Thursday 9 September 2010

Gone crackers

As I nibble on free hommus (bought for a cancelled staff meeting) and cream crackers (left over from a previous staff meeting) - oh the small pleasures of admin staff! - I find myself following through a little ritual.

One picks up the cream cracker and holds it on the sides with the face of the cracker towards you. One carefully analyses the central lines of holes to see which bisector has so slightly longer holes along its length; only an amateur would think that all holes are made equal. One arranges the cracker so this ever-so-slightly-longer-holed line runs vertically between one's nimble fingers. The next step is pure art: gently move one's thumb (on the front of the cracker) and one's fingers (to the rear of the cracker) further towards the central line and when reaching the optimum point flex the cracker away from one until it releases a resounding snap. Experts in the field will be left with a perfectly broken cracker in two perfectly equal halves. Amateurs will have a crumbly diagonal line, or something that looks similar to the perfect break but with flaws only visible to the expert eye.

I'd been doing this for a few minutes without thinking, when all of a sudden the thought struck me: "my, that's a perfectly cracked cream cracker in two perfect halves!"

I had a number of theories, but have come to the conclusion that my much beloved Grandpa has finally handed his cream cracking expertise over to me. Every lunchtime when we lived together, or when I visited, he would shake his head in dismay at the sight of my layman's attempts. Patiently he taught me his trade; eagerly I watched him prepare his crackers for an onslaught of spam or tongue.

While I'm sure he'd be proud of my latest achievement, I have no doubt that his ashes will be turning in their urn .... "Hommus?!"