I was privileged to work with children for decades. They taught me so much about the limitations of being a grown-up.
This hit me last weekend. Each year our local charities raise money by charging people to visit West Woods - known for their carpets of bluebells. Sunday was sunny - and the woods were full of visitors. But there is plenty of room for everyone, for these bluebells stretch for miles, or so it seems.
For once, I'll give you pictures:
Who wouldn't want to wander here?
Or here?
Just imagine you're six, and seeing this for the first time! That blue that shimmers, sparkles in the sunlight. That smell - though if you breathe too deeply it will make you cough. I was well-behaved enough, at six, to know I shouldn't pick them (though I wanted to) - but even now how I longed to run through them. Or even lie down, to make a bed in them, to have bluebells tickle my nose and whisper spring secrets in my ears.
I didn't, of course. I even took sensible routes to avoid the mud. But sometimes I wish we could shake off our adult expectations. Wouldn't it be wonderful to abandon grown-upness and rediscover bluebells for the first time?
