By Ian D Smith
Location: Fog Lane Park, Burnage
He always did what Jamie Oliver told him to because Jamie Oliver was cool. Jamie told him to freeze blackcurrants because they were delicious when they were frozen and it was quicker than making a sorbet.
‘Sorbet,’ he repeated. ‘Sorbet, sorbet, sorbet!’
He liked the sound of the word sorbet.
On the hottest day of the year he went out to Fog Lane Park and made his fingers purple picking a bagful of blackcurrants. He slammed them in the freezer and washed his hands. ‘Sorbet! Sorbet, sorbet, sorbet!’
He pushed the sofa into the front garden, opened a beer and waited for the blackcurrants to freeze.’Sorbet! Sorbet, sorbet, sorbet!’
He went inside for another beer and then he forgot about the sorbet. He went to bed and he slept and he forgot about the sofa.
It rained a lot in Burnage and by morning the sofa was soaked through. It was too wet to bring indoors, so he left it out to dry. He left it through August and September. He left it through autumn and all the way into December.
Christmas Day came and on Christmas Day he always did what Jamie Oliver told him to because Jamie Oliver was cool. ‘Sorbet!’ he cried. ‘Sorbet, sorbet, sorbet!’
He remembered the blackcurrants and took them out of the freezer. He opened a beer and went outside and sat down on the frozen sofa. He ate the frozen blackcurrants and he reckoned Jamie was right, they were tasty and it was far quicker than fussing around but it was a bit bloody cold, too bloody cold for sorbet. ‘Jamie bloody Oliver,’ he said shivering. ‘I’ll give him a bloody sorbet.’
Ian D Smith was born and raised in Stockport, and now lives in Wiltshire. He has an MA in Creative Writing from Goldsmith’s University of London, and has published many stories. http://www.iandsmith.comStats: