Helen Hudson

I encountered this ‘ESTATE SALE’ on my morning walk. It was all unusable junk: lice-laden sofas, broken chairs, rusted weights from ancient barbells, cheap, bent silverware and clothes so stained and dog-haired, I’d be embarrassed to put them on a hangar. The nicest item was the white tent, which at first I mistook for a crime scene. Who keeps this garbage and why was there a line of people waiting to buy it? As a therapist, I’m well aware of the stuff people hang onto in their heads.

Lest you think I’m not cool, here I am hanging out at Tumerico. According to YELP, it was the #1 pick of ‘the best restaurants in the USA’ in 2024! I always order the Frida Kahlo; a fresh tostada piled high with rice, beans, veggies and topped with a cashew cream sauce. It melts in your mouth smooth as butter; quite the opposite of Frida’s own rough, turbulent and painful life. Throughout history, great art has often been created by those whose lives were riddled with pain.

Lately, I’ve been brushing up on all things British so asked a friend from Rugby to catch me up on the lingo over lunch. Towards the end, she asked, “Oh! Have you ever had a spotted dick?” That caught me off-guard. What was that? A you-know-what with spots? Some kind of fish? A polka dot dickey? Took awhile for that penny to drop but honestly? For a moment, I felt a few sandwiches short of a picnic. “Oh, I know it means something different in the States,” she smiled. No kidding.