The ice cream scoop of victory

Back in early August when I was feeling blue following my foot surgery, Philippa, Kathryn and Anne came round to share a takeaway. Anne kindly brought ice cream…. and her own ice cream scoop.

Proudly she demonstrated its ergonomic design. She showed us how it thrust through ice cream like a snow plough through…well, snow. No other scoop worked as efficiently.

After they had all left the scoop was still here.

"Probably she’ll pop back for it."

But she didn't.

"Perhaps you could take it round to her, Nigel "

But Nigel was busy covering my household tasks as well as his own. 

Over the following weeks the ice cream scoop shifted from one part of the kitchen to another until finally its role became clear. 

It was to be SYMBOLIC.

When I could walk well enough to take the scoop back to Anne's I would be a good way down the road to recovery.

At last, on Sunday the moment had arrived. I tucked the scoop in my coat pocket and clumped off on my crutches. Anne was certainly going to be overjoyed to see her long lost scoop again.

At the door she was glad to see me and invited me in politely.

Although it was hardly the exuberant reunion of scoop and owner that I had been anticipating.

“Aren't you pleased to get it back?”

“To be honest, Clare, I thought I must have accidentally thrown it in the bin.  So I went out and bought a new one.”

So we are both winners – I am beginning to walk again, and Anne is now the owner of a double-scoop household.