On being called eccentric
On being called eccentric (and why I’ve decided it’s a compliment after all)
A few years ago (OK, a LOT of years ago), a young chap who was clearly feeling brave, bold, and ever so slightly misguided, told me I was “very eccentric.”
I’m pretty sure he thought it was a chat-up line.
I don’t know what reaction he was hoping for, but I do know the one he got: a confused blink and a deeply internalised, Eccentric? Excuse me? Because at the time, I thought “eccentric” meant weird. Odd. Probably wearing a colander as a hat and muttering to pigeons. Definitely not the romantic compliment he was aiming for.
But lately I’ve been thinking about that moment again.
What is eccentric, really?
And does it mean delightful or deranged?
On the surface, I am exceptionally normal. If you saw me on the street doing absolutely standard human errands like buying milk, waiting for the traffic light, trying to put my keys in the wrong car, you’d think: Ordinary. Safe. Probably knows her credit card number without looking. Nothing about me screams “unconventional woodland sprite.”
But then we get to my garden.
A short list of completely normal things I own:
A chookhouse called Cluckingham Palace, complete with a pink chandelier, wall decor, and a china cabinet repurposed into a nesting box. As one does.
A birdhouse that looks like it wandered out of a Dr. Seuss book after a long night, called Cobblewomp Manor.
A greenhouse named The Whitehouse, decorated with a vintage oak dresser, silver teapots, and….because why not….a large concrete Lego man.
Cast iron statues of Mr. Rat and the Mad Hatter Rabbit, who absolutely have imaginary conversations when I’m walking past (they gossip about my latest garden fail).
Sheep named Blanche, Patricia, Delilah, Pearl, Enzo, Gracie, Rosie, Shadow, Beep, Cosmo, and Comet, which I maintain is the correct number of sheep and the correct number of names.
To me, this all feels… normal. Charming, even. Cohesive, if you squint. But to the casual observer, perhaps, just perhaps, there is the faintest whisper of eccentricity.
Which brings me back to that young chap. At the time, I assumed “eccentric” meant “Oh dear, what’s wrong with her?” But now I’m starting to wonder if it actually meant, “You are delightfully yourself, with no effort to be anything else.”
And if that’s what eccentricity is, then sign me up. Give me the badge. Knit it on a jumper.
Because the world is full of people sanding down their edges to fit neatly into the box labelled “Normal,” and I’ve apparently decided to decorate mine with chandeliers, vintage mirrors, a Lego man, and fictional rodent conversations.
Maybe eccentric is just the grown-up word for imaginative. Or playful. Or creative. Or brave enough to make life interesting.
So yes, I’ve decided that being called eccentric is a compliment. A good one.
And that young chap, though wildly unsuccessful, was onto something.
Because if this is eccentric? Well… I think I’ll keep being me.
Did you know?
Botanically, tomatoes, avocados, pumpkins, and eggplants are fruits (they have seeds), whereas rhubarb is technically a vegetable.
What to do in your garden this week
Northern & Southern Hemispheres
🤶It’s the Christmas holidays! Put your feet up you crazy people. The garden can wait.
What’s new in Behind the Garden Gate?
🍂Nitty Gritty: this week it’s all about Contrast. Colour and texture contrast are two ways you can inject ‘wow factor’ into your garden. If you want ideas on how you can use contrast to improve the visual impact of your garden, then this blog-style post is for you.
🍅Garden to Table: this week I’m providing an update on my progress with beating back an early infestation of aphids in The Whitehouse. Let’s just say, Me: 1, Aphids: 0.
📸Snapshot shed: as usual, more photos to inspire you to create a thriving, beautiful garden.
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