The Scarlet Letter

The apple trees around Barford are blooming once again. I have mentioned before how much I covet my neighbour's apple tree. (See: "Deadly sins and Green-eyed monsters".) However, these days my pangs of envy are veering in a new direction. 

Today, as I walked through the quietly buzzing streets of our little village, I felt branded, not unlike Hawthorne's heroine, Hester Prynne. In Hawthorne's epic novel, The Scarlet Letter, Hester is forced to wear a scarlet "A" emblazoned across her chest, to indicate publicly her shameful status as an Adultress. 

The letter I feel I'm wearing is a Scarlet C, for Childless.

The other day was the first day of school here, and as I walked to the gym for my daily swim, I maneuvered through a swarm of adorable schoolchildren. It is such a cliche, isn't it? The "adorable, English schoolchildren." 

But, it is true! They are adorable! In their little red uniforms. The girls in late summer gingham, red and white, checkerboard print, down to their knees, and just a touch of lace detail on their collars. The boys in red summer jumpers, little white shirts, and dove grey short trousers. Adorable.

Sonia, the Lollipop Lady, was there of course, ushering them safely from one side of the road to the other. She's magic! A cross between Mrs. Santa and the Fairy Godmother from Cinderella. Love her! (More on her later.) 

One little boy, clearly starting his first day, was unsuccessfully holding back tears as he parted from mummy and daddy for the first time. Near by, another first day pupil, running with glee from his mother's side.

My own eyes filled with tears, as my senses were assaulted with a longing I have not felt before. 

Later, in the Village Shop. A gaggle of "Yummy Mummies," gathered around sharing stories and a cup of coffee outside the shop, in the late morning sunshine. I felt awkward and out of place. In the words of DCI Gene Hunt, from the brilliant TV series, "Ashes to Ashes," I was "more anxious, than a nun at a penguin shoot."

As I have fallen in with the W.I., my interactions with the "Yummy Mummy Brigade" have been negligible. When I'm with my W.I. chums, I'm the youngest of the bunch. To tell the truth, I never even think about age in that context. I love my W.I. chums and that's all. I don't think of them as older, younger, what have you. They just are.

But, when I see the YMs, I am reminding instantly that time is not on my side. That there is a giant clock in the sky ticking above my head. Perhaps, to add to my dismay, I should start wearing a giant watch around my neck like the rap star, Flava Flav!

(Oh dear, this is getting quite maudlin indeed.)  

On one hand I think I'm ready, and I know the DEB is (more than) ready for children. But, on the other hand, I do enjoy the freedom we have now. Pets, as much trouble as they are worth, are so much easier to manage in lots of ways!

So, that means even more "C's" for me: Cautious, Contemplating, and Comfortable.

 

Deadly sins and green-eyed monsters

Apple trees.

As I walked home from "Morning Prayer" at St. Peter's this morning, I realized my soul is in mortal danger. I am guilty of the deadly sin of envy. 

I covet my neighbo(u)r's apple tree. With the arrival of autumn and the shortening days, the apple tree in our next door neighbo(u)rs (a lovely Irishman and his very sweet girlfriend) garden has sprung into magnificent bloom. The tree is heavy with beautiful fruit, and some of the apples have begun to blush. 

Recently I have caught myself on a number of occasions, peering longingly at Kevin and Laura's apple tree from my office window. I want an apple tree. I DESERVE an apple tree! I have begun to obsess about apple trees. 

While we were out walking Lucy one late summer evening, D.E.B. and I began a conversation about eventually buying a house of our own -- we are only renting/letting this place for the time being.  We talked about the kind of place we dreamt of having. Thankfully, our tastes are very similar. We both prefer older homes to new. Cottages to townhouses or 'executive homes.' A garden is, of course, essential and fireplaces. But, above all else, I made it very clear that my most essential requirement is an apple tree! I have no idea whence this obsession with apple trees has come. Not so terribly long ago, I was a sassy Manhattan diva who would have openly and rampantly coveted another woman's Manolos, her handbag, her lipstick or her job. 

Speaking of shoes, my cute, little rain boots have become a real hit and the topic of many a conversation about the Village. 

They are adorable and I love them. I live in them. They are in fact, the most comfortable shoes I own. I wear them, rain or shine. I don't care, and I am quite spoiled about it. They are made by a company called "Western Chief" and the company's motto, stamped on the back of each boot, is: "Wear a Big Smile." And from the moment I saw them, all I did was smile. I bought them ages ago in NYC, and I lived in them even then, back in the City. The way I guess some folks are enamo(u)red of their UGG boots, though I fail to see the fascination there. I have friend who loathes UGG boots, and seeing people in them. To her, she says, the UGG boots, with their lamb's wool lining, always give the appearance of being 'smelly.' Well, my Wellies are not smelly, and have a cheering affect wherever I go. They have become my "conversation starters," and have facilitated many an introduction for me here. "Those are great Wellies, aren't they? Where did you get them?" I am often asked as I am out walking Lucy, or striding down the aisles in Sainsbury's. I stop, smile and say, "New York." And thus, a new acquaintance is made.  

So, perhaps we all have things that others might covet, desire or admire.