I observed the resultant dispute from my greengrocer’s shop. Each day, after Frida had bought meat and seafood for her restaurant, the butcher and fishmonger squared up to each other in the street. Here they would quarrel about who had the most right to propose to their beloved. Meanwhile, Frida purchased her fruit and vegetables.
Frida’s marriage to me rendered the butcher and fishmonger speechless. Then again, I was dumbstruck the day Frida ran off with the farmer who supplied me with carrots.