charles barrow's writing

I went in search of Peter Pan. The statue of Peter Pan, that lives in Kensington Gardens, the large green space in London that used to be the private gardens of Kensington Palace, but are now freely accessible to all. If your image of Peter is got solely from Walt Disney's 1953 animated film Peter Pan, then you'll picture a young boy dressed in Lincoln Green - tights and jerkin, with pixie boots and a cap with a jaunty feather. I mention Lincoln Green, specifically, because Peter's outfit calls to mind that other folk lore/fictional character, depicted in many a film, Robin Hood, who dressed in that particular shade of green. You'll see the resemblance between Peter's outfit and that of Errol Flynn's Robin, in the live action 1938 film, and also the same character, as played by a fox, in Disney's own animated Robin Hood from 1973. So my mental image of Peter Pan resembled nothing so much as a pint sized version of the outlaw from Sherwood Forest. Poster imag...

I've never read Peter Pan and I don't think I've ever seen the (Disney) film either; though I did once sit through the awful Hook, starring Robin Williams. Strolling through Kensingston Gardens earlier this week, however, I came upon this bronze statue of Peter Pan. I guess I knew it was there somewhere but wasn't really expecting to see it where I found it. It was a gift to the gardens from author J.M. Barrie, and the boy who never grew up has been in residence here since 1912. It's a lovely statue, with Peter atop a tree stump with woodland creatures and fairies around his feet. He doesn't look anything like the Disney version, thank heavens, he maybe most resembles Christopher Robin from the Pooh stories, or perhaps they both look like regular Edwardian boys, straight out of the nursery, with mops of hair and smock tops. Boys who believe in the magic and mystery of childhood. When I got home I picked up a copy of Peter Pan and began to read. I though...

I saw a little girl running around in the park with a feather in her hair. It was pale grey and black, a Seagull's wing feather perhaps? The girl's Mother had tucked the feather into the elastic band that held her ponytail in place. It was upside down, quill end skyward. That's what struck me, the perfectly casual rightness of it being the wrong way up. What struck me also was the pleasing lack of regard for cleanliness on the Mother's part. A bird feather in her daughter's hair and not an anti-bacterial wipe in sight. There is probably a Health and Safety ruling against this, at the very least Social Services would want to poke their nose in. What I most liked about the scene is that it spoke of a carefree childhood, both the little girl's now and the Mother's in memory. My Sister found this hawk feather. I say hawk feather because she thinks it might have come from some kind of raptor, although as I post the picture now it occurs to me it might have come...