Abrupt transition into normality as I leave the house at six-thirty to drive to Cambridgeshire. To share the joy of the creative process with some dour-faced vegetable producers.
We play a word association game as a warm up. I start, with 'Table'. (They take over.) 'Top.' 'Carrot.' Potato.' 'Tomato'. 'Lettuce'. 'Cabbage'. 'Onion'...
We do a second round. I start them off with a new word. 'Book'. (Over to them.) 'Worm'. 'Soil'. 'Potato'. 'Tomato'. 'Lettuce'. 'Cabbage'. 'Onion'...
The vegetable mantra seems to soothe them. Some even crack a smile. We move on to another warm up game - unusual uses for a house brick.
There's a panicky pause. Then Olivier shouts 'SEED TRAY!'
Everyone relaxes visibly. They know what to do now.
'Seed tray for carrots'. 'Seed tray for tomatoes'. 'Seed tray for lettuce'. 'Seed tray for cabbages.' 'Seed tray for onions.'
I find myself talking about 'the seeds of creativity', and how the right conditions (the fertile soil of an open mind, space and nourishment) can allow an idea to grow and flourish. My tongue is firmly in my cheek, but they take all this quite seriously. They nod a lot. I feel a bit bad.
As long as the seed grows, does it matter if it was planted by a charlatan?
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