I am thirty-nine years old. In six months time, I turn forty.
In those thirty-nine years I have opened countless tin cans. Be it a fruit cocktail with a disappointing cherry to people eating it ratio, a tasty chicken soup, some of those little sausages and beans or the ever-tricky corned beef, I have opened tins.
Tins do not phase me. I don’t struggle with them. Whether it’s a ring pull tin or one which needs to be opened old-school with a tin opener, I can manage them all. I was even, many years ago, at a bus stop in Leeds when a bus stop loon took it upon herself to explain to me that tins are heavy. A fact I couldn’t deny. If she’d just said a tin, then I’d have questioned her upper body strength. But tins, in the unspecified plural, can be heavy. So she was right.
And she was equally right when she went on to explain that they were heavy until you’d emptied out whatever was contained within. And then they were light.
Again, she wasn’t wrong. But, equally, she wasn’t someone you wanted to share a bus stop with for too long in case parts of your body ended up in those freshly emptied tins.
Anyway, nearly forty years of tin experience.
Tonight I opened a tin of beans and showered myself, and a good portion of the kitchen floor, in the tomato sauce.
I couldn’t move. I just stood in the kitchen clutching the tin in one hand, the ring pull lid in the other, saying, “Oh no!” a lot until Carole came running to my aid. And by aid I mean laughed at me, wiped the juice off my arm and forced me to remove my bean-stained t-shirt before I went upstairs to wash any remaining bean-derived moistness from my body.
To give you some idea of how covered I was, I shall try to explain.
At charity things, like Children In Need or Comic Relief of whatever, you’d often find two sorts of people. The people who would walk a distance with custard in their wellies, and the type who would bathe in a bath full of beans. Because nothing does more for charity than needless, but sponsored, food waste. I was more covered in bean juice that people who bathe in beans for charity. I think that’s fair to say. And I raised nothing for my efforts.