<<Back
Next>>
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22<
23
24
25
end

< Scroll >


 
 

Before the ice-creams had a chance to melt, the sun had soured and the rain began to fall. ‘Quick- Grab your towel’s and let’s run to the car’ a plump Turkish lady threw over her shoulder as her feet forged their way through the rocky terrain. A young girl in tow and an older boy moaned about how their day was ruined. I shut my eyes and let the downpour season my flesh and I relished in the privacy the rain had provided me with. By the time I opened my eyes, my fellow sun-seekers had fled for cover and I was left amongst the seagulls.

 
 

I tried to get comfortable with the pebbles below me, but they were rigid on my spine and I was beginning to feel flustered by all the commotion. I decided to head home and my stomach agreed with me as it seemed to be trying to communicate through its bizarre speech patterns. I imagined a tiny person in there with a sparkly jacket and microphone- I made an odd cackle aloud. Embarrassed, I stood up quickly and felt a breath so coarse against my body that my bathing suit fused itself to my goose-pimpled body. I picked up my (Tesco sponsored) beach bag, flung in my sun cream, flopped in my socks and forced in my towel. Alas, the rain had stopped and gave way to a golden coin which shun brightly. As I reached down and scooped up my dishevelled cotton dress I noticed something quite odd looking under it. It was kind of a white/yellow colour and looked rubbery. I could only see the top of it but thought it to be a child’s play ball or something alike. I bent down with some effort and gave it a light squeeze. ‘Could this be right?’ I thought to myself, was this in fact a potato? I removed the pebbles that surrounded it and noticed the roots. Yes- It was a potato! I fumbled in my bag and retrieved my phone which was slightly damp.

 

 

‘Chris, guess what…there’s a potato growing down at the beach’ I said with bewilderment.

‘Impossible! Potato’s need soil and manure to grow’ he exclaimed (his dad was a farmer)

I got the feeling Chris was of little potato faith and decided there was no convincing him of this tiny miracle, so I ended the conversation hastily.

 

It was an unusual predicament I had found myself in. I sat by my mini friend for some time and pondered its fate. On the one hand I could let the little spud be and hope that someone else should find him, or I could see it as divine intervention and take him home to fill my ever growing hunger pains. I sat for at least an hour contemplating spud’s fate and in the end I decided that there was only one thing to do…make chips! So I carefully tore him from his roots, made my way home and with considerate preparation, I enjoyed the best 4 chips I had ever tasted! There was no salt required and they were crispy delights. I felt like little spud had been grown for my enjoyment…at least I hoped so.

 
 

 

 

Nicole runs Pin Magazine Featured on page 1.