Sunday, February 14, 2010
Ceres, pink, golf ball
The building beneath this cornice and statue of the corn goddess, Ceres, which borders the Pantiles no long trades in corn But on a sunny day, beneath a blue sky, it rewards an upward glance.
In the Farmers Market in Civic Way, there is a stall which sells only potatoes of unusual varieties. I enquire about some, with a dark red skin, labelled Highland Burgundy. Are they good for mashing? "Yes," says the potato grower, " they have a slightly pink colour when mashed. You could make your mash in pink heart shapes for Valentine's day. St Valentine's day, now almost behind us, this is the last time this year that I will report on the odd behaviour which it inspires.
In the middle of an expanse of grass in Calverley Ground, I spot a golf ball masquerading as a mushroom. There is not a golfer in sight, nor anyone practising with clubs. I pick it up, and run my hand over its indented surface. I am a little surprised by its lightness and touched by its whiteness. I toss it in the air. I wonder if I should rub it to see if it contains a genie; or kiss it to see if it turns into a princess. I throw it in the air and catch it. Then, despite its mysterious potential, the precise nature of which still eludes me, I grow impatient and toss it away, for someone more deserving and more in need of a golf ball, to find.