The woman in the supermarket queue had interrupted my thoughts. I turned to look at her.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said, and turned away again. I was acutely aware of what I had dropped. I had hoped she wouldn’t notice. I felt my neck redden as I tried to look absorbed in emptying my basket on to the conveyor belt.

‘I picked it up,’ she went on, ‘and I thought you might want to take it back.’

It couldn’t be done, I knew that. I looked at her, not knowing what to say. At last the words came. ‘ I am sorry. I only wish I could take it back.. I hope you will forgive me.’

She threw me a warm smile, which I caught neatly and tossed back to her. She said, ‘It is possible, if you try. An insensitive remark dropped inadvertently can be taken back if you are willing to admit the mistake. It is possible to eat your words. I will hand them to you on a plate.’ She took a plate from her handbag, and found a fork in her coat pocket. On the moving belt was a humble pie. I took a knife from my breast pocket and cut myself a slice to eat with my words. I may have looked strange standing in the queue, tucking into this snack.

The assistant at the till said, ’Excuse me, you haven’t paid for these items yet.’ I apologised again, assuring her that I had every intention of doing so, before cutting another slice and swallowing it with a lump of pride.

My companion watched everything slide down my throat, never to be seen or heard of again. I told her my name was Spud. I asked her for her phone number. She had me on a piece of string. A week later I gave her a ring, a diamond one, and asked if she would be prepared to tie the knot. She said she would knot, and dropped me like a hot potato.