Goodbye to pepper pots and all that

YOU'D think it would be done in a shake. Looking for a new set of salt and pepper pots – or a cruet as my mum insists on calling it – should hardly be life's most difficult task.

But like our eternal hunt for a vacuum cleaner that actually vacuums and a fridge freezer that doesn't get hotter than the oven (that trail at least is now at an end), our search for a salt and pepper mill is like the one for the Holy Grail – without the Monty Python humour.

In fact it's been a real grind. (Oh! Come on! No columnist worth their salt would miss that one!)

The wood and acrylic salt and pepper pots we've had for several years have never really done their thing – not as far as my husband is concerned, anyway. He complains that the salt doesn't as much sprinkle as spit, and that he has to twist the pepper mill long enough to double his biceps before anything resembling ground pepper hits his food. I don't have that problem, oddly. And I don't have a physique like Popeye's either, so one of us is telling fibs.

But then my other half (he's the salt and I'm the pepper?) has always preferred white pepper from a cheap little plastic tub to the 'posh black stuff '. I set out the table beautifully – crockery, glasses, snowy white cloth – light the candles to give a romantic ambience; prepare to serve up the best Nigel, Nigella or Gordon can offer – and what will he do?

Stick a grotty little plastic Saxa pot right in the middle of my artistry and proceed to plaster the stuff all over whatever I place in front of him.

So it's aesthetics rather than taste buds that have set me off on the search again.

I have read cruet reviews, asked for recommendations and spent considerable time shaking, grinding and twiddling to find the very best salt and pepper pots around. In the end I took the advice of a very nice girl in Lawson's, who suggested I went home with two pots resembling rabbits.

Their see-through bodies held the salt and pepper, and a squeeze of their ears deposited their contents on to our food. We tried not to think too much about the biological parallels –especially given the appearance of peppercorns – and all seemed to go well. Pepper-induced Popeye husband could even adjust the grinding mechanism to get the kind of ground-to-death pepper he wanted.

The cheap plastic pepper pot was banished – until, one day, rabbit number one broke in half and deposited its contents all over a plate of spaghetti. Rabbit number two was left bereft and rejected – as he too threatened to split his sides.

So the search is still on for the perfect salt and pepper mill. Someone has even suggested the electronic variety.

But what is the condiment world coming to when I need batteries to pepper my pasta? So if you know where I can find this elusive answer to life, the cruet set and everything – be a love and pass the source.

ALL GOOD things must come to an end, and, as I've just elaborated, even those who try to be good grind to a halt in the end – so this is my final column for The Herald.

Changes are afoot in the newspaper world and The Herald is no exception. Freelancers like me cost money. And costs must be cut, so my tenure is at an end.

For six-and-a-half years I have written every week – without fail – on life in Plymouth and life in general. I have made friends with so many readers through this page and enjoyed a fair bit of good-natured argument, too.

What will I miss? Well, I won't miss being taken far too seriously; misquoted or misunderstood. But I will miss writing about this city of so much untapped potential. I will miss raving about what is so good about it: the 'Ooh!' view that greets us as we reach the Hoe; the city's perfect location between moor and sea; our fabulous theatre; the rise and rise of the Plymouth Philharmonic Choir. (Not literally, you understand.)

But most of all I will miss this unique connection with the people of Plymouth; the lovely readers who have sent everything from socks to fig roll biscuits to Get Well cards in response to my musings – bless you. (And Glenholt WI – I am sorry I haven't had time to characterise you all as promised!) I so value those who have taken time to say thank you, to join in debates, share concerns, make me laugh and who just brighten my day by being kind and so much fun. Thank you.

I won't be writing another newspaper column for now – unless The Guardian or The Independent call. There are other doors to open and other things to do. And anyway, as Katharine says in Shakespeare's Henry VIII: 'I wish no other herald; no other speaker of my living actions…'

And if I can't sign off with a bit of my beloved Shakespeare – who can I sign off with?

God Bless and lots of love. Wendy.