Meat (in Love)

When I was a kid, I could see faces in the wallpaper. This was not, and is not, unique to me. In fact, I think that I have actually read my first sentence of this story in someone else's story. Does that make it plagiarism if it is my truth?

That's a thought for another day. Back to seeing faces.

I don't mean that I lived in a house that literally had faces coming through the wallpaper either. Just images. That would be some spooky upbringing.

It is named, this thing where you see faces in inanimate objects. It's called face pareidolia. I continue to see faces to this day although it is not, and never was, limited to wallpaper.

As an entry to a challenge designed to discuss the emotional sincerity of a photo you treasure, my choice is scant on sentiment. It hasn't captured a powerful moment although it's all about the context maybe... It has captured something and whilst the essence of what is seen in the photo is perhaps not that deep, what it says about me is significant.

I know, I know. You want to see the photo. Here it is. I feel like I should put an advisory for vegans.

Surprised? Good.

It's pretty special, you must admit.

I mean, look at it! It's like two very pink, bald and marbled people about to embrace. Their eyes are closed in on something approximating ecstasy or amusement - one of the two - and whilst they're both in the moment, I think it's fair to say that the meat piece on the right is looking a lot more into it. In fact, that stringy bit of fat in its "mouth" makes it look like it's positively drooling with the prospect of getting its meaty lips onto its com-pan-ion.

Do you see it too?

Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps there is sentiment, deep sentiment, a significant emotional moment being shown in that picture. Those meat pieces are in the throes of, er, something and, here I come along, heating them up, setting them alight and disturbing them, but more than that, devouring them shortly after (or one of them at least). If that's not a dramatic ending to a thwarted love story, then I don't know what is!

This photo says a lot about me. It tells you I like gammon, not often as it is a little salty for me but I do enjoy it when I have it. More than that, it illustrates that I do "suffer" from face pareidolia. Not a condition as such but very much part of me. It tells you also that I know how to preserve the perfect moment.

Most of all, it is a little snapshot, literally, into how I see the world. I see faces everywhere and I create stories for them. I've just imposed one on those gammon slices above, suggesting that they meet a hellish end which if they were two living things would be terrible and horrific and reduce an involved reader to tears.

It's not just meat slices that inspire me. When my kids were smaller and I didn't have an early start for football games, on Sunday mornings I would make us all pancakes. I very much enjoyed this process. There's something satisfying about making something from scratch which is simple but which, in the providing, gives people pleasure. Taste good too.

As I would be standing there waiting for them to fluff up in the pan, I'd marvel at the patterns that formed on the surface. Sometimes, too, they'd settle into strange shapes and I would look at them and fantasise about them being planets. I suppose, they're circular, pitted, unique - they sort of look like individual worlds in that pan.

If I was particularly taken by the look or shape of one, I would take a photo of it and post it to Instagram (social media has a lot to answer for) at Pancakesasplanets. This, in itself, is self-indulgent madness but I didn't stop there.

I also wrote a little piece, like an excerpt from a planetary tourist guide, to tell you a little bit about my pancake planet, usually a short description of its features.

Here's an example:

The ridge on the right hand side that curves is called The Ridge of Rock. It is made of, erm, rock. It acts as a protective shield against the villainous gummy projectile from neighbouring planet, Haribo. This planet, Solidas, has inhabitants who live directly below the Ridge in caves of soft floury powder.

I'm not sure to this day why I did this. I still have a hankering to continue it. As you can see, it was very popular from the number of followers I gained.

No time on Sunday mornings now for pancakes nor sharing them.

What the photos and the story and the sharing prove to demonstrate, other than my madness and my leanings towards whimsy and surrealism, is that I really do see stories everywhere and that they can appear from the most unlikely sources.

So let's go back to the gammon. That sounds like a concept album for a progressive rock group.

Focus.

The reason that that photo has emotion for me? It's because it reflects who I am. Wonderfully weird me. I love who I am. I'm happy that this is the person I am and that I am contained in the skin I am in, to present foolish fancies like this to you in the hope of winning a prize. More than the winning, though, it's the being able to do it, to have that capability. I'm not gifted but I'm not rubbish neither and the enjoyment that I've received from having sat here in my kitchen and spouted this nonsense, whilst having a cup of tea and some cornflakes has, I am not ashamed to say, filled me with an inordinate amount of joy.

With that in mind, the gammon's mutual attraction and the photo thereof is not in itself a meaningful one. To the outsider, it might appear humorous and it ends there. In the context of me, though, that photo? It declares to the world that I am playful, that I notice things, that I am thoughtful, that I am mad, that I like gammon. The emotion lies in me knowing these things about myself and wanting to share them with you.

Simply put, I love me.

On a more serious note, though, I sincerely hope that this has served as an advisory to you, most importantly, that you should more closely examine your food as you never know - it may be examining you in return.