Walking with friends is excellent, but very bad for observing nature.
Walked today with McNells, a gorgeous Horley Mummy with that sort of swishy honey-blonde hair that makes a brunette feel grumpy. We have matching green Joules jackets (I copied), and kept imagining we looked like a couple of les-beans. McNells tried to hold my hand, and I shot into a hedge in horror.
We had B in a buggy, and we yattered all the way to the Scout Woods and back. I didn’t notice very much around me, except for an impression of exhausted brown-ness and the steepness of the hill once a buggy was involved.
Back in Horley, we were accosted by a lady in an Audi, driving behind a ginormous bump. She turned out to be McNellie’s new neighbour, 38 weeks pregnant and looking as healthy and happy as a Musto advert.
‘Pop round,’ she said. ‘Any time!’
I imagined she meant McNells more than me, and I backed away, looking for Dora. I grabbed her just before she legged it into the Nicholls’ immaculate garden for a sneaky crap.
We waved as the new neighbour drove up Clump, and I was distracted by the fat black buds of a nearby ash.
‘Oh, Spring,’ said McNells, as B woke up. ‘Everyone’s having babies.’
Except me, I thought, wandering home.