Take a look at our lovely … thingie.
In the picture above.
Cute isn’t it?
Not too big, not too small, you will agree.
Neither is it too wide or too narrow … just a perfectly proportioned ring-within-a-ring, attractive red-apple-hearted, sturdy bronze-legged … thingie.
Ideal for …
We still don’t know.
Have it for years now, and haven’t found a use for it.
It’s just there, in the kitchen.
It’s supposed to be for putting hot pans, pots or plates on, some bright spark told us once, but nah, not steady enough or necessary anyway on a perfectly decent dark granite worktop, thank you.
Sure we move it around now and then, and we even brought it into the sitting room for a while.
Put candles on it. But they didn’t look quite right, and back it came eventually to the kitchen.
Have you got your own thingie at home?
Something you like, have even become attached to, but heck if you can find an actual use for it?
So many gorgeous, thoughtfully purchased or gifted — expensive even — utensils, bowls and holders have come and gone, but sturdy thingie lives on …
Useless but strangely beguiling.
Can’t find it in us to throw it out.
This home of ours will fall to the ground someday, a pile of rubbled memories and Ikea bookcase fragments … and the future archaeologists of the past will come, with their hologram’strings’ and their superscopic ‘stakes’, and their old-fashioned trowels and their new-fangled theories.
Amid rumours of a most intriguing find … an unusual, bronzed object …
A young dust-encrusted intern will toil in the 23rd-century sun, having first cracked open the compacted surface soil and debris with his trusty mattock, cutting carefully into the past with his hectroliptical laser ‘pickaxe’ and delving with his polycarbonate shovel and his informed enthusiasm.
The team’s hyperspectral sensing systems will have led them to this site, just outside a small abandoned town north of the city of Dublin, in Western Trumpland.
Golden Ridge, they had called this ancient settlement, something to do with the first new potatoes of the year growing there, when it was farmland.
Once a lush market-gardening oasis, rich in its own produce and heritage, the multi-galactic ‘food’ generating corporations will have laid waste to the economy of the whole area, and centuries of neglect by governments, local and interplanetary, won’t have helped either.
But the team’s tomography scan of the underlying soil will have yielded an intriguing 3D image of a small, circular, multi-ringed vessel … with what looks like an apple shape at the centre, down about two metres.
This was no job for the mini robot digger, fresh-faced Thomas J Delap had begged his boss to let him do this delicate job himself.
Down, down he will burrow, painstaking and thorough, eager to please his gruff but dedicated chief, and he will stop immediately when the sun catches that first bronzy glint.
He will run to Professor Blowhard, who will, of course, take over and later claim all the credit, after he finally brings … thingie into the light of that far off day.
The scraps and fragments of cups, candle-holders and HP printer cartridges will have been routinely bagged and filed away … but thingie will have this ambitious man and his learned colleagues guessing.
Oh, the papers they will ‘write’, the brandies and fine dinners they will consume, the exclusive symposiums they will cajole and browbeat funding for, dedicated to thingie, drawing prestigious scholars from around the planets …
Reputations and careers will be made and unmade, as they sift through their hypotheses and their presumptions, and snort derisively into their Dingle gin and plutonics, trying to work out what thingie was used for.
Social media will finally get wind of it, the leaked photo will go viral on Mars.
All the more reason not to throw it out …
And find a use for it … one day.
Has to be something …
What do you reckon?
It’s over there under the front window, near the microwave.
Nothing on it, but, hey, it’s part of the decor …
Not a utensil, and not quite an ornament either, a … thingie
Besides, it was a present.
From a Hungarian friend married to a Kerry man.
Haven’t seen them in years. But we still have our thingie.
The apple heart is kind of cute, though, isn’t it?
Nice shade of red.
Rustic red, I call it.
Rusty red, more like.
Red is a funny colour, you’ve got to admit.
Too red and we’re talking garish. Look-at-me lurid. Loud.
Not red enough and it’s insipid, deadening.
The right red in a coat is daring, dashing and dangerously alluring.
The wrong rouge and, sorry madam, but you are a sartorial sniggering-stock.
Lost to fashion
Don’t look now …
Ferrari red in cars is bad-boy compelling, or vacuously vulgar.
Depends who’s driving.
It can be kind of guilty pleasure cool.
Something Tom Selleck would drive in his heyday …
But thingies’ apple-heart red?
There has to be something we can use it for …
Something that will look wonderful on it …
Have you thought of anything yet?
Put a teapot on it, you say?
Oh, we have, but it didn’t sit comfortably.
None of the seven did.
See it’s just not quite, spirit-level flat.
Maybe if we bought the right tea-pot?
C’mon, seven is enough, don’t you think!
Think … it’s a perfect width for … what exactly?
A butter dish? Salad dish? Goldfish bowl? Cactus plant holder?
Microscope? Hatstand …
You’re getting silly now!
Maybe if we moved it out of the kitchen again we’re find something to put on it.
A lamp? … Too small.
Cactus plant? Not steady enough.
But it’s so unobtrusive, and a nice height, for …
Sturdy too, perfect to put … what on?
No natural fit. Or place.
See the game is already up when you have to think of things it can be adopted for.
Rather than suggest itself for.
Create its own need, or use.
Like a normal utensil, holder or stand.
All ideas considered …
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