A Change Of Outlook

but nothing truly important, just whatever she was watching on TV.

Patricia realised she was often quite short with her daughter if she called at what seemed to Patricia to be a bad time. Quite often, she’d complained Danielle didn’t phone or visit very often. But was it any wonder when her mother seemed more interested in the television?

And then there was the way Anne had immediately decided to have coffee before shopping instead of afterwards. Patricia had refused Danielle’s offer of a lift to the furniture store because Wednesday was when she went to the supermarket. It hadn’t even occurred to her to go shopping another day — or just go at a different time.

To Danielle, who was forever juggling work, her Open University course, the netball club, the demands of her mother, and dates with her new man, that must have been hard to understand. To her, it must seem that Patricia could do what she liked, when she liked. Which, of course, she could.

Patricia picked up the phone and called Danielle. ‘Hi, Mum, what’s up?’ ‘Why do you think something is up?’

‘Well...’

‘Because I only call you if I’ve got a problem or a complaint?’

‘Well...’

‘Today I’ve called to apologise. It was good of you to offer to book time off work to take me shopping and I should have been more grateful and more flexible.’

Another ‘well...’ would have been justified, but Patricia didn’t give Danielle the opportunity.

‘I wasn’t being quite so unreasonable as it seemed, though,’ continued Patricia. ‘You see, I’ve made friends with another lady who goes to the supermarket the same day, and we’ve started meeting for coffee and a chat after we’ve finished our shopping.’

‘And cake, I hope?’

‘Oh yes, of course. Or

‘You mean you and your friend are going to get tickets to The Crucible?’

scones. We plan to try the entire menu!’

‘That’s great, Mum. But I’ll try to remember that you’re busy on Wednesday mornings in future.’

‘It won’t matter so much from now on. This week I couldn’t have suggested a different time, but I have Anne’s mobile phone number now.’

‘That’s good. Mum, I don’t mean to interfere, but maybe you and Anne could do something else together. Join a club or something? I think it might do you good.’

‘You’re right, love. I do spend too much time watching TV. Some of it’s OK, but the news is depressing and all the adverts are designed to make us feel there’s something wrong with us or the way we live. You’ve been trying to tell me that, haven’t you?’

‘Well...’ But this time, Danielle laughed after she said it.

‘Another thing you keep saying is that if I don’t like something, I should change it. You didn’t mean the TV channel or even the sofa, did you?’

‘No.’

‘Something more like taking up a sport?’

‘Well...’ said Danielle, giggling.

‘Doubting me now, are you?’ said Patricia in mock annoyance. ‘Well, you’re wrong. That’s if snooker is a sport?’

‘Kind of. You mean you and your friend are going to get tickets to The Crucible?’

‘No. Anne and I are going to try playing!’

‘Gosh, I’m impressed.’ ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be any good, but it will be a laugh. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you who won.’

‘I’ll look forward to it!’ Danielle sounded as though she really meant that.

Patricia didn’t get to play snooker that Thursday. She did meet Anne almost as planned, but her friend wasn’t waiting outside the pub. Instead, she was sitting on the low wall that ran around what used to be the big flowerbed in the high street.

‘Maybe it’s silly, but it didn’t feel right standing outside the pub on my own,’ said Anne. ‘I thought about what my gran used to say if she saw a woman going into a bar.’

‘Called her a disgrace?’ Patricia guessed.

‘I’m afraid so. And talking of a disgrace, look at all that litter in the flowerbed. Do you remember how nice it used to look?’

‘I do. Anne, do you recall me telling you what my daughter always says when I complain?’

‘If you don’t like something, then change it? Is that right?’

‘It is. And I remember seeing an item on TV about a woman who lives near the sea, down in Kent I think it was, and she started a community garden. Did you see that?’

Anne shook her head. ‘There used to be a lovely rockery, but the council stopped maintaining it and it got overgrown, so she and her husband started looking after it. Really beautiful they made it, and she said how others joined in and brought plants and it cheered up lots of local people.’

‘I’m sure making this flowerbed nice would cheer up a lot of people, and we might be able to persuade the local shops to chip in for flowers — though you probably need permission for that sort of thing.’

‘The council office is right

there,’ Patricia pointed out.

They had to wait quite a long time before they could talk to someone about the idea, and when they did, he said they would have to wait for permission to take over upkeep of the flowerbed.

