SUICIDAL WINE GLASSES

The day did not start well…

I opened up a cupboard to grab the multi-pack of Mini Cheddars to add a couple of packets to our packed lunches, because, as you know, I’ve never been one to embrace the healthier lifestyle (or avoid using three variations of the word “pack” in the space of one sentence), when one of the wine glasses a whole shelf away made a bid for freedom and leapt to its doom, striking its stem on the kitchen scales on its way to what I presume it believed would be a soft landing on the pile of shopping bags.

I never touched the thing, honest, Guv…!

Anyway it shattered into all of five pieces, two of which remained unfound despite me looking all over the floor for them, and knowing full well that an inadequately protected foot was far more likely to find it than I was.

The missing pieces remained hidden in that “Damocles-like” state, until I picked up one of the shopping bags later on in the day and found the other bits lying there on top of it, so, in the end, that potential calamity was at the very least averted.

But, given that, other than the usual bathroom requirements and then going downstairs and switching on the kettle, that was pretty much the very first thing I did that day, I did get the impression that this was not really the greatest of starts, and a day that starts like that is pretty much already over before it’s begun and that I might as well just go back to bed, put my head under the duvet and sleep the rest of the day away.

So I did.

No, I didn’t really.

I got ready, drove to work and had pretty much a normal day at the office…

But I did have to remain on my guard for the entire time…!

Meanwhile, I do wonder quite what it was that depressed that glass so much. Was it the thought of the obviously inferior wines that I drink...? Or had it just decided that it was so neglected these days that its useful life was over…? Maybe it just didn’t like me, or just being a wine glass at all, despite the obvious pleasures they bring. As with so many of such tragic situations, we’ll probably never know, but the endless pointless speculation goes on anyway.

Whatever it was, as it got up that morning, it had obviously decided to make is bid for freedom if the opportunity arose, and, having studied my morning routine meticulously, knew when its moment to make a break for it would come.

I suspect that it might even have come to some sort of an arrangement with the Mini Cheddars for them to set up some kind of cheesy distraction while it tried to get away, which is quite clever, when you think about it, for a wine glass, especially one with a death wish.

Clever, but oh-so very stupid.

You see, with that broken leg it was done for. I did briefly consider whether or not the application of a little superglue might just help it to live for another day, but, in the end, it was kindest to just put it out of its misery and into the recycling.

I’m sure it’s what it would have wanted, and it will get to see something of the world as it makes its final journey, and, well you never know, in its next life it might very well come back as something it feels far more comfortable being.

So, if in a few weeks a bottle or a glass you’ve bought suddenly makes an (unfortunately termed) break for it and shatters all over your floor, just pause for a moment and ponder whether it’s the spirit of my old wine glass tryng to find new and exciting ways to end it all…