My Mystery Place

I hitch up my blue dress.  It was stupid of me to wear something so long on such a showery day.  I’m trying to soak up the feeling of freedom being barefoot but I’m distracted by the wetness wicking up my legs instead.  

I squint with the light of the sky to see how much more of this I have to endure.  The fine rain is twinkling through the light of the summer sunshine.   Blinking as water drops into my eyes, I look down at the rising damp of my dress.  I hold the material higher in both hands knowing that scrunching up the damp cotton will irrevocably crease it.  I comfort myself knowing Elizabeth Bennet had the same problems on her way to Rosings.  

I look to see if a dashing young beau is about to lose his heart to the girl in the hippy dress.  In the distance there are a couple of young children skipping about. Nope, slow down girl, that fantasy is a bit further down the line.   I can hear their squeals of delight and I’m pleased they are not nearer.  I love children, but not today. Sighing, I pick my way to the path where there’s a sign, hopefully, telling me where to get a grown-up coffee.  Oops! It says “KEEP OFF THE GRASS”.

Instead of a handsome young man I’m now desperately looking around to see if a groundsman has spotted me.   I’m not very brave when it comes to explaining such a wilful act as walking on the grass.   My anxiety worsens. What if I never get married and have children?  Happy old memories of being here are replaced by clear and present panic about my future. And this time I can add lawn flattener to my list of accomplishments.

 

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