Spotted Pigs and Green Tomatoes by Rosie Boycott Read Free Book Online Page A

disappears the cold starts to bite. Perhaps winter
     is really coming at last.
    I meet my fellow judges at the Meeting House, a converted chapel at the top of the town which now houses the IIminster arts
     centre, of which I'm a trustee. I was brought on board by Di Gallagher, who until a few weeks ago was the centre's efficient
     and committed manager. Since she gave up the job, Di's been to Ladak, one of the most inaccessible of India's northern states,
     and now she's raising money for an orphanage out there that she is passionate to help. Di is already in the tea room, along
     with Bryan Ferris, who, with his wife Elizabeth, owns Lane's Garden Shop in Silver Street. As head of the Chamber of Commerce,
     Bryan is responsible for organising the Christmas Shopping Evening. He's also the most vociferous town campaigner against
     the proposed supermarket and the one-way system that the planners are demanding so that supermarket traffic doesn't snarl
     up the small town streets. Di and I are to be judges, along with Wayne Bennett from Dillington House.
    By the time we set out, it's dark and freezing. Wayne is wearing a blue hat with long ear flaps and has remembered to bring
     his gloves. But even though Di and I, hatless and gloveless, are cold, we're all cheerful as we walk off down East Street
     towards the market square. Bob from the Chard and Ilminster Gazette, or the Chard and Illy as it is known locally, is with us to make sure that we judge the windows correctly and to ensure that his paper is first
     with the results.
    In previous years, the theme for the windows has been something along the lines of an old Victorian Christmas, but Bryan has
     changed that this year to classical children's storybook characters. The first shop we encounter is the Sue Ryder charity
     shop, which has an arrangement of yellow teddy bears in its window and a banner saying 'Pooh and Friends say Happy Christmas'.
     A few doors along and we're outside the Ile Dental Centre. There's a narrow inside hall between the front door and the main
     door to the surgery and this has been transformed into an underwater scene: Ursula the Octopus sits on a chair (all long black
     floppy legs with a cardboard top half), stuffed fluffy fish swing from nylon wires, a mermaid smirks from the corner, sand
     and shells cover the floor, and over it all a small machine emits translucent bubbles which hover in the air before bursting
     away into the ether. We all agree that it's great: full marks for effort and imagination, something that kids will stare at
     and go, 'Wow, look at this!'
    I know my daughter Daisy would have liked this window and for a moment I imagine her standing there, an eager six­year-old,
     wearing her grey school coat and dark red hat with its long tail and a bobble on the end. She would have had her nose pressed
     against the glass. Maybe we would have just read Snuggle Pot and Cuddle Pie, the fantastic Australian children's story which features two fishy heroes - John Dory and Ann Chovy - and she would have been
     telling me of their exploits, wondering if they could have fitted in alongside Ursula and the colourful stuffed fish. But
     she's twenty-two now, studying for an MA in International Relations at Johns Hopkins University which entails spending a year
     in Bologna followed by one in Washington; as I stand there feeling the cold seep through to my skin, my sadness for time passed
     is momentarily overwhelming.
    I separated from her father when she was six and I worked every day from then until the beginning of 200I. Daisy had a succession
     of nannies, some brilliant, but others too young and self-obsessed to care adequately for a growing child. Working wasn't
     an option for me - I had to, in order for us to survive but I know that I also worked to fulfil myself, rattling up the career
     ladder as though my life depended on it, while the most precious thing in my life laughed, cried, learned, discovered and
     grew, much of the time