Today I braved the torrential rain and graced our glorious capital with my bumpkin presence in order to meet up with two friends for a long-overdue chinwag. I’ve just made it back home (again, in pouring rain – gee, thanks weather) and am in that strange ‘tired but wired’ state on the cusp of bedtime. So, here are today’s five (or thereabouts) reasons to be cheerful:
- (This is more of a ‘reason to grimace’ than to smile but…) Giving myself a quite spectacular ice-cream headache this morning whilst going for a run through icy rain and cold, gusty wind. I marvelled at the diversity of weather we experience in this country; no wonder we are a nation partly defined by our meteorological obsession…
- Challenging myself to strike up a conversation with whoever I sat next to on the train to London, then finding myself positioned next to the surliest bloke ever, who was plugged into his ipod the whole way and who clearly wasn’t going to utter a word for anyone. Still, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, so I plugged in myself, thus further entrenching the antisocial tendencies and digital distraction stereotype of our generation. Epic fail, but reason enough for an ironic smile of mild amusement, I thought.
- Catching sight of myself in a mirrored window on the rather stylish Angel high street and realising I appeared to have a bright-blue tea-cosy on my head, at odds with my otherwise smart attire. Snowboarding chic does not quite translate to the snowless urban environment it seems. I do love my hat a lot though…
- Old friends – no matter how many years it has been since you’ve seen each other, you can totally cut the crap and launch straight into the kind of frank conversations that matter, that make a difference, that make you feel warm inside.
- Drowning in the soulful eyes of a bar-man and, in general, suddenly noticing fit men… everywhere! It seems my eyes have been reopened to the enticing attraction and fun-filled promise of the opposite sex after a head-down period of unseeing. A good sign indeed, methinks… 🙂
- An educational taxi ride through London with a Moroccan driver, who extolled the virtues of his home country and the mind-opening benefits of travel (he was totally preaching to the converted). I briefly learnt lots of Moroccan facts, which now escape me – it was hard to hear him over the sound of the hammering rain on the roof… But I did learn that the Moroccan word for Berber translates as ‘the independent man’. This taxi drive seemed portentously significant, for reasons I am not quite ready to reveal, but suffice to say that I am crossing all my limbs and digits that the driver was a guardian angel sending me a thumbs up sign… (ooh, I’m such a tease!).
Night night… 🙂