buxom woman to Romualda. “But you’re blocking access to the bananas.”

“I’m sorry,” said Romualda moving away toward the vegetable section.

“Well?” asked the buxom lady to Yvette. “Did you tell her she’s not welcome in Cloudsome Heights?”

“No. But I’m pretty sure she now knows that a touch of black on a banana will ruin the whole bunch.”