A friend’s blog post about subjecting her children to subzero temperatures so she could drive to the store to pick up ingredients for a cake, reminded me of my most infamous transgression in the pursuit of food.
It happened nearly four years ago, while living in London. During our time there, Harrods department store opened a Krispy Kreme counter in its food hall. The only one in Europe, if I remember correctly. Now I’m not an extraordinarily huge fan of Krispy Kreme donuts. I enjoy them, but would not normally go to great lengths in order to get one. However, when you’re living overseas and long for some of the ‘comforts’ of home..you tend to make a big deal about otherwise ordinary things. So I made certain that, shortly after Krispy Kreme opened, we went to Harrod’s for a warm glazed donut (and a dozen to take home). If memory serves, thanks to the exchange rate, it was also the most expensive box of donuts I’d ever purchased – about $10 or $15 for a dozen.
Months passed, and I dreamt about visiting Krispy Kreme again, but it never materialized. One beautiful Sunday, right after church, I suggested to J that we go to Harrods/Krispy Kreme (with our then two-month old in tow). Because taking a stroller on the Tube can be more of a hassle than it’s worth, and because it was such a nice day, I also suggested we walk rather than use public transportation. J protested that it was too far to walk. I argued that it wasn’t that far and that it would be a fun adventure.
After a little bit of convincing, we set off in search of warm, glazed donut happiness. The walk began, amiably enough, at St Helen’s. As we made our way, stopping for pictures at Trafalgar Square, I grew a little uneasy that it was taking a lot longer than I had envisioned. And, with J’s questioning if Harrod’s was actually open on a Sunday, the little bit of unease grew into silent dread. Also, the beautiful weather changed over the course of our [long] walk. The bright day turned cloudy and windy with occasional misting/drizzling. But I was determined to finish what we (I) had started, and we pressed on until we arrived at Harrod’s.
Which was, of course, closed on Sundays.
Trying very hard to ignore the darting, accusatory stares being sent my way, I suggested we walk across the practically impenetrable street to get some groceries before we headed home. While in Sainsbury’s it began to pour down blame, I mean rain. And so we concluded another ‘classy’ day of pushing a stroller in inclement weather, weighed down with groceries, resentment (j) and guilt (n)…and no donuts. (And another transgression to add to the list of ‘stupid things I’ve done in pursuit of food, entertainment or saving money.’)
It’s a fine line between perseverance and stupidity, I’ve found.
P.S. Apparently the distance between St Helen’s and Harrod’s is 4.1 miles. Also, Harrod’s is now open on Sundays from 12-6pm.