Day 161 - Rich

What beautiful bliss this morning. Such sun. Such light. Although I was late, Ruth was still at the pond when I arrived, taking photos that will become art. She's a talented artist. She's done some beautiful pondy things before, but as she says, more offer themselves up wherever you look on days like this. I changed outside, to get the most out of the light. The heron flew in at the lower pond and lurked with grace. The water held me like a beloved child. Every step of today's trip was a gift. And at the end of it, Maisie, a dark little dog, all soft. 


Breakfast with Ruth, and the chance to delve my hands into rich compost. We filled her recycling box, now redundant of that purpose, with all kinds of soil to grow vegetables in. You can't beat the feeling, and smell, of rich, ready compost. All the sourness of its rotting has disappeared. It smells full of goodness. 


Down at the South Bank by 10.30 ish to take part in Guy Atkins' Save Our Placards event. Protest placards from last year, all saved as part of an art and politics project, brought out again and walked by handfuls of volunteers at spaced out intervals. Not a protest march, then. The opposite, kind of. A very low key, soft-edged display of the banners. A reminder. Particularly poignant, though, were the NHS banners. It reminds me to be more active before the event. The sun shone, though. I saw Eugenia - about time too - lovely to catch up; Guy, who is always a pleasure; a lovely man whose name I forgot almost instantly - we had an excellent second yomp around the course (Hungerford Bridge to Blackfriars, a loop on both sides of the river). He suggested a fabulous yoga teacher for me, reminded me how fascinated I was with complexity theory, threw up the Santa Fe Institute and all sorts of other things for me to find out more about. He was bright. I thanked him for the gifts. 


Then off to The Cut to meet wonderful Pond Jean, such a sparkly-eyed lady. She's in her eighties and that's so hard to believe. With Tessa and Anastasia, her friends, we ate garlic-laced Turkish food and gleefully drank tap water. Then we went to the theatre to see After Miss Julie. Very intense indeed, it was. A budgie got its head cut off. And it was a real budgie in the cage, then a stuffed one when it got "killed". Despite excellent performances by everyone involved, three quarters of the audience (me included) was obsessed with the damned budgie. We sat right at the front and saw it from about a foot away, so we reassured many concerned animal lovers that the blood-spurting budgie they'd seen decapitated was not the one from the cage. Where did it go, though? Whereever it went, it was very slick. Nobody saw it. It's Jean's birthday on Tuesday. Aha! And today (I'm surprised I didn't cry), she was celebrating her wedding anniversary to her late husband. 63 years ago today, she said, I'd just got married. Wow. Hands, mouth and all. Wow.


Back home, work (a little) and another dose of blog wisdom from a very interesting man: http://www.lindsredding.com/2012/03/11/a-overdue-lesson-in-perspective/ 
So very true. Yes, Yes, Yes. Lindsay Redding, I do agree.

I feel rich with variety and friendships today. I am humbly grateful.