You know you've reached a certain time in life when your definition of calm and sophistication is Waitrose cheese counter. Seriously, I walk through those hallowed doors with DS on a Saturday and I feel like I've entered another world.
Gone are the days when I needed a gin martini in a slick bar to feel glamorous. Now I just need a trolley (for our bags – we are not doing a weekly shop here!), DS' warm palm in my hand, and a prolonged hover at the cheese counter to feel the height of glamour.
Buying a wedge of Brie and a small slice of Irish blue is now the equivalent of a spa break or a day pass to the Sanctuary.
And then I had a flashback to when I was DS' age, and how this was exactly what I used to do with my mum. We'd nip into Fine Fare together and hover at the deli, eventually settling for a small tub of cream cheese, an avocado and a glass bottle of orange juice, with a screw top lid.
We would find a bit of wall to sit on, and we'd munch the purchases, watching the cars and pedestrians rush by.
The strongest memories I have of being with my mum are these simple rituals. Buying socks. Buttering bread. Sitting down for a cup of tea.
Now these are the things I love doing with DS. Sublime in their normality. I work full time and so don't get to just have these gentle domestic moments with DS every day. So I cherish them.
Doing nothing, ambling home, munching soft warm pretzels, learning the names of the spring flowers which are poking their way through the earth. and yes, buying a simple wedge of cheese.
We spend so much time trying to make things 'big' and 'fun' and 'wonderful', and forget that the wonderful moments are the gentle everyday ones; the subtle rhythm of gentle domesticity that connects our children with us, and (if we are lucky) us with our parents, and so on through the generations.
…I have tied my tiger print scarf round DS' scooter to pull it. We roll home in this way.
On the way back DH catches us up. He's loaded with Sainsburys bags, having just done the proper shopping. He is humming. We all stroll back together.
Where do you find your moments of gentle domesticity? I'd love to hear…please tell me, using the comment box below.