You know you’re in Cheshire when…
Let me just start by saying that Cheshire is not boring. It’s hip, it’s happening and it has a whole host of interesting National Trustproperties. It’s ideally located (close to the motorway network, trains, a couple of stonking airports) and has a wide variety of garden centres too. What more could anyone want? In short, Cheshire is just great. It is not, as Jeremy Clarkson regularly suggests, tacky.
OK, there are a lot of very orange people who live there. And women with stripy hair. And men who refer to their children as ‘kidlets.’ But even now, in the depths of the economic apocalypse, Cheshire interior designers and feng shui consultants are flourishing. And you should see the queues at ‘Onyx World’ on a Saturday morning.
But I’m digressing.
I happened to be in my local park over the weekend with my children*, who were doggedly endeavouring to fly a kite. I was sitting there with my little Thermos mug of tea, reading my Kindle , hoping the kids wouldn’t let go of the string or hang each other, when I overheard a conversation between two eight year olds. Reader, I’ll admit it, I’m nosey. Here’s the exchange:
Kid 1: Can I come to yours for tea tonight?
Kid 2: You can come if you promise not to embarrass me.
Kid 1: (incredulous) How would I embarrass you?
Kid 2: Look Josh, we don’t want a repeat of last time, do we?
Kid 1: What happened last time?
Kid 2: That thing you said. In front of everyone.
Kid 1: What did I say??
Kid 2: You said that you’ve never tried amuse-bouche! It was, like, sooo uncool.
Cheshire, you see. A place of unique charm.
