This curious little phrase started life as a Pembrokeshire proverb. I like Pembrokeshire and apples and dislike doctors, so I take this phrase at it's word and eat an apple every day and usually keep one on my desk to ward off unwanted visits.
When we were growing up we had two big apple trees at the bottom of the garden and every September the 3rd, on his birthday my dad would get stung by a wasp that was slightly drunk on our ripening apples. None of the rest of us were but we didn't used to try to hit them, preferring to get on with our game of Horse of the year show, using every broom, mop and chair we could find in the house, or tying worms in knots to see if they could untangle themselves before being dropped in the oil tank. You can't say that children didn't know how to have fun in the seventies.
My Dad's tendency to get stung always made me question the phrase, though. I did wonder if you'd be better off buying apples to eat or place strategically around windows and doors to keep doctors out rather than growing your own.
When they moved my mum and dad missed their apple trees and so my mum planted a couple. One variety with the same name as my daughter. That year, the apple tree didn't work very well at keeping the doctor away. At one of the first orchestra end of year parties a small boy (who isn't so small now) ran into the tree and we had to call an ambulance.
This has been an exceptionally good year for apples and mum hasn't been able to eat them all. In a genius plan she puts some in a tub at the front of the house everyday and watches to see what happens to them. People love them. Small children stride up the hill munching on an apple, while their parents complain that they have apples rotting in the fruit bowl at home. Old men, look surreptitiously around before filling their pockets. People say how much they remind them of their childhood. Men say that their wives have told them off when they bring them home because they say they are scrounging.
The other day a man came along and took the whole lot, except 4 small wormy ones.
"If I could write I'd have a story," my mum said, although I'm not sure what the story would be.
The Long Suffering Husband suggested that the man was an alcoholic with a cider press. I thought he might have a horse, although he'd probably have taken the small apples too.
All I do know is that he probably wasn't a doctor, as we know that they are scared of apples.
No comments:
Post a Comment