Wok and Roll

It is the family service and the Vicar is telling the assembled children about Victoria, the well-spoken homeless woman who once lived on our vicarage doorstep. She refused the floor of the church hall or a bed in a hostel. She laid her damp sleeping bag against our front gate and declared it was an 'act of worship'. There she pondered theological mysteries and traded cigarette stubs with passing vagrants.

Victoria, the Vicar is explaining, had three great needs: a sleeping bag, hot tea and occasional medical intervention for head lice. I'm worried that he'll mention her most visible need, which was men. No passing male was denied a slot in her sleeping bag and our vicarage CCTV pulsed with live footage of her vigorous hospitality. When I mentioned that Sex Addicts Anonymous were meeting in the church hall behind her she dashed in, arms spread wide, and threatened a collective relapse.

Victoria had once had a husband, but the only good thing in her marriage was, she said, the wok. The Vicar doesn't mention any of this and I am relieved. But later I hear him on the phone to my brother who is collating his birthday lists. The Vicar tells him that he urgently needs a new wok. Ours, he reports, is stained and shabby with over-use. Then I decide to bake a great many cakes for the next church tea so that he will rejoice in matrimony, for our old wok looks perfectly sound to me and the symbolism is unnerving.

Comments

  1. Wok you don't know can't hurt you, so I wouldn't worry about the new one.

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  2. I love your writing and exceptional humour to all things.

    They do say a new wok needs lots of seasoning before it's completely useable so keep your eye on the vicars nightly movements!

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  3. What a lovely thing to say, Mrs Angel. And thanks for the tip. I'll keep my eye out for anything unusually hot or spicy in the vicarage.

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  4. If goings-on in the kitchen are indicative of the matrimonial situation, what does the fact that we've just had our external door blocked up say about mine?

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  5. I guess a wok is like a mattress. A nice new one is a joy to behold, but only after it's been used a few times does it really become yours. Too much metaphor? Okay.

    It's a bugger to get bean sprouts out of a mattress by the way.

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  6. christ my wok is buggered.....

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  7. I always chuckle loudly at your posts, so I try not to read at work, or I read at lunch time when the office is empty. I still think about your issues with tissues post every time I put a wash on and remember fondly your mother and the bishop having a wank together...

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  8. I've not used my wok in ages. Perhaps this speaks volumes.
    Another corker!

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  9. We have two woks; my partner brought one with him when he moved in. His has a wonky handle. Mine has a slightly rusty bottom.

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  10. Ooh, Victoria could really get her teeth into that! But his 'n' hers woks have to be a sign of a well cemented union, wonky handles or no.

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