A Sunday Brush with Wealth and Whimsy

This past Sunday I was at sixes and sevens. Had no idea what to do with myself, had no desire to call anyone, and my apartment was NOT working it. Couldn't stay in. It was a lovely afternoon. The sunshine so delicious it was calling me out. So, I fell back onto a family habit of the last century.... When all else failed, we'd go for a Sunday drive. The whole point of a Sunday drive was to go down roads you hadn't before, explore neighborhoods you would not ordinarily visit, and limit your time only by how far you could go and return in an afternoon.

So. I determined to drive up the coast as close to the water as I could get without getting out of my car. As a result, I ended up traveling past some magnificent mansions. Many of which appeared to have been built in the early part of the 20th century. All were placed as close to the water as possible, and as far from the road and prying eyes as they could get. That is, the ones that were not completely hidden behind old stone walls, fences and hedges. The ones that could be glimpsed from the road had beautifully landscaped lawns and gardens. And the trees! The trees were beautiful, old, large, and either magnificently tall and imposing or had branches widely spread across the winter grass.

One such immense lawn contained three huge sculptures. The form that had me jamming on my brakes and laughing in delight, was a 20 to 25 foot high sculpture of an old-fashioned typewriter eraser! On the end touching the ground, was the huge pink eraser wheel. On the other end, a brush made out of blue painted metal. I once used such an eraser! Seeing this totally incongruous item preserved in gigantic form and casually displayed on someone's lawn made my afternoon. Later, it got better.

On my way home, I stopped for a latte. Parked royally near the entrance to the coffee shop was a large, modern, white Rolls Royce. It sat there - glowing - in the late afternoon dusk. There was not a smudge, or speck of dust, or water mark anywhere on it's surface. Inside, - yes, I had to look - it was as immaculate, I imagine, as the day it rolled off the lot. The - dare I say car? it seems so mundane - reeked of the exquisite care that only a great deal of money can provide. It was truly an awesome object. Honestly. How many times have you come across a Rolls Royce???? I certainly haven't. Usually the closest I get is to see one is in the movies. This was my first Rolls - in the flesh! - so-to-speak. Could the owner be getting a coffee too? Hmmmm. I looked. Nope. There doesn't seem to be anyone special enough to match the car inside the shop.

Suddenly, out of the Gents' comes this very tall, very slender, pale, gentle man with a very high forehead. He was dressed in a long, black, knitted cardigan which reached all the way down to his knees, black trousers and absolutely spotless white shoes. Aha! An unusual looking person! He was an excellent candidate to be the Rolls' owner.

We both ended up turning to leave at the same time with our coffees, when what should come through the front door, but 4 or 5 people dressed in costume. They all appeared to have arrived non-stop from the Tales of Mother Goose! I swear one was wearing Bo-Peep's bonnet. No staff, alas. When, passing them to leave, and on closer inspection, I saw that their eye makeup was verging on Goth and there were various piercings of nostrils and brows, etc. What a marvelous combination! Goth interpretations of Mother Goose stories? One can only hope.

Me and Mr. Cardigan left together. As we approached this gleaming, magnificent Rolls, Mr. Cardigan swooped around and opened the driver's door. I asked, "Is this yours?" He rather abashedly nodded yes. I think he was a little shy and non-plussed that I'd spoken to him. When I asked him if it was fun to drive, he, again, nodded and smiled. I said, "Enjoy!" With that he got into his brilliantly white Rolls Royce, and I headed off to my tan, road be-grimed Corolla. From the sublime to the commonplace. I was very satisfied with my Sunday afternoon.

May whimsy cross your path. It's wonderful.