matt's 101 in 1001

There's this unavoidable part of human nature whereby if someone hands you an item when you least suspect it, you instinctively reach out and take it before even contemplating the situation. Unfortunately, I've caught myself accepting all sorts of objects on a whim; copious amounts of overdue paperwork, winning lottery tickets, recently-fired weaponry... you name it, when I'm least suspecting it, and I'll take it.

So I'm sitting in Hyde Park yesterday, enjoying the remaining morsels of the British summer, when a couple of elderly ladies motion for me to move along the park bench to allow them to sit together. Ever the gentlemen, I stand up, tip my top hat and whip out a clean handkerchief with which to dust down the space where I had been sitting. Capping the entire act off with a amicable smile, I shift a few feet along the bench.

Engrossed in my Sudoku (it's a shameful addiction and I'm not proud of it), I'm soon interrupted when the ladies thrust some sort of French baked good in my direction. Instinctively, I snatch it. But it doesn't look that appetising, and I couldn't help but remember my parents' advice on accepting food from strangers ("Only take it if it looks good.")

Mercifully, the ladies (bless their cotton socks for being so kind in the first place) didn't turn to me with anticipation to watch my reaction as I devoured the somewhat stale snack. However, it left me in the sticky situation of having to keep a handful of these biscuits concealed until they left. Easier said than done, as they subsequently produced the equivilant of a five course banquet, offering more and more food every step of the way.

As I sit there with one hand grasping a pen, another nursing my newspaper and another clutching the biscuits, I realised there was no easy way out of this. The time had long since passed where it was acceptable for me to eat the biscuits, so I couldn't produce them now. It was then that the brilliant idea came to me of wedging the crackers between the pages of my newspaper! All in all, a smooth transition as I gently slid the provisions between World News and Finance.

Only when the geese arrived did my plan come undone.

As their beaks - the perfect height - leafed through the pages of The Evening Standard resting on my lap, I pondered how I could explain my way out of this state of affairs. Somehow "I suppose the birds want to see how their stock is doing" just wasn't going to cut it.

At that point, I had no choice but to leap from the bench and charge through the sea of pigeons, seagulls, ducks and crows that had since accumulated around the young man who possesses the inability to simply say "no". Fortunately, the trail of crumbs I left behind were promptly devoured leaving the old ladies with no hope of following me home to offer dessert.