Branston Pickle
I found this shopping list on a scrap of paper in a pretty cotton coat I bought in Oxfam yesterday. It read: Milk, Bread, Cranberry Juice (For Mike), Earl Grey (For Mike), Fig Rolls, Cheddar, Beer, Branston Pickle (For Mike) Pasta, Red Wine, Garlic, Onions, Frozen Peas, Smoked Salmon, Lemonade, Monster Munch, Vaseline, Razors.
I found it when I was checking the pockets of the coat (blue with white stripes) for left over items from the previous owner before I wore it.
I once found a fine gold watch and pawned it.
This time all I found was this ordinary old shopping list but it made me so sad. It really changed my mood. I’d been having an okay day up until then but that stupid list set me off crying again.
At first I couldn’t figure out why it made me sad. I mean it was such an ordinary shopping list. There was nothing special about it. But the more I thought about it the more I understood why it upset me. It was Mike. Whoever wrote that list must have really loved Mike. It was obvious. They had marked such mundane, plain items as especially for Mike.
Cranberry Juice – for Mike.
Earl Grey tea – for Mike.
And Branston Pickle – for Mike.
I mean why would you mark those items as special on a shopping list unless they were special to Mike, who also must have been special, and then it dawned on me why it made me sad. No one had ever thought of me as special enough to buy me Branston Pickle. That was why I cried.
No one ever bought me Branston Pickle.


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