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Magical Pie
We need to talk about pies
19 December 2019 . 4min read

I've been feeling, for some time now, that I should write something about Pie. I'm just not sure what.

I have a complicated relationship with Pie. I'm sure some of you also have a similar problem too; they are invisible.

Now, I'm not saying that they are invisible in a Harry Potter kind of way (although that would be groovy-cool). No, what I am talking about is fiendishly more twisted than that.

For those of you who have read Douglas Adam's Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, there is a concept in there called an S-E-P. In the scenario described, a spaceship lands in the middle of London, and not a single person notices it. The reason is that it has an S-E-P cloak. It is so powerful that it renders it invisible. S-E-P, stands for Somebody Else's Problem.

The illusion of invisibility works by exploiting a flaw in the human psyche. Namely, that ability of someone to ignore something completely that is none of their business or concern. The British are world leaders at this. The S-E-P cloak remotely amplifies this skill and, hey-presto, invisibility.

Back to Pie. I suspect that something vaguely similar is going on with Pie.

When I open the fridge, and glance in to see what there is to cook, I can honestly say that I have never noticed the absence of a Pie; I have never thought, "wish I had some Pie". It just doesn't happen.

However, if there is a Pie in the fridge, then I will almost always choose that. Even if I have eaten one the day before. Odd.

The oddity continues when I go food shopping. I can't ever really remember ambling around and randomly deciding to buy a Pie. I mean I have, on occasion, specifically purchased a Pie, as the result of having it written on an actually physical scrap of paper. Just never accidentally.

Now, this can't be said for other food items; I have lost count of the number of Scotch Eggs, Olives, bottles of Red Wine, packets of Crisps, that I have accidentally purchased. Just not Pie.

What does this mean? Should you care? Does the Government need to launch a cross-department tax-payer funded investigation into it?

Well, I do think that there are questions to be answered, not least of which; how does Pie get into the house if I don't purchase it?

As you would expect, I have been giving this some considerable thought. I have deployed all the skills I have obtained from episodes of Morse, Lewis, Elementary & Playschool.

You will, dear reader, be glad to know that I have some answers for you. Even if you don't actually like Pie, or care about it, then you will at least be grateful that this rambling word-river will shortly conclude into a rather disappointingly average lake.

My conclusion is that Pies are like Clouds.

Perhaps I should expand on that a little. We all seem to notice the sunshine, and the rain, but how often do we notice the Clouds? Sure, if you are proactively looking at the Clouds, then you will notice them. But, how often have you stepped out of your home and muttered, "what an entirely averagely and uniformly grey cloud-day it is." We do, however, say, "lovely sunshine", and "crappy rain".

Furthermore, if you actually take some time out of your day, lay on your back (outside obviously), and look up into the sky, then Clouds can be wondrous. They are a captivating visual treat.

I believe Pies hold the same quality. I may never remember buying them, I may never accidentally purchase them, I may never long after them when presented with a sparse fridge. But. Eating a good Pie, is a magical experience.

The magic is perhaps tied up in the invisibility, perhaps it is because they are just so unassuming. They are the grey-clouds, that can deliver your food in edible packaging, self-contained goodness, filling, warm, with an often slight crisp to its crust.

The humble Pie is, I conclude, a mystical beast that appears from nowhere, leaves a momentary delight, then disappears into the ether... until the next time.

I hope you can find time to give a Pie a special moment. We all need a little magic in our lives, and what better way than to consume it in the form of a magical Pie.

Sometimes we need to take a moment to look up...


Profile photo of Nigel Derbyshire

I'm a carbon-unit who writes; a Carbon Writer. Life & culture are my default topics, mixed with a little English wit & sarcasm. Full of mostly true stories, I occasionally remember to write them down. Found in a crowd, or contemplating in a corner. Habit of talking to anyone. Author.
- Nigel Derbyshire