Confessional: The Scotch Egg Incident of 2011

 I first told this story to my group in University and on a roll repeated it to my table at the Village Casino night.

They say confession is good for the soul.

So my soul should be squeaky clean.

By now….

Picture this…..Trelawnyd 2011….It’s summer August 13th ….Sylvia Evan’s blood pressure is through the roof as she and us, her Flower Show minions, set up for another record breaking show. 

Domestic class entries are through the roof, this year and as usual I’m helping with the organised madness that is Judging Day.

It’s 11.55 am and setting up closes at midday.

Sylvia is very strict with her timings 

Mona Davies arrives breathless, with seconds to spare . Her entry, a scotch egg, the only one in its class , wrapped in clingfilm on a saucer in her hand .

The scotch egg, is huge, the size of German grenade.

It is a thing of pure beauty 

I almost heard heavenly music when I first set eyes on it 

Now I liked Mona. She was a spinster school teacher and elder sister of farmer Basil , one of the most highly respected countrymen of Trelawnyd . They shared the beautiful Ochr y Gop farm, a slightly dilapidated Georgian farmhouse at the top of high street, and I was lucky enough to interview them both for my history blog , oral histories which have now been archived by the National Welsh Library in Aberystwyth. http://trelawnydhistory.blogspot.com/2011/05/mr-basil-davies-miss-mona-davies.html

Mona was strict and fair. She didn’t suffer fools either and was an amazing cook.

I fell in love with that scotch egg the second I saw it

Look closely the egg can be seen centre table to left

Now of course Mona won first prize for her glorious egg. 

The elderly judge, who was not know for flights of fancy , even commented how magnificent it was and gave it a comment of merit which was a rarity 

Now fast forward to the Flower Show final moments which have always remained a complete bunfight

The hall is packed with winners collecting their winnings (coins placed  in tiny brown envelopes) and exhibitors grabbing their certificates, exhibits and extra cakes bought from the tea table manned by Irene Murray .

And in just a few minutes the hall can be stripped, like a carcass surrounded by hyenas .

I noticed that the scotch egg had been abandoned at the end of the day

Mona had left it ! 

I was joyful 

Excited 

And devious.

If it had been abandoned I was having it.

So I pocketed it as deftly as if I was jewel thief and

I hid it in my Flower Show bits and bats box as the show folded and the doors closed. 

I had swept the floor, put away the rubbish and said goodbye to most of the committee, before there was a small knock on the Hall door. 

It was Mona and she was late collecting her scotch egg.

Sylvia found the saucer and Mona’s first place certificate but was thin lipped in anger at the thought someone had taken the egg home. 

We shook our heads at the awful thought someone had stolen it 

And Mona took her certificate home with a slightly heavy heart

Am I ashamed ? 

Of course I am

But do you know what? 

It was the best bloody scotch egg I have ever tasted

EVER!!!!

The delightful Mona Davies

Shortly before her death in 2021

The egg in close up