The corner tree

Neighbours discussing what to do around the tree

The tree on the corner of our street needs a makeover - or at least the muddy bit of earth around it does. So, in a fit of what I like to think of as public spiritedness  I contacted Transition Cambridge to see if they might be interested in helping with some planting.

We decided to have a meeting around the tree, and I stuck leaflets in letter boxes, posters on fences, talked to a few neighbours, and then waited for the day.

There was a good turnout, about a dozen people came (and went) - even though it was about -10C (the coldest day for many years) at 10am that morning. I had gone out with my hair still slightly wet so found it frozen to my head within minutes.

It was surprising how strongly people feel about the tree. One consideration is that it must still be able to be used as a play area and for children's bake sales in good weather. At the other end of the age scale, several elderly people would like a bench there, and others pointed out that the space was needed for buggies/wheelchairs as the pavement was problematic. My idea was a low wall/bench with herbs planted in a raised bed. That didn't get anywhere though: objections ranged from dogs pooing on the plants to damage to the tree from earth on the roots.

Transition Cambridge's mission is to plant edible things and they only have a small budget. At one point the nice lady from TC asked whether we really want any changes at all? There emerged a growing consensus around some kind of bench, so that's progress! But there's still a way to go to find something that meets everyone's needs.

April 29th 2011 and 1993

It was the Royal Wedding, and we had a street party. It was also Ario's 18th birthday. The Wedding was fun to watch, the street party a good show of neighbourly solidarity, but the birthday was the highlight.

18 years ago we were living in Dalston (Hackney), and when the contractions started my friend Kim came in her car to pick Youssef and I up and drive us to the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel. Ario was born at 4pm-ish, in a labour room seemingly crowded with people, including my sister Anne Louise, 2 or 3 midwives, a pediatrician, a doctor and a few others - all there to watch (and possibly help with) Ario's arrival feet first. Because he was breech and he was being born 'naturally', the doctor suggested that I should give birth standing up, to give gravity a chance to help out. 'Standing up' is a loose term for being supported on either side by Anne Louise and a midwife like an boxer coming out of the ring after a knock out. My legs had little to do with it.

 Anyway, 18 years on, Mariam and I watched Ario unwrap his presents with one eye on the royal wedding and another eye on the tomato tart in the oven for the street party.

Who would have thought such an ugly little thing would turn into a lovely tall, polite, handsome, gifted, and quiet spoken young man? I wish Youssef could see him now.

Then we went out to the street party, armed with the piping hot tomato tart.