Inhaling the pungent smell of the peppercorn tree

On my way into the city, my movie ticket tucked firmly in my purse, I turn the corner into the station street and immediately I’m assailed by the pungent smell of a peppercorn tree. This large, old tree, one of three, sits at the edge of the footpath in front of a small block of flats, its branches hanging down above the heads of passers-by.

The smell of peppercorns often takes me back to my pre-school childhood. Peppercorn trees would be the first trees I could recognise and name. I spent most of my very first years with my city grandparents; no trees on their small inner-suburban block, peppercorns or otherwise.

On the farm with my country grandparents it was different entirely. A child’s world is a small one and the peppercorn tree which stood outside the farmhouse kitchen door seemed enormous.  It provided cool shade in the summer and one branch had a swing roped to it; occasionally I would be pushed in the swing by somebody with a few minutes to spare. The tree also sheltered the meat safe, not exactly a Coolgardie safe, but a close relative where meat, butter and milk were kept in the coolest place possible. No refrigeration in the farmhouse in those days.

Leaving the peppercorn trees and memories of my early childhood behind, I crossed the road to the train station.

No hitches to my movie plans today; although there was a short version of musical chairs in the back row of the cinema when a woman with mobility issues sat where she fancied and everyone else in the row made their own arrangements.

I thought The Children Act was a film well worth seeing and on my rating system; I gave it a score of 8.5.   Emma Thompson was excellent, the dedicated family court judge who became the person forced to acknowledge she had failed to deal with her personal relationships. A very moving film. 

 There was one jarring note at the end of the film when the boy lay dying in the hospice; make-up could surely have made a better choice of that terrible grey pallor which made him look like an actor in a cheap B-grade movie.

I left the cinema, having achieved what I first set out to do a week ago; to mark the occasion I lunched at a nearby French-style charcuterie.