His and Her Enormous Watermelons
Here in our small town in Italy, we often see an elderly couple at the local supermarket. We’ve named them Bill and Betty. I doubt their Italian names are anything close to that, but giving nicknames to Italians we see often helps us give a quick reference when chatting about who we saw when out around town. We only ever see Bill and Betty at the fruit and vegetable aisle in the supermarket doing the same ritual. The old gent, Bill, picks up a piece of veg, smells it, inspects it, and if it passes the test, he carefully places it in the basket which Betty stands holding, patiently waiting for each verdict.
“Don’t forget we need to stop at the supermarket and get a bottle of prosecco,” I say to Ronan on our way to our friend’s house for an afternoon swim, which is naturally followed by an early aperitivo.
“I’ll get a watermelon to take with us too,” Ronan says as we enter the shop and see Bill and Betty.
Watermelons are rampant here at the moment. They are enormous. Carrying them to the cash desk is like an Ironman challenge, but they are the most refreshing thing to munch, during the current 37C days we are having.
Bill and Betty must think the same, as Bill is standing at the large crate of huge watermelons tapping each one with his head bent close.
“What do you think he is listening for?” Ronan asks while I choose a bunch of grapes to take with us also.
“A little hello from inside perhaps?” I say. “Do you think a hollow sound is good or a dull sound is bad? Or would hollow be bad and dull would mean good?” Ronan says, watching Bill carry his chosen watermelon to the cash desk.
“I said hello not hallow. I don’t know if a hallow sound would be good or bad, but a hello would be just freaky.”
I head to the Prosecco aisle and leave Ronan to weigh the grapes behind the usual hoard of German and Dutch camping tourists doing their grocery shopping.
But Ronan decides not to queue, instead Ronan being Ronan goes along tapping each watermelon and holding his head close trying to figure out, or given some divine sign, which would be the best watermelon to buy.
I’m at the cash desk at this stage waiting to pay for the Prosecco and in earshot of the fruit aisle. A Dutch tourist approaches Ronan and starts speaking Italian, Ronan, who doesn’t speak any Italian, asks “Can you speak English?” “Oh yes, great, I am sorry for my poor Italian,” the tourist says to Ronan.
“Can you choose one for me?” he says, pointing at the watermelons. Instead of picking one at random and exiting stage left as quickly as possible, I watch as Ronan goes from watermelon to watermelon, tapping each with his ear close to the crate. A small attentive crowd gathers to watch The Watermelon Tapper before Ronan announces confidently in his best Italian speaking English accent. “This one. Choose-o-this-a-one-a.”
I can’t take the embarrassment any longer so I go wait in the car.
Through the supermarket’s large plate-glass window, I can see several tourists tapping watermelons and listening for the magical mystery sound.
Ronan sits into the car all smiles to himself.
“Ronan,” I say. “Where are the grapes?”
“Oh sorry, I left them down. I got distracted choosing a watermelon.”
“And where is the watermelon?”
“Oh crap… I forgot that too.”