‘But to be honest,’ said the council officer, ‘it wouldn’t be taking over, as nothing has been done to it for quite a while and nothing is planned. You’re not going to meet with any opposition.’

‘So we can start now?’ Patricia asked.

‘I can’t actually give you permission for that.’

‘I understand,’ Patricia said.

Once back on the high street, Patricia directed her friend into a shop where they each bought a pair of rubber gloves. Then they began removing all the litter.

‘Nice to see someone sorting this out,’ a man said. ‘Feel free to help!’

And he did. First by lifting out a heavy chunk of metal none of them could identify, then by saying he had some old gardening tools they were welcome to use.

‘I own the barbers over there, so I can store them at the shop if you like when you’re not using them.’ ‘That’s kind,’ Anne said. ‘Yes, it will be much more convenient than bringing them on the bus,’ added Patricia.

‘I’m not being entirely selfless. This eyesore brings down the whole area. All of us in the local retailers’ association have been badgering the council to maintain it properly for years, but they don’t have the money.’

‘Then perhaps you could switch to badgering them to give us permission to take it over,’ Patricia said. She explained their plan and the earlier meeting with the council official.

‘I will, I promise.’

He kept his word. At first, Patricia and Anne worked on the flowerbed unofficially, using the barber’s tools and a few plants he cajoled from appropriate local businesses, including the supermarket the two women shopped at on Wednesdays.

It wasn’t long before they were given official permission to take over the flowerbed — and for interested passers-by to stop to chat, help or offer spare plants from their own gardens. They may not have had the carefully workedout bedding schemes

Patricia fondly remembered, but it was a huge improvement on the dereliction of the last few years. Many people expressed that opinion. Some went further.

‘Much better than it was in the old days. It was such a shame the way they used to rip everything out each season, even if it still looked good,’ one person said.

‘I love the way there’s always something different to see. The bedding they used to have was colourful, but once it was in, it looked just the same for months. You’ve got so much more variety now.’

Patricia had to agree. Among the donated plants were a number of small evergreen shrubs, some with golden foliage, some bronze. Others were plain green or had leaves edged smartly in white. The plants were small now, but would fill out to provide yearround interest.

‘Just look at all the bees and butterflies!’ someone exclaimed. ‘In the old days, it used to be sprayed all the time. Your green approach is much better.’

Soon, gardening the big flowerbed came a social activity.

One man in a wheelchair came and spent hours patiently removing every spent bloom, so the plants produced more and more flowers. Grandparents brought children to teach them the names of the colours, or to count how many blooms there were on a particular plant.

A young lady often came to sketch. Shopworkers ate their sandwiches looking at the flowers, and many others stopped to talk and offer encouragement.

‘I love the way there’s always something di erent to see’

By the time winter came around — and Anne had responded to a comment that it was good of them both to give up their time to bring pleasure to others with, ‘We’ve enjoyed it, but we don’t intend to suffer. We’ll be inside in the warm playing snooker when it gets too cold’ — Patricia had almost forgotten that plan.

She was also finding it difficult to recall how bored, grumpy and self-centred she’d been for a time. Some of it came back to her, though, when Danielle telephoned one evening just as a TV programme Patricia wanted to watch came on.

‘Put the local news on, love,’ she said to her daughter. ‘We’ll have the sound off, though, so we can chat until it comes on.’ ‘Until what comes on?’ ‘You’ll see.’

They didn’t have long to wait. The segment with Patricia and Anne being interviewed about their efforts with the flowerbed was shown quite early.

Patricia was pleased with the way the camera operator had panned across the last few chrysanthemums, the hellebore buds, the way the water droplets sparkled in the low winter sun on the evergreen shrubs. Every bit of colour — and there was quite a bit — was made the most of.

‘That was great, Mum!

I bet you’ll get even more helpers and donations now.’ ‘You might be right.’ They’d be welcome too. Good as the flowerbed looked, there was always room for improvement.

‘Are you meeting Anne tomorrow, Mum? If not, I could take you to look at sofas?’

‘No need. You were right, it’s perfectly comfortable, now I’m not spending all day sitting on it. I would like to see you, though. Let’s go out for coffee and cake.’

Patricia smiled after they ended the call. Now she had an extra thing to look forward to and that, plus the improvement in her life, was really all down to Danielle.

She was delighted with her daughter — and her new friend Anne, and the flower bed they’d created, and life in general.