Margaret's Fruit Cake

After an enjoyable lunch with Ricky Ralph and his wife Monica at the Pine Grove Hotel on Saturday, a lunch paid for by yours truly as a consequence of me finishing behind Rick in our footy tipping last year; and a social morning walk on Sunday in the cool autumn mist, social in that I had conversations with Chas, Norm Smith, Roxanne, who looks gorgeous with her hair down, and Huit and Wilma who stopped their car to talk, I sat at the computer and blogged a post in which I took a pot shot at the Gembrook Market, largely because the sign promoting same in JAC Russell Park has annoyed me for years but never more so than on Sunday morning. Why more that day I'm unsure.

I published the post, without the photograph.



Soon after, while I was reading The Age on line, there was barking by the dogs followed by a knock on the front door. It was neighbour Margaret, smiling, holding the handles of a large brown paper bag in one hand. Her grey hair was tied back neatly as usual, accentuating her large attractive eyes, and she was well dressed in black slacks and jumper.

"I want to thank you for your kind help cutting up the tree limb that fell across our drive in the windstorm last week. I have a gift for you."

"I was pleased to help Margaret, you didn't need to do that."

"It's a cake, made to a special recipe. You have been so kind in many ways and helped us put down roots in Gembrook. We're truly grateful."

I thanked her and she left, saying her daughter Libby was picking her up shortly to take her to a mountain horse riding show somewhere, she wasn't sure, not far away. She'd watched 'The Man from Snowy River' and read poetry to get in the mood and was looking forward to it. When I called to offer help with the tree she invited me in to watch the end of a video she was watching, Mozart's 'Magic Flute'. She loaned me a book of David Malouf's short stories last year.

It was a heavy cake. I put it in the kitchen, still wrapped in butcher's paper tied with coloured cord, and started to peel the vegies for the Sunday roast dinner before the delayed telecast of the Richmond/Melbourne game. Lib came home from work about half time and we all had a bit of the cake.

Man O man! What an amazing fruit cake so full of nuts and fruit! Never have I had such a wonderful cake. Lib took a few slices to work to show her friends today and the consensus was that it was BRILLIANT, and must have cost heaps for the ingredients. As well as the cake, the bag contained a thank you card with the recipe beautifully written inside.

Talk about heartwarming! The next time I looked at my post potting the Gembrook market I realized how snakey I sounded, and pulled it with one ping on the delete button. To any market people who may have read it in the short time it was up and were disappointed, I apologize. My view changed with Margaret softening me up. I still don't like the sign, which, to me, is an ugly blot on the street scape, but I acknowledge the right of those that run the market to do their best to make it a success by putting up a sign so long as no regulations are breached, and to aim high with their ideals, even if the promotional text seems fanciful to me.

I feel better now. I hope Monica is still off the fags.