This is a jar of Holkham Norfolk Chutney.

[EDIT: see PIC 1 below]

The tale of the neglect of this jar of Chutney cuts deeply, for you see, this is no ordinary supermarket Chutney. Oh no. This Chutney was hand made by one Ebanezer Cottage, possibly the greatest hand-maker of Norfolk Chutney in all of Norfolk. Possibly not, I must admit, my knowledge of the lore of hand-made Norfolk Chutney is embarrassingly slender: So slender in fact that I do not know whether this Ebanezer Cottage is a man, a place or indeed a Zen-like state of mind one must enter in order to hand make Norfolk Chutney.

But I digress..

I was given this jar of Holkham Norfolk Chutney as a gift by friends travelling the North-Norfolk coast.

I believe strongly in the importance of trying new things,so as you can imagine, at the first opportunity I eagerly popped the lid from the jar and slathered a good portion of the contents onto cold chicken placed into a wholemeal sandwich, expecting a sweet yet tangy flavour conjuring the sounds and smells of the Indian subcontinent (it is called chutney after all) but was horrified when my taste buds were attacked by it's acrid vinegary taste conjuring more the experience of probing the deepest recesses of an old leather couch with one's tongue.

It turns out that Norfolk Chutney is basically yellow pickle.

So, not only is this abandoned chutney hand made, it was also a gift. Oh how the woe doth grow.

[EDIT: See PIC 2 below]

The above photo adds to the tragedy, for you see this Chutney does not expire for over a year and knowing myself, I will not be throwing it out until the bitter end in case I miraculously decide that I want to try it again, despite knowing the whole time that I'll never try it in a Moorean paradox that will continue until the Chutney has grown itself a little grey hat.