I have decided that a wonderful possibility for my future would be to marry into a third generation British settler family in Kenya and live on a tea farm. Even though the majority of the farm has been sold off, I would still be able to live in a lovely, old settler house like this:
with this porch:
and this view:
and acres of vibrant tea bushes just beyond:
...and people would come to visit as part of their tour group, and I would tell them the family history – about how Grandfather came over in the early 1900s and established this land and grew this tea and had four daughters and built this house for them, and how the daughter who then carried on the farm married the local policeman, Mr. Mitchell, and the crush-roll-I-forget way of processing the tea leaves – and then the guests would go off on a walk with the forester and learn about medicinal trees and such, and when they returned we would all have lunch together, and I would get to meet all sorts of interesting people every day.
Actually, what would be even better would be to live there fifty years ago at the height of the tea farm and be the daughter of a pioneering British settler, growing up living in that house with that porch and that view and running through acres and acres of tea bushes beneath the equatorial sun. And then I would marry Mr. Mitchell, the local policeman.
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This is really funny!
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