You know you’re in Cheshire when...

You know you’re in Cheshire when...

Monday
Oct 26 2009

Let me just start by saying that Cheshire is not boring.  It’s hip, it’s happening and it has a whole host of interesting National Trust properties.  It’s ideally located (close to the motorway network, trains, a couple of stonking airports) and has a wide variety of garden centres too.  What more could anyone want?  In short, Cheshire is just great.  It is not, as Jeremy Clarkson regularly suggests, tacky.

 OK, there are a lot of very orange people who live there.  And women with stripy hair.  And men who refer to their children as ‘kidlets.’  But even now, in the depths of the economic apocalypse, Cheshire interior designers and feng shui consultants are flourishing.  And you should see the queues at ‘Onyx World’ on a Saturday morning.

But I’m digressing. 

I happened to be in my local park over the weekend with my children*, who were doggedly endeavouring to fly a kite.  I was sitting there with my little Thermos mug of tea, reading my Kindle , hoping the kids wouldn’t let go of the string or hang each other, when I overheard a conversation between two eight year olds.  Reader, I’ll admit it, I’m nosey. Here’s the exchange:

Kid 1: Can I come to yours for tea tonight?

Kid 2: You can come if you promise not to embarrass me.

Kid 1: (incredulous) How would I embarrass you? 

Kid 2: Look Josh, we don’t want a repeat of last time, do we?

Kid 1: What happened last time?

Kid 2: That thing you said.  In front of everyone.

Kid 1: What did I say?? 

Kid 2: You said that you’ve never tried amuse-bouche! It was, like, sooo uncool.

 Cheshire, you see.  A place of unique charm.

 

* not author’s actual children.  That would be just wrong. 

 

 

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Emma Clarke takes no responsibility for any comments below, as these do not necessarily represent her views.

Mike Cooper
28 October 2009 at 09:41

Crikey. It goes without saying that if I were to wander over the road to Kennington Park my chances of hearing such an exchange would be, well, non-existent (not unless it was a summer Sunday afternoon and the place was littered with Bonnie Greer and her Militant Homosexuals, anyway - and even among my mates I still think you'd be pushing your luck...) No, Cheshire certainly has one up on my corner of South East London when it comes to awareness of amuse-bouches. Then again, we do do a mean kebab.