Grateful: Day 71

What do I keep forgetting to mention that gives me pleasure every day? Oh yes. When I get down to the platform at Highgate to catch the tube, and it's 'always' the right train (via Bank, usually, or occasionally it's the Charing X one I need). It's not always, of course, and it's not every day, but it does seem to be most of the time that I am there, which makes me do the little football fist of victory, thus looking like a twat.

The sky was beautiful this morning and the air had more bite than yesterday. Still not proper cold, but I felt it. The water was forgiving. I filled my wetsuit socks full of hot water (on Ruth's advice) and squelched out. I think that helped. It feels like copping out but at the same time it means I can stay in that bit longer and enjoy it, rather than struggling. It does feel weird, though, stepping in and not feeling the cold until the foot is fully covered.

Thank you for the tiny weeny tube of Dr Hauschka Rose Day Cream. When July's under-eye midge bite was still prominent (in late September) I wanted some of that. £23.99 for 30ml. Really not. So I went with something cheaper, which is good. Very nice, in fact, but not the recommended one. And today, there was a tiny one open. I asked how much it was and she found me a sample. Hooray! The bite is still there under the skin, so I'll try it. Thank you, Planet Organic lady. I didn't expect something for free in there. Result!

My friend's blog made me laugh and laugh. I read two in one hit, yesterday's and today's. I was in public (of course) and I kept snorting and giggling. Read it. It's very good indeed. http://reasonstokeeponbreathing.blogspot.com/. I can really recommend it.

I laugh a lot on my bike too, I realise, and sometimes on the tube. I know I overuse the phrase 'Why am I single?' but sometimes it seems apt. A lone sniggerer. An object of concern rather than desire. I'm not complaining. We've had this discussion, haven't we? They'll have to be okay with certain things, this somewhere-existent love of mine. I'm sure it will be fine.

My day was sweet. Lots and lots (well, three, a fourth to come) episodes of The Killing. God, it's good. So good. It eats into your brain. I can understand sudoku players more, or crossword-doers. I find myself thinking about the puzzle of it. It's quite different to series 1. I think because the family at the heart of that were careable about immediately. It's taken me longer to ache for the characters in this, apart from Lund herself, but I'm getting there. And I am, of course, completely hooked.

I've eaten too much sausage today. Far too much. It's not the worst thing in the world to have done, especially as it's not an everyday habit. And I had the almost-moving leftovers from our haggis meal. Oh, god. Such pleasure in such simple food.

And I've been to church. Let me clarify... I went to help with certain parts of the ceremony at the Rosslyn Hill Unitarian Chapel, spiritual home of my lovely friend Kate. I agreed to help a while ago. And it's always interesting. It's the first time I've been to a church on Christmas Eve. I had a nice time. I enjoyed seeing Kate and I like to see her in a place that suits her and where she is so well respected.

I have to confess that I was split. Part of me was with the yoga people. There's a big meditation tonight, which I would otherwise have gone to, but I wanted to keep my promise to come along, so I said no (I'll go on New Year's Eve instead). And yes, part of it is my crush, but part of it is this - that the flavour of spirituality and focus that I'm hearing there really speaks to me. There were parts of tonight's service that were really sweet - singing Silent Night in candlelight was very nice, as were readings by a boomy man with a voice like dark wood and crashing waves. But that kind of spirituality, that way of talking about God, just leaves me outside of it. It gets so very much in the way of things for me.

I loved the minister's story about any child being a humbling picture of life at its newest and most innocent. I liked his bringing it all back to being about a baby. But then there's all the stuff that misses by a mile, for me, and makes my head spin all over trying to find something I can identify with. Oh, and the Aleluliah (?) song really made me laugh. There was a vibraltoful soprano doing it, with that 'singing face' on, all high and warbly, with a smile in her cheekbones. I found her face very funny, and the fact that the song blatantly only has one word. I was careful not to howl. I appreciated her skill... AND it made me laugh. No biggie.

Part of my ache to be with the yogis is my crush, but a big part of it too is just the peace and calm I feel doing that, and the loveliness of connecting with other people when I do. Ha... I'll find out, won't I? When I do it. I've enjoyed the other stuff I've done with them, and other group meditations along similar lines, but I'm jumping ahead of myself here. I love, though, the idea of celebrating the New Year with people who wouldn't be out drinking anyway. Rather than going along (as I have done many previous years) to a party and being absolutely fine with not drinking when everyone else is drunk, I don't have to even think about it.

I do remember the NYE I spent in my brilliant flat in Ealing. I sat in my mezzanine bed and looked out of the skylights. Fireworks everywhere, and red lanterns floating through the sky. A quiet night in alone. I did enjoy that one. Of course, I'd have enjoyed company too, but that evening was a lovely time.

At the Chapel, I met Teresa, a beautiful lady who sounded Spanish and looked French (she was both). She was 72 and she had skin like a child's - all smooth and soft. Had I been feeling entirely inappropriate, I should have bitten one of those cheeks, just a little bit. Of course I didn't, but I did think about it. She was lovely. Full of stories about her niece and nephews, about things she'd done and felt. She smelt nice too, of roses. She explained that she'd run out of perfume and had found some cream. Maybe the same one I got (in which case, the lady's loaded!), but it smelt lighter than that. Very, very nice, though. Very nice indeed. I could have just sat and sniffed her.

I'm looking forward to hanging out and eating cheese with Kate tomorrow, and to cooking. I may go and watch the Christmas Day races at the men's pond. I may not. I still haven't decided.

I'm grateful for so many things, and one is that I haven't had to wait until Christmas to notice them, or until New Year, and I haven't had to hold off showing 'Christmas spirit' to people until the third week of December. I've had fun playing with that a lot before.

So now, just to tide me over and celebrate this warm and fuzzy festival, one final episode of The Killing (number 8). Perhaps I'll save the final two for Boxing Day. Ooh, now it DOES feel like Christmas.