The Sausage Roll Lady

“YOUNG MAN! Young man! Wait just one moment please!” The portly Sausage Roll Lady comes waddling out of the bakery, waving her doughy hands.

Oh no. Not again.

“Young man,” she pants out of breath, grabbing me by the sleeve. “Please – young man, handsome man – you must take this leftover sausage roll. I made it just for you!” In her hands she holds a small brown bag, greasy with deliciousness, which she attempts to push on me.

A leftover sausage roll? My dear lady, how can this be? It’s 11.30 am. Ma’am – you still have the whole day to make the sale! Surely if you simply left this sausage roll in the display a paying customer would willingly take it from you!

“No, no, young man – handsome man – this sausage roll is specifically for you! I saw you walking up the street and so I quickly packed it – please, you must take it. It’s fresh out of the oven!” She opens the brown bag to show. The intoxicating aroma of freshly baked goods fills the air. As if in trance my hands move to take the bag and its delectable contents from her… but luckily – strong willed as I am – I come to my senses and catch myself.

My dear, strange, wobbly lady – I must insist – I cannot take this sausage roll from you. And what else is it that I spy in this alluring bag you so generously offer me? It is a particularly strange time of the day to be parting with free goods I must say – indeed, you are perfectly timed for lunch! Is that a spinach quiche I see, so snuggly wedged next to the sausage roll? Good lady – were you but half your age I would be tempted to relieve you of this scrumptious smelling bag. But as it is, I must insist – I cannot take these wonderful delights you attempt to dote upon me.

“Young man – handsome man – please, take the sausage roll.” She looks at me, giddy with delight, hope shining in her eyes. “And the spinach quiche! I beg it of you! Please – take this pain au chocolate also. They are delicious, all of them. They are made with love! Please, handsome, intelligent, wonderful man – do not make me throw them after you. It would mean so much to me. Would you not make an old lady’s day?”

My dear lady… very well. If you insist. But I’ll have you know – I have a woman at home who will be most displeased to see me return yet again, belabored with sausage rolls and spinach quiches. They round my face, she complains. But if it is so important to you, if it truly means so much to you… no, I wouldn’t have you throwing them after me – very well. I will take upon me the burden of a free sausage roll, a spinach quiche and one – err, make that two! – pain au chocolates.

She is overjoyed. Clearly, I did make her day.

“Young man,” she says. “You have the body and features of Hermes – the Greek god celebrated for his beauty! – nay, you resemble more the Statue of David, chiseled from but the finest marble…” Disgruntled – but comforted by the knowledge that I did her a service – I take my leave while she continues to sing my praises.

This is the story I tell my fiancé every time I come home with a sausage roll in hand.

THE END