Sometimes I feel like Goldilocks from Goldilocks and the Three Bears except there are no bears and all I want is some porridge and a nice place to nap but I’m in someone else’s house and I don’t know where to find the honey or if they even have any soy milk. This bothers me as I am always having to drive into the abyss that exist between Blackwood and Trentham to buy some more honey for $6 a kilo or send my mother to go and get it and I am always on edge when my supply is running low. But that is just the price I have to pay for the best honey in the state. Sometime I wonder if my life revolves around the sweet sticky goo that is magically produced by tiny buzzing insects in the back blocks of the Wombat State Forrest. But then I remember that eating something every day is not the same as worshiping it. There are so many better things in this world that comes in slabs than beer – like honey – but also mangos, as I discovered yesterday. A slab of mangos at the Coles in Bega was only $19.95. The four of us could each consume a mango every day for five days and still have two left over to appease my parents. The mangos themselves were from Queensland which is where sunshine is made. What else comes from Queensland? Roller coasters and strange men who live in tepees and only come out at night to utilise their vast collection of dried herbs – but that’s another story altogether. Sarah tells me that the honey comes out of the bees feet and they stomp it out (she demonstrates this theory quiet matter-of-fact-ly), which is strange to me as I always thought that it came from their bum (or bee-hind), which never stopped me from eating it, but what do I know about it anyway? I recently watched a movie about bees and perhaps I would have more knowledge on the topic if I hadn’t been mixing honey into a cup of hot chai at the time they explained all that. So I guess the bees get to keep their precious secret from me in the end after all. But now I’m Goldilocks again and I feel bad asking for the honey because the porridge I’ve been given should be enough to sustain me, why should I need anything more? They don’t have honey at all and now my gracious host feels bad that the meal they have spared me is not adequate. And then I remember that I need to be a bit more grateful and a bit less picky. After all the world is not here for us; we are here for the world.
RJ
