I seem to have spent most of my life tethered to a tree: The Faraway Tree, as described by Enid Blyton. Clambering up its sturdy trunk and stepping off a branch into a land where I could play. The tricky bit was asking myself: what land did I wish to visit today? Did I want adventure or utopia? A land full of colour or eccentric characters? I cocooned myself in lands hidden by fluffy white clouds at the top of a tree. An only child; a dreamer, I've never been accused of lacking in imagination. My head was permanently stuck in the clouds, eyes glazed, far away some place else. Amusing myself, believing in a world no-one else seemed to be able to see. Fairies are real and toys talk to me. I still believe!
Thursday, 23 August 2012
'...also, if you tie a bull, be he ever so mad, to a Fig Tree, he will quickly become tame and gentle.' As I read this quote from a recent book, I wondered if the opposite were true. If a tame and gentle bull was forever tethered to a fig tree and was suddenly untied, would he be angry? Would he quickly become feisty? Would the abrupt freedom be too much for him to handle? Should I have tied myself to my granddad's fig tree?