I recently met a woman for the first time – a mother, like me, and really a perfectly charming, fashionable-looking and smiley person who I liked right away. One of things I particularly liked about her was that within five minutes of meeting me she told me, very emphatically, that she was…. a pumpkin whore. The particular object of her desire could be found at Starbucks.

starbucks-pumpkin-spice-latteNothing about that appeals to me. But it is clear that she is not alone. There are opportunities for Pumpkin whoredom popping up all over the place. Like this:

dunkinAnd this:

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And even (although I’m really not sure anyone eats them) these…

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‘Tis the season to eat pumpkin, I guess.

It turns out that this obsession with the big orange squashy thing is everywhere. Last week I went into school to meet with Child 3’s teacher and she gave me, as a gift, a pumpkin. A pumpkin. Can you imagine that UK mothers? No. And this was not a big pumpkin for carving, mind. This was little one, a sugar pumpkin she told me… for making pie.

Well, what was I supposed to do with that? No! Yes! You’ve got it. I made pumpkin pie.

Actually to be more accurate I made pumpkin pie filling and bought the pastry. It is pretty common, I’m told, to buy the pumpkin puree in a can, but with that little orange sucker sitting in my fridge, I had to go for it. But here’s the weird thing. While I was mixing up all the pumpkin with the eggs and sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg, I felt impelled to grab my phone and use TuneIn Radio to listen to The Archers on Radio Four. What was that about?? Was I (am I??) becoming so Americanised that some small part of my psyche knew I needed to listen to the longest running (and let’s face it, totally boring) radio soap in the universe. Did I just need to hear that theme tune and those middle England voices in order not to lose my  normal, non-pumpkin whoring identity? I know it sounds weird. But that’s because it was. Very weird.

For the uninitiated on this side of the pond, here is a the theme tune for the Archers. You don’t need to know any more than this 😉

The pie, for the record, came out pretty well. Except I didn’t know you were supposed to serve whipped cream with it. Thanks are due, through gritted teeth, to Child 3 for letting me know right away that I’d got that wrong. She seemed to cope pretty well with ice cream instead. Brat.

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