The Kiwi Problem

A kiwi, an old song, and the problem with circular logic.

Photo by Lucas van Oort on Unsplash

I swore

I own up to using expletives before 8am. This was too much stress for the start of a day when I was doing my best to create a healthy diet for us. On the fourth attempt, the voice inside my head that encourages naughty things was speaking loudly and told me to give up, get a knife and????? fruit?

The battle was taking place in the kitchen. I was preparing the breakfast tray and had gone out on a limb and bought a kiwi fruit. I try to get fruit that doesn’t take too much preparation. You know, peel the banana or sprinkle some blueberries. I do get the scissors out and cut up the dried apricots to add some variety every so often but the kiwi was something different.

I had reached for my potato peeler which had never let me down. Together we had faced the toughest of skins on turnips and swedes and always come out the victors. But here was a conniving fruit looking all innocent with a reputation of deliciousness and goodness that was not going to be easily undressed. As I ran water over the blade of the peeler yet again, I heard ‘then hone it dear Henry’ in my head and the velvet tones of Harry Belafonte singing ‘There’s a hole in my bucket’!

Apart from the humour, this song has a moral about the futility of circular logic. That is when in an argument A is said to be true because of B, and then says B is true because of A.

For example:

There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

 Then mend it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then mend it, dear Henry, dear Henry, mend it.

With what shall I mend it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw.

The straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it.

With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With a knife, dear Henry, dear Henry, a knife.

The knife is too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, hone it.

With what shall I hone it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, a stone.

The stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
 Then wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.

With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, with water.

In what shall I fetch it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, in a bucket.

But there’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole. 

Emily Charlotte Powell

So, back to the kiwi fruit. Potato peelers are not the sort of things you sharpen or hone and certainly not by wetting them and rubbing them on an abrasive stone. I had found in the past that running the blade under a tap did help its cutting ability but not this time.

Now, I wasn’t having an argument as such, so no circular logic but what was entirely futile was the time I was spending trying to get the blade to work. I have a selection of knives that would have been perfectly suitable, so why did I insist on continuing? Well, I wanted to remove all the skin without losing the majority of the fruit so that I could slice it.

You’ll want to know the ending of this sorry tale, I’m sure. Well - I carried on with the peeler and water. Got the skin off and sliced the blasted thing up.

I also went out and replaced the peeler!

Have you got an example you can share where logic and good sense just went out of the window?