I keep to myself; I dont welcome visitors, I never share my crops or my tools the folk in the village reckon Im a bit eccentric.
So I slipped into early retirement. City life had grown stale, and I longed for quiet, for the company of hedgerows and fields, for growing veg, fruit and berries and sipping herbal tea sweetened with local honey. Before I stopped working, I bought a cottage in the Cotswolds.
When spring arrived I planted flowers, set out garden gnomes, a couple of squirrel statues and tiny lanterns. Neighbours kept glancing over the fence, their eyes full of curiosity. One morning a neighbour could no longer hold back; as I was putting in seedlings she wandered into the garden.
She complained that she had forgotten to sow petunias and hinted I should share some with her. Why should I give my seedlings to a woman I barely know? Petunias are finicky, I only had ten, and I pretended not to grasp her suggestion.
A week and a half later I spotted another neighbour leaning over the rail, chatting with a lady who occasionally glanced my way. It seemed they were talking about me.
On a summer afternoon I was tending the garden when a voice startled me. A woman stood at the fence, calling out. She said shed walked past my house and seen ripe fruit on the trees. She hadnt had any fruit of her own. I stared, astonished. How could she just turn up at my gate asking for fruit? I hardly eat the harvest myself; I keep it for my daughter, Lily.
Later, in a corner shop, I bought some sweets. While I was in line, a woman from the next street asked who the sweets were for, whether Id invite anyone over for tea. Why did she feel entitled to know why I was buying candy? And why should I invite a strangershe was neither friend, nor relative, nor colleague?
Just last week a neighbour saw me digging with a small spade and asked what Id bought, where and when. I felt compelled to answer politely, though it was intrusive.
In the town I left behind, such things never happen. No one pesters you with nosy questions, asks you to visit, or demands a share of your harvest or tools. Yet a trusted neighbour confided that many village folk regard me as odd. So be it.
I dont care about their opinions. I bought this house to enjoy my privacy, not to befriend every lady in the village or become fodder for gossip. If thats what they think, perhaps theyll leave me alone and keep their distance from my garden and my peace.
