Are we ever too old?

Are we ever too old to play? I hope not.

I realised as I was preparing tea for a writer friend that it was like the tea parties I set out for my dolls, when I was a child. I loved doing it even though I spent more time playing

archaeologist, Greek gods and goddesses, detective and reporter than mommy. But I also loved setting up a table with dishes especially in my playhouse which had once been a tool shed for my grandfather’s garden. In setting up a homey space there was a corner to write in next to the window which looked out on fruit-laddened grape vines.

It was only after I started putting out the dishes and the tea set for my writer friend who is coming over and as I was taking pleasure in the pretty pastry box tied with yellow and orange-stripped ribbon, did I realise I was doing what I had done as a child.

Back then the tea would be Coke and pasties might be cupcakes either made by my grandmother or tiny little vanilla things frosted strawberry, coffee and chocolate and bought from the Cushman baker who came twice a week.

Now I will put out an apricot tart, a raspberry tart and a bit of chocolate indecency called a frou-frou not knowing what will tempt my friend.

My tea set is an antique rather than plastic of yesteryear. The conversation will certainly be of greater depth than when I was nine, but the pleasure of today was heightened by the remembered pleasures of my childhood.