A friend at the weekend expressed concern that I was in danger of becoming a recluse. Perhaps it was my ‘waxing lyrical’ as to the tried and tested techniques for setting mole traps, or the huge heap of kindling, a result of many a happy hour with my axe which alerted her radar to the prospect of me going native.
‘But I do work at least 2 days a week in an office, with lots of people and I chat to my new found commuting friends on the train’, I protested.
‘And just who are you seeing the rest of the week?’ She quickly retorted.
‘The pigs……and the chickens…..’ I was interrupted.
‘Human contact!!’
I had to think long and hard.
‘Well, there is our neighbour’…..her simile only lasted a miniscule of a second as I finished my sentence, ‘we regularly discuss the vagaries of his tractor hydraulics and he was only telling me the other day, how important it is to check the oil level every day’.
The expression on her face said it all – a combination of sorrow and utter disbelief.
Reflecting on our conversation, I decided to make a visit it was time to embrace social integration. A friendly letter, from the lady who collects the subscriptions to the village newsletter seemed a good starting point. Off I went and had a lovely hour, chatting over a cup of mellow birds by a warm Rayburn. My new friend suggested that the solution to my social predicament lay with the Women’s Institute.
The Women’s Institute?? But I’m not even 35 I muttered to myself as I trudged back up the hill reflecting on my morning.
With work not scheduled until later in the week, I began to think my friend may well have had good reason to be concerned. I sat at my desk to ponder and hey presto, lurking in the pile of generator manuals – a drinks invitation for an office opening – tonight!! Who says I’ve gone native??! I changed out of my scruffs and into suit and heels in record time and couldn’t wait to sip champagne, mingle, discuss ground breaking professional matters……..see people!!
The reality was that after all of about 10 minutes of being talked at by a rather pompous tweed suit, a glass of warm sparkling wine in one hand and the other wrestling with an overly large canapé, I found myself hankering after a cup of mellow birds with my new friend.
Jam and Jerusalem, here I come!!
