Okay, folks, today’s post features my wife, Yvonne. Please don’t take the image the wrong way – all will be explained shortly :-). Yvonne comes from Birmingham, the UK’s second city, whereas I hail from a small country town in rural Yorkshire.
Obviously, our mind-sets were therefore slightly different – she, a modern city girl and me – well, I did escape a lot. And it is a constant joy to recall the time Yvonne first visited my home town.
The market rules
Looking resplendent with her perfect blonde hair, modern but elegant clothes, and more than the odd plunging neckline, the first meeting with my father – already retired and a countryman through and through – came to a delightful phase when he asked if she’d like to see the market.
In city-speak ‘the market’ means lots of clothes stalls where bargains are to be had, so you can imagine her puzzlement upon turning the corner to see dozens of enclosures containing mooing and bleating cows and sheep.
Walk with the animals
To a stunned Yvonne, the sight of a bull trying to jump an enclosure to become friends with a number of cows was then crowned by my father waving his walking stick in the air and declaring: ‘come on, get up there.’
A further highlight was obviously when my father suggested she went to see the pigs. Politely, she said yes – although it took rather a long time to clean her high heels after walking through a level carpeting of …
… well, I’ll let you picture it yourself.
Over the following decades we have been together, our various upbringings have led to a virtual see-saw of living first in the country and then in the city, but in maturity I’m pleased to inform you that we both decided the countryside would win.
Yet it is an important fact that our present location is in easy commuting distance of two cities – and a large number of markets to which she can identify.
© Anthony North, August 2007
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