If Only Time Stood Still

In the end we didn’t go for a long walk yesterday. We went for a short walk down to the pub. The girls took wheels. E her big bike, G her scooter, L her little bike with stabilisers. It is a ghastly confection of pink and white with shiny bunches of silver, pink and purple tassles bursting from the handles. The girls love it. I remember buying it in London for E’s third birthday. Now here it was, looking incongruous in the country lane. The little person on top of it was not much better. I had foolishly allowed her to dress herself and she appeared at the breakfast table in full party kit (for a day in the garden). Pinky red tartan silk dress (sounds ghastly, but ok really, trust me), red cardigan, dark pink tights, black patent leather shoes. And, the piece de resistance, a fluorescent pink headband which I had when I was a ski rep and has since found itself in the dressing up box. I congratulated her on her choices, wincing. N and I walked behind them as they hurtled down the lane, hair flying, the promise of pink drink and crisps ahead. I watched L’s spindly pink legs with their shiny black shoes flying round on the pedals of her machine, dress bunched up, head bent forward trying to catch her sisters up. I looked at N and said, ‘I wish I’d brought the video’. I didn’t even have the camera. Just an ordinary moment in an ordinary day. But that was the beauty of it, and I wished that time could stand still.