Interview someone — a friend, another blogger, your mother, the mailman — and write a post based on their responses.
No friends here at the moment, other bloggers too far away or busy with writing the daily prompt - “hello everyone” - see no answer and I do not know the mailman, it seems to be a different one every day and if Mr. Swiss saw me holding an interview with him he might get suspicious thinking “why is Mrs. Angloswiss having an intensive talk with the mailman?”. My mother is no longer amongst us, and she never knew what a computer was in any case.
So what is left, I am alone, forsaken, no-one to talk to. Even Tabby my feline is busy writing his own daily feline prompt on his pawpad.
I have it. A brainwave.
Here I am in the kitchen of Mrs. Angloswiss to interview one of her favourite dishes from her motherland, beans on toast. Are you ready beans - and toast?”
“Yes, no problem, but please hold the microphone a little to one side. We do not want to splash it with tomato sauce.”
“No problem. Beans why do you always appear on a slice of toast in England?”
“It has always been like that. Grandmothers cooked us that way and so did mothers. We are even famous for being an easy dish for men. Just put the bread in a toaster, heat up a can of beans and there is no danger of burning the meal. We beans belong on toast, toast is our partner, although it has also happened that we have been served pure, with no toast, just as an extra on plate, but it is not the same thing. We feel so isolated and eaten without a reason.”
“What do you think about this toast?”
“I have been served with everything balancing on my surface. Some prefer smoked salmon, but that is a special occasion. There are even humans that might put a slice of cheese and ham on our top side and then I am eventually covered with one of my colleagues, a sort of toast sandwich. The beans are our favourite, although when we arrive from the toaster nice and warm we prefer a spreading of butter first of all.”
“You mean not just throw the beans on your warm surface.”
“Definitely not, that is very common and it offends us toast. There is nothing better than being buttered up before the beans arrive.”
“May I intervene?”
“Of course beans, go ahead.”
“When we arrive on the toast we must have melted butter between ourselves and the raw surface of the bread. Imagine the discomfort of being throw on a hot piece of bread with its sharp edges on the surface. We prefer to slide, to be slowly acclimatised to the warmth of the bread. The butter makes it all so worth while.”
“And of course it makes all the difference when being eaten.”
“Yes bread, I am sure it does. But beans how do you feel about being mashed between teeth and swallowed. Is it not a sad ending to the life of a bean?”
“Oh no, it is the course of nature. We are born to be eaten. From the day we are cooked and put in a tin, we are something special, the chosen beans. We know our destiny and accept it with no questions. so is the life of a baked bean surrounded by tomato sauce.”
“Yes, yes I totally agree. Without beans on my surface with tomato sauce I am just an apology for a slice of toast.”
“I see, you compliment each other.”
“Yes, when we go, we go together.”
“But I can see other objects on the plate.”
“You mean the fried egg an the sausages. That again is a human thing. There was a time when the average Brit could not afford such a luxury of sausages and eggs, in these days of food luxury, we accept the fact that we beans have to share the plate with others. And now we must go, come on toast you are ready, lay still whilst I spread on your surface. Mrs. Angloswiss and Mr. Swiss are ready to devour us. No screaming or making a fuss, we go quietly and with dignitiy, do not forget bread this is a public interview.”
And so I left Mrs. Angloswiss and her husband to enjoy their meal, knowing that the beans on toast were in good company