Beautiful yet predictable

Where we live is predictably beautiful. That means, everywhere you go, you see beauty - but all of the same kind. Mountains, lakes, rivers, houses, animals and birds. I revel in the sameness of it all. (It would have driven me nuts 15 years ago.) What this means is that when you see something or someone at all out of the ordinary, you practically crash your car/bike/horse while trying to catch a squiz. This happened to me today. We were on the way to judo, when we spied a man taking a picture of a statue - not unusual in the least, except that he was about 65 years old and had crimson, quite clearly dyed, hair. Opulent tresses of it. Once I'd regained control of the wheel, I pointed him out to Hedda and Titus. We considered what might have persuaded him to choose such a striking colour, when most men of his age simply opt for Grecian 2000. You know what we decided? It was a clown on his day off.

I am glad that my children had their three years in Belgium, where they saw many different nationalities and skin colours. I kid you not - since being here, I have seen ONE Afro-Caribbean person. It is slightly unnerving. I want my offspring to know that the world does not only consist of cheery, plump caucasian people with a fondness for green felt hats with a feather in. Luckily Munich, with its wealth of culture and rich mix of faces, is just down the road. I shall make a point of taking the children there frequently. We shall feast our eyes on what makes the world interesting and dynamic, before returning to our beautiful cud-chewing, beer-swilling, tractor-driving bovine hinterland.