Slow Down, You Move too Fast!
I was riding down Abbot’s Hill, along the side of the abandoned railway embankment, when the sleek black cat sauntered across the cycle path, then leapt to pat at a fly. This slowed my progress enough for me to see the little girl and to know that she was about to run across in front of me. As I braked I heard her mother’s warning; I’m sure she did not!
A tolerant mother she was, for her daughter was dressed in new clothes – third birthday finery perhaps. A white, flower-printed dress and white tights with new party shoes: no doubt very smart in her own eyes. The little one must have been walking along the top of the bank, despite brambles and nettles waiting to catch her legs. Why wear jeans on your birthday?
As I watched, the girl ran from her mother, who was on the wrong side of the pushchair to catch her, up the bank a step or two, where she snatched up a new rag doll, all gingham dress and red plaited hair, and ran back across my path.
‘Worth risking your life for,’ smiled her mother. The doll was real to the little girl; who could doubt that her mother would as spontaneously risk her life for her dear one? There’s a thought for Eastertime.