Grateful: Day 7

Sometimes, I wish I had a tail.

What I love about dogs is that they don't equivocate. They can't. They're just not capable. When they're pleased to see you, they wag despite themselves, sometimes the whole arse, the whole dog, even. When they've eaten a bin, or when you use your 'have you done something bad' voice on them, they peer out from under their eyes, head bent, hoping for the best (I know this thanks to 20 lost but happy minutes on YouTube yesterday).

When I like someone, whether romantically or just in a friend way (though romantically is so much worse), I do 'not bothered' like the teenagest of teenagers. Or I am nice and friendly, but spend hours wondering if they think I'm a needy nobber who should just Get Off Their Case.

A tail would sort that out in no time. Wagging when I'm pleased, disappearing between legs when I'm scared or sorry ... It'd just be nice, sometimes, to have something to get in the way of my deeply ingrained control mechanism that says 'don't say that, you'll embarrass him' or 'don't bother her with that'. A big old wag and a little pant, wide eyes, maybe a piney whine.

I'd lose some dignity, but I realised this morning that dignity's never been my biggest asset. No terribly embarrassing occasion - it just came to me, that's all. Dignity and me are like polite neighbours rather than good friends. I can probably survive without it.

Another realisation: that every morning, I'm not sure I really CAN get into cold water, but I do anyway. It's a mental discipline much more than a physical one. It's just an action that takes place, whatever my body's response. I walk down the steps and I just keep on walking. It's like unlearning the response that when something's uncomfortable, you pull back. You just notice 'oh, this is an experience that's happening' and keep going. It's very Zen. Except when there's an inadvertent noise.

I squealed this morning, getting in. Not because it was cold, but because I nearly stood on a duck. A moorhen, actually, I think. A little brown female who was hanging out underneath the steps. I think she was more scared than I was, but it was me who squealed.

This morning's glee-mongers:

The mandrakes at the back of the pond. The Manga ducks. They are like made up, stylised creatures. Not sure how they can actually be real. They look like they've been painted with

a Japanese calligraphy brush. That's the males, all regal and full of pomp. The females are more delicate, with an understated beauty and gentle eyes.

The sunflowers in the graveyard opposite my house. Despite the cold and the fact that it's nearly November, they're still there very tall and extremely yellow, looking over the railings into the street.

Comments from Angela Bown, which brought back memories of hours and hours and hours of laughing when I worked at Hasbro. I'm sure Angela was working on some project to do with dressing up animals. She made me laugh so much. We all laughed a lot at that. There were tears then too, but mostly only at chihuahuas in wedding dresses. Ahh, good times.

Being able to stop and sit and finish the chapter I was reading as I got off the tube. Nobody to say 'you're late!' or 'what were you thinking?'. Not today, anyway.

The fact that I have a big, fat, lovely day ahead of me to play with, full of pleasing people and juicy things to do.

I intend to have a very nice time, and probably to cry a bit, in a good way.