I popped into the kitchen to slice some cheddar and rinse the grapes. David had really gone all out—bought so much stuff, I was proper chuffed. I decided to stash the leftover cheese and grapes in the fridge. When I opened the door, there it was… a salad in a crystal bowl, all chopped up and neatly arranged like it was waiting for its moment. I froze, totally gobsmacked. Where on earth did that come from? David and I definitely hadn’t made anything like that.
Our little family is just me, David, and our son Oliver. We get on like a house on fire, though like any family, we have our little surprises now and then. David loves treating us to nice bits—he often stops by the Tesco after work and brings home something tasty: maybe fancy cheeses, exotic fruits, or sweet treats. That day, he came back with a whole bag of groceries: different cheeses, grapes, some posh deli meats, and fresh bread. I laughed and said he must’ve decided to feed an army. We were planning a quiet evening, just dinner and a film, nothing special. I got started prepping, sliced the cheese, washed the grapes, but there wasn’t enough room on the table. So I thought I’d pop the extras in the fridge to keep fresh.
Then I opened the fridge—and there was that crystal bowl. We’ve got a set that belonged to my nan, but I hardly ever use it, save it for special occasions. And inside the bowl? A salad: fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, herbs, dressing glistening like it’d just been made. I even rubbed my eyes, thinking I was seeing things. David and I definitely hadn’t made any salad, and Oliver’s too little for that kind of cooking. Plus, who’d put a salad in the good crystal? That bowl’s practically a family heirloom!
I called David over. He peeked into the fridge, stared at the bowl, and looked just as baffled. “You didn’t make this, did you?” he asked. I shook my head. We started guessing—maybe one of the neighbours popped in and left it? But the door was locked, and no one had been round. Maybe I’d forgotten making it? Nah, I’d been cleaning all day, not cooking. David even joked that maybe a gremlin had fancied treating us. We had a laugh, but it still felt a bit odd.
Oliver heard us chatting and came running into the kitchen. “Mum, it’s probably a fairy!” he said, dead serious. His imagination made us smile, but the mystery was still unsolved. We tried the salad—it was lovely, fresh, with a light dressing of olive oil and lemon. Nothing fancy in the ingredients, but how it ended up in our fridge in the crystal bowl was proper puzzling.
Then it hit me—my mate Sarah had dropped by that morning. She sometimes comes round for a cuppa when she’s out for a walk. I rang her up and asked if she’d left anything in our fridge. Sarah laughed and owned up. Turns out, she’d made the salad for her family dinner, but her fridge broke, so she thought she’d stash it at ours till she got home. Since I’d been busy cleaning, she didn’t want to bother me and just popped it in the fridge. She used the crystal bowl to make it look nice and thought we’d twig it was hers straightaway.
David and I breathed a sigh of relief. No gremlins or fairies after all—just Sarah being Sarah. But it became a bit of an adventure for us. Oliver still asks now and then if there’s any “magic food” appeared in the fridge. And I always double-check what’s in there before putting stuff away now. Sarah apologised, but we just had a laugh. She even said next time she’d make a salad specially for us.
This little story reminded me how important it is to cherish those moments. Life’s full of surprises, and even a simple salad in a crystal bowl can turn into a proper family laugh. David and I reckoned we’d surprise Sarah next time—maybe sneak something tasty into her fridge when she least expects it. And that crystal bowl? I use it more often now, not just for special occasions. It’s become a little reminder that even on an ordinary day, there’s always room for a bit of magic.
