In the latest instalment of her Flower Diary, Misti suddenly starts worrying about her age. Luckily, Freddie is on hand with some lilies and roses…
It’s official. I’m now as close to 50 as I am to 20. Which is to say, it’s time to start lying about my age. Lying up, that is. Call me vain but I’d rather have people think I look great for 40 as opposed to a bit past it at 35.
Well I say that but the truth is I don’t actually mind getting older. Especially when the occasion coincides with an arrangement of white lilies from Freddie like it did this year. It was almost as if he knew Casa Blancas are my favourite.
Show of hands–Who can explain inset days to me? Before my daughter started reception on the 15th of September her school already had two such days. Then on the 26th they had another.
I have been told that inset days are teacher training days. Don’t get me wrong. Teacher training is important, but so too is actually having the children in school. N’est-ce pas?
Many reception students have found the transition from nursery rather difficult and the school has emphasized the importance of routine in helping them adjust. I agree which is why I’m baffled by how frequently their routine is disrupted by freaking inset days.
CUT TO: 26 SEPTEMBER (THIRD INSET DAY OF THE YEAR)
Being at a loose end, I took Helena to see the Georgia O’Keeffe exhibit at Tate Modern. We went with a friend of mine and her baby. I am embarrassed to admit that the four month-old was better behaved than my four year-old.
Helena could not hide her boredom which she punctuated with loud sighing. She also pretended to be Mowgli from The Jungle Book and sing The Bare Necessities at top volume. Whenever we’d step off an escalator she would immediately try to step on another headed in the opposite direction. You know those string barriers meant to prevent museum-goers from standing too close to the art? She tripped over one.
To cap it all off, she vanished as we were leaving the upstairs cafe. She was only a second or two ahead of us then suddenly she wasn’t anywhere. My heart nearly stopped. BOO! She jumped out and told us she was playing hide and go seek.
After leaving the museum, my daughter and I made amends and shared a long hug at the edge of the Thames in the shadow of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
On the way home we stopped off at Borough Market for Chegworth apples. They were so good we’d nearly eaten them all by the time we reached home. That weekend I had to restock. I’m embarrassed to say how many jars of chutney I’ve made and how many crumbles I’ve baked. God, I love apple season.
Recently, Freddie’s have delivered several arrangements that include roses, both red and white.
While roses are beautiful and have a lovely scent, it’s taken me years to realise exactly why I love them like I do. It’s because of Bailey Jane, my childhood dog.
There is a picture my mother took of her when I was young. In it, she is seated on the floral cushions atop our wicker lawn furniture. Next to her is an arrangement of pink and red roses.
This image is seared into my memory and because of it all things rosy or Maltese related will forever fill me with a happy sense of nostalgia. Which has me thinking… Perhaps it’s time for our family to get a dog of our own.
Misti Traya fell in love with an Englishman and moved from Los Angeles to London in 2009. After her daughter was born, she began a blog called Chagrinnamon Toast that won the writing category at the 2014 Young British Foodies. She was also named runner-up for the Shiva Naipaul Prize. She has written for Gawker, Jezebel, Look, Mslexia, The Pool, The Spectator, and Stella Magazine.