Not going to lie, I bloody love a fresh fig. Especially as when you get to a certain age, figs tend to aid activities other than fadoodling. But waking up this morning with a migraine and an upset stomach put a slight pall on my enthusiasm. Welcome to the results of Day 1 of the Everyday Folklore 3 Day Challenge!
Nevertheless, ever the consummate folklore professional, I went to my local greengrocer and got me a couple of figs and a pomegranate. While I do have an abundance of celery and walnuts at home, I eat them regularly (along with apples) and haven’t noticed being particularly stimulated as a result, so thought I should go the more exotic route (even though I have regularly raided the fig tree overhanging the Waitrose car-park). Both figs and pomegranates have long histories of being aphrodisiacs. It’s said the Mesopotamians had a fondness of pomegranates, while the Ancient Greeks were partial to a fig, with each fruit believed to have lustful and fecund properties.
I started with the fig. Stage One: with my stomach sloshing, I felt reasonably certain I was very turned off. Stage Two: I looked at the object of my desire, asked myself if I felt horny, and the reply was a resounding no. Stage Three: Went back into the kitchen and wafted my now cut fig under my nose, as it’s said the smell is supposed to work better than the taste. I sniffed, sniffed again, but on my third inhalation the smell had completely vanished. So, pretending I was trying on all the perfumes in Duty-Free, I took a heady whiff of coffee to return myself to a neutral olfactory state. Nowt. So I ate it. Tasted watery and the crunching of the seeds was very loud indeed. Stage Four: I took the opportunity to do a bit of digging on the fig while I waited for the magic to happen, but unfortunately Culpeper wrote a lot about figs and their leaves being an excellent remedy for warts, leprosy, running sores and congealed blood, which, unsurprisingly made me feel slightly worse. Stage Five: After about half an hour, I looked at the object of my desire, asked myself if I felt horny, and the reply wasn’t a resounding no but it certainly wasn’t a whip your clothes off, big boy, you’ve scored either.
It was then I realised I was probably going to need a hard anti-fantasy reset to quell any lingering feelings the fig might have mustered. I had planned on using the Frankenstein monster-like row of stitches my cat has across her throat due to a recent fetid cyst removal to flatline me, but she was hiding under the bed. So Stage One: I looked at a photo of a failed politician I particularly dislike. Worked like a charm. Stage Two: I looked at the object of my desire, asked myself if I felt horny, and the reply was still no. Stage Three: had a couple of teaspoons of pomegranate (much more than six seeds, but so far I haven’t been required to spend as many months in the underworld). Stage Four: Did some more research and found out that the skin of a pomegranate was once used as a contraceptive. Stage Five: After about twenty minutes, I was beginning to feel all hot and flushed. Taking this as a sign, I looked at the object of my desire, asked myself if I felt horny, and felt the same, hot and flushed. So I’m guessing instead of being overwhelmed with passion, I’ve probably got the beginnings of a temperature.
I’m a tiny bit disappointed my earth didn’t move, but will probably try again when I feel a bit better. The folklore wasn’t quite for the win for me today, but how about you? Let me know how you got on in the comments below… Also, congratulations on finishing Day 1 of the Everyday Folklore 3 Day Challenge! 🥳 And see you back here tomorrow for Day 2!