Crowe Garden Design - Bespoke Garden Design In Essex

Each day brings sweet joy, sweet moments of pleasure that cannot be predicted or ever replicated. Monday had such a sweet moment, brief and fleeting, but sugar sweet and inspiring.

 

The school run, morning drop-off, the preferred option, collection is such a bore. Bumping along the country lanes, dodging the copious pot-holes and listening to the radio a small voice suddenly bursts into unexpected verbal download. "It's TP's birthday on the 10th."

 

A glance across and the download paused, the sort of pause that is instinctive to the stand-up or seasoned actor trained in the art of holding an audience. "Gaudi died on the 10th as well.". The glance across at this gem was rather more pronounced, almost generating the sharp crack of a whip as it snaps through the air. There was another professional pause, the audience was beholden to the performer; "He was hit by a tram."

 

There are country lanes and there are country lanes and for a split second the thought of a time-portal having sucked the car up and deposited us down into a surreal world flashed through the mind. "Why did a tramp hit him?" came the question from the back of the car. The car's clock appeared suspended, we were moving along the lane still but time had stopped. "Well, actually he had been hit on the 9th (sic) and died the next day."

 

This sweet moment was followed with exact date of birth and a rough explanation as to the style and career of the said Gaudi. So inspirational was it that on return to the office a few checks later and the extent of the detail was confirmed. But even so, it was still more important that TP had his birthday.

 

"Give me the child until he is seven, and I will show you the man", the future could be written in the country lanes of East Anglia.