Today was one of those strangely optimistic Spring days. Plenty of light, plenty of birdsong, strange growing noises coming from the undergrowth. (Or a 'rustling in the hedgerow' if you are a Led Zep fan, which I think I once was. Back in the day when things like that defined your personality.)
I won the class spod prize at Jesus Jones's pilates class today. His iPod had collapsed, and I not only had mine, but a lapdog, dongle and mobile phone, all in the same neoprene wetsuit baggie thing. None of my fellow flakes had ever seen a girl so speckked up and they were impressed. So I won the nickname of 'Geek' and even Jesus admitted that he might have to buy the Thomas Newman album I shoved on. The class was hard work - one armed press ups are perhaps not the ideal way to start the week, but certainly focus the mind. And in my case, I had to concentrate so hard on getting it right I managed to ignore the getting it wrong I seem to have made in real life. I suppose that's why I go. To give the poor sore noggin an hour of peace a week. And to stretch and align.
And then lunch with the Mink Trumper. What a wonderful friend I have there. She asked what I wanted to eat ('Just veg') cooked me a feast, emotionally hugged me, stroked my ego, reassurred me that we would all be fine and generally left me feeling amazingly loved. And all this with bags of laughter. Thank you MT.