Feijoa king

I was working out of town today and drove to Palmerston North along with two colleagues from neighbouring organisations. We passed several fruit and vege market stalls on the way, but one advertising cheap feijoas caught one colleague's eye - she was planning a chutney-making session. We promised her we'd stop on the way home.

We almost missed the turnoff into a tiny country driveway with a handmade sign advertising feijoas for $1 per kilogram or two bags for $5. We followed the lane around a winding garden to a quaint little stall fitted with an honesty box. Lo and behold, another car had pulled up and we were actually a queue for feijoas next to a tiny country cottage. Now, I wouldn't say I dislike feijoas. I just never imaged they'd be something to queue for! The first car drove off with their purchase.

A bustling feijoa stand complete with honesty box

This is when the owner appeared. He was asked for four bags of feijoas for $10. The problem was, there was only one filled bag in the box; he would need to bag three more. If we could move our car out of the way, he could get started.

Hmm, ok. The driver moved our car further around the little garden roundabout and parked up to the right of the stall. 'No,' the owner said. 'What if another customer comes along and you're blocking their way?' Now, granted that we had already encountered one feijoa queue, we weren't exactly expecting an influx of traffic from the main road to fill up the tiny garden area in the next minute or so.

Still, he was insistent. The feijoas would not be bagged until we had driven around the tiny roundabout (again) and parked alongside the cottage so all the other customers could still get to the stall. Despite our protests, he snapped, 'it's just that I have three bags to fill and if you could just move then I can get started'. We laughed, but he didn't. The car was duly moved; the feijoas were bagged. We left, still laughing. No other customers came along.

I suppose we all need to feel like we're king of our own castle sometimes. Long live the Feijoa King!