if you’ve walked on the coastal path out of Shanklin on the Isle of Wight towards Ventnor, you’ve probably come across a table of jams and an honesty box. This is the work of the Luccombe jam man. He’s been at it for years.
This morning my partner asked me, ‘is it the same honesty box as when he started?’ ‘Does he take it in at night?’ ‘Is he watching from behind the curtains with binoculars?’ ‘How long would this work in a city?’
I’ve been thinking about open heartedness in my practice. How scary this is – so many opportunities to be hurt or drained. How often does the jam go unpaid for?
But it lifts my heart to think that either he continues regardless, or that people are good and honest – either works. I wonder if a postcard to the Luccombe jam man, Luccombe, IoW would find him? I wonder, in this city, what is my jam equivalent?