Again! Again!

I met a very small pixie today, she was pretending to be a tiny girl with very large brown eyes but I wsn’t fooled. She was obviously a pixie.

I am at home today, surrounded by parents, parents friends and that whole ‘small village’ thing where everybod knows your name and your business and obviously they know it better than you do. I don’t mind so much I guess, several pieces of advice were unexpected and good. Such as ‘you’d do better in Thailand’ (and what precisely did you mean by that Sugar Lady?) Some were pissing annoying but I won’t go there.

Anyway I retreated from the jolly barbeque crowd feeling surrounded on all sides by people, just….people everywhere. And all of them people who’ve been doing the exact same things for the whole of my life but somehow able to give me pertinent advice on mine? Oh really? Too many grown ups making comments so I ran away down the garden path to hide under the blackberry bushes.

I admit that being twenty two and recoursing to a strategy first developed when four and used successfully until I was thirteen may well have been a little on the strange side. However, it did work, nobody followed me beyond the vegetable garden and then the Boules tournament started (and my Mother entered us!) so everyone started to gather on the lawn anyway. I looked around my (strangely smaller than I remembered it) hidey-hole and discovered that it had been taken possession of by a pixie.

Cross-legged, chin on folded hands and with a very serious expression in her big brown eyes she looked up at my invasive form. So I knew I couldn’t really tell her that ‘hey this was my place first ok that might have been a good nine years ago now but even so!’ She looked me up and down with those serious brown eyes so I said.
‘I’m Mish’
and she nodded. It was at this point that I realised that it was deffinately a pixie I was looking at, she told me as much later on, so what does one do when faced with a pixie? Sensibly (I thought) I apologised for trespassing on what was clearly her ground.
She told me that it was ok, she was only looking after it for Granchie…clearly some elder pixie, she went on to tell me not to eat the blackberries because they weren’t ripe. I had obviously gained her favour (this was made clearer to me because later in the evening she told my Dad to eat some pie which didn’t look good to her – he had clearly not gained her favour). So what to do about it, I didn’t really want to go back out with the grown ups again who would only tell me horrible things and give me advice based around what they had read in the Mail ealier that week.
‘Grown ups are annoying’
Oh yes pixie, never was a truer word spoken.
‘They tell you what to do and they don’t never know.’
So I sat under a blackberry bush and let a four year old pixie tell me what to do with my life. She had some very good ideas.
And it was fun watching her try to poison my Dad later in the evening.
My sister and The Builder came second in the Boules match.