April 12th
I sit by the kitchen window, a mug of tea cooling in my hands, and think back to the days when Olive and I were just lads and lasses running wild in the fields of Littleford, a sleepy Cotswold village. It seems a lifetime ago that I could rise at five in the cold dawn, milk the herd, give the calves their first drink and sling out the feed before heading off to the dairy shop in town. No wonder people dont have any cause to be jealous of my goldclad appearance.
Hannah! Look at you, all glittering in goldchains, bangles, even a tiny bracelet. You could have been born in the city and never set foot in a village, she chirped, eyes bright as ever. If the townsfolk saw you like that, theyd be packing their bags for the countryside in a heartbeat. Who says country life cant be stylish?
I laughed, but then I told her the truth: You think its all sparkle, but to keep this look Im up before the rooster, milking the cows, feeding the calves, and then Im off to the shop. Thats the real work behind the shine. If youd only seen the grind of village life, youd know its not all glitter.
Olive, ever the stubborn one, snapped back, You think you know what a village is? Since I was a child Ive known cows and pigs; you turned into a country lass faster than I could understand. We all thought youd never return home after your studies.
I shrugged, remembering that youthful certainty that everything would go as planned, only to find life taking its own winding road. Olives temperament had always been headstrongif she said something, she meant it. From a young age she bragged that she didnt need the endless rows of potatoes, haystacks or milking stools; she was too pretty, too clever to be tied to the farm.
My dear, Ill never go back to that village, she declared once, Ill finish school, move to London, find a rich fiancé, marry him and stay in the city. I cant bear the thought of staying in the country!
Her mother, Rose, who had spent her own life tending the fields, merely sighed and whispered, Perhaps, love, but who can say where life will lead? The village isnt worse than the city; people live there too. If youd just help with the cows, dear, I could prepare dinner while youre at it.
Olive laughed, Me, tending cows? The whole village would have a good laugh. Id rather stay away from that sort of work. She turned away, slapping on layers of makeup for the village hall dance, ignoring her mothers quiet pleas.
The other girls in the village watched Olive, the selfstyled queen, with envyshe never bothered with washing dishes or mucking out the barn. It seemed she never learned which side of the stable to approach. Life had thrown her a curveball; shed grown up later than most, with a sister already married and grandchildren of her own, while Rose discovered she was expecting another child, almost as soon as her older one.
Years passed. Children grew, parents aged. Olive finally left school with a string of middling grades, but a fierce ambition to become a nursery teacherwork that was clean, respectable, and offered a modicum of dignity. Rose and her husband sold a pair of beef cattle and paid for Olives first year of training.
No one could quite picture Olives new routine. Shed spend her final college year constantly shuttling between the campus and the family cottage, fussing over her reflection and gazing out the window as if waiting for someone who never arrived. By the time the holidays came, a handsome young farmer from a neighbouring village, Victor, visited. They fell in love, married, and soon after Olive gave birth to their first child, a little girlLucywho inherited her mothers striking looks.
Money was tight: Victor earned just enough for two, but not three, mouths. Frustrated, he muttered one night, Im sick of this halfsalary, paying rent to my uncle for a flat. Lets move back to the village until Lucy grows up, and thatll be the end of it.
So they packed their belongings, bought a modest house in the outskirts of Littleford, and Victor took a job on a local farm as a mechanicstill a respectable trade, though the pay was lower than the citys. Olive protested at first, Why bring me back to the fields? but soon warmed to the idea, especially with Rose and Victors mother nearby, always ready with fresh produce and a helping hand.
The idyll didnt last long. Rose and Roses motherinlaw began complaining that Olive spent hours in front of the mirror while they toiled in the garden. Let the girl sit with her granddaughter, not bend over the carrots, theyd say. Victor, eyes narrowed, simply nodded, and Olive spent the summer pulling weeds, planting carrots, and learning that a gardens bounty comes from hard work, not idle wishes.
Victor later decided to raise a few more calves, thinking it might bring extra income. The venture proved modestly successful, and the family grew accustomed to early mornings and late evenings. Four years later Olive finally secured a position as head teacher at the village nursery, a role shed long dreamed of.
I watched her, once a girl who despised farm chores, become a respected figure in the community. Shed once scoffed at the idea of staying in the country, yet here she was, content among the hedgerows and the hum of livestock.
During a recent reunion of our school class, we all gathered in the old village hall. It was astonishing to see how many of us, once certain wed end up in London, now lived in the very fields we used to run from. Katherine, whod spent her whole life on her parents farm, became a city chef before marrying a businessman and moving back to the countryside with a sleek townhouse. Hannah, whod married Michael straight out of school, now drives a sleek car and lives in a suburban culdesac, never having set foot in a farmyard.
We exchanged numbers, marveled at the twists of fate, and eventually Olive and Victor slipped away, deep in thought.
Victor, ever the practical one, whispered, Im sorry I dragged you back then, Olive. I thought you couldnt stand the village.
Olive smiled, Weve both learned that the city isnt a panacea. Every place has its pros and cons. I grew up fearing the fields, but now I see that pride in honest work is worth more than any glitter. Had you not taken me back, wed still be renting flat after flat, never truly owning anything. In the village, with my family close by, I discovered that effort is the true currency of happiness.
And that, dear diary, is the lesson I carry with me: no matter how bright the city lights may seem, the steady rhythm of country life can teach you the value of perseverance, community, and the simple joy of earning your keep. Its a reminder that pride and wealth are hollow without the grounding work that builds them.
