Nearly every morning at this time of year, as I'm coming back from the pond, I see a shag, airing its wings on one of the other ponds. Sometimes two. I honestly think that's what they are. They could be cormorants. I think they're in the same family as herons, but I could be wrong.
This morning, there were six, all perched on a kind of floating rectangle in the fishing pond, all airing. It was such a sight. I had to stop and just watch. One of the swimming ladies, whose name I'm sure I will know very soon, was taking a photograph. The sun was beautiful on their backs. The light was humbling.
What I love about these birds is that they can dive. Sometimes, in the pond, you won't see it go down, but all of a sudden, it will pop up from under the water, out of nowhere. And they're not small.
There was a split-second where I thought about not swimming this morning. I woke two minutes after my train had left, dreaming about missing a train by seconds. The next one is 15 minutes later, and given the fact that it takes about 6 minutes to get to the station, I think I did frighteningly well to get there.
Tomorrow's up in the air, though. I have a lot to do, and I'm moving house as well, so it's possible that I'll skip it and save myself for Sunday. Never know though. I'd rather swim.
I got to see Victoria Sandison today. How Good Is That? It was just lovely. Lovely lovely. I don't even have the words. How can I explain how soul-feeding it is to see her, how much I like this person? I used to work with her and I loved it. I have never ever been bored by her. She is a delicious mix of head and heart, if we're back on the yoga stuff. She loves people like nobody I've ever met. She is so open. And she's wise and headstrong (in the best of ways) and clear.
And she always makes me cry. There have been many times when she's said 'I'm going to make you cry now' and then she has, with something moving, loving, simple. But she knows I will so she tells me the story. And today, I made her cry. Ha ha ha ha haaaaa. In your face, Sandison (I love you).
Conversations with her are like eating a feast in very good company. There's so much flavour to it, and so much appetite to hear it and to talk. I could have stayed there for hours and hours. Well, I did, but hours and hours more. And hours. Thank you, Sandison, to you and for you. You are a gift.
This morning, I cried all on my own. I went to see the lovely smiling man in CostCutter. He wasn't even on the till, he was in the back, but it was him I went to see. I just wanted to say goodbye and thank you. I'm moving again tomorrow, and I won't be spending as much time in Acton (I will miss Kate very much. I wish I could transport her with me, or magic her flat into another place, maybe in a nook of Hampstead, near the heath).
I found the man, and I said my piece. Thank you for always being lovely. Many times, you've made my day. That kind of thing. He was lovely, and kept smiling and saying 'I appreciate'. I felt good, so smiling too, I carried on up to home, and was overcome.
I just felt a great welling of 'stuff' in my throat - thankfulness and emotion and softness. I felt really moved. I have spent so many years thinking that one reason I'd really like a partner is to have someone you can be considerate and nice to, someone you can really think about and enjoy doing things for - not in a subservient way, but with the glee of doing little secret deeds to charm other people.
I don't have a partner, but why wait? And even if I did, why limit it to them? I've always feared that people would find me too needy if i did that kind of thing, and some of them do, but many really don't. They're not busy thinking what i'm thinking, they're just living their lives. If a random stranger does something nice for me, the likelihood is, I'll be charmed.
Oh, I wanted to talk about the magic of the show last night. I'm still imbued with it, but the moment for talking about it seems to have passed. I'm still drinking in the pleasure of how it went, and the energy and sweetness we all shared. It was just so enjoybable. Such great fun.
More will come of this, that's all I'm saying. Much more. We will play until our arms fall off. We'll keep having ideas until our heads open up so the flow can get in and out easier. We'll keep ambisioning until our ambitious, risky projects become real life, and then some more.
I'm so thankful for the approval I had this morning, and for a happy, healthy outcome to 'the Belgian Situation'. I'm grateful for all the work I have, for Esther Lilley, with whom I had an almighty snip (that's a good thing, don't worry) and for her Daniel, busy making her happy up there in York, and being made happy by her (Victoria Sandison, I love you, in the most appropreeay ob the eways - ha - just in case you forgot)
I'm thankful for the small child in the sport shop, less than half an adult height, so probably almost two, wearing protective headgear and full size boxing gloves. Best thing I've seen all day. That's what I said to his mother. In my head, I had a tiny flash of 'or were the cormorants better?' but they're different categories, aren't they? They both totally count.
And the cackling boy in the supermarket, playing the game of throwing stuff on the floor. I gave him sponges to throw and acted shocked every time he did. He howled with laughter and so did I. His mother and grandma kept saying 'sorry' and telling him he was being naughty, which he wasn't, really, as that's the game we were playing. They weren't saying it angrily, though, and I'm so glad I did that. It made me very happy. I think I will have one of those, please.
I watched a video that made me cry this morning too. Now, if you choose to watch it, bear in mind that this man has lived in California for a Very Long Time. Breathe through it. It's worth it. Enjoy.
http://www.ted.com/talks/louie_schwartzberg_nature_beauty_gratitude.html
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