small things

Lightening so close it fizzed and crackled at the window, shooting through a dirty yellow sky.
A fly-by encounter with the Mancunian. Interesting timing.
A chivalrous (and unexpected) umbrella-related appearance at my desk.
Alf taking on board that I'm at breaking point, and helping me to fix a crisis at midnight.
An evening of opera and interesting conversation with a friend not often enough seen.

Taking the time to walk through Trafalgar Square this morning to see the first One & Other plinther. It was surprisingly striking.
Bumping into a semi-neglected friend on Upper Street, and making an executive decision to catch up properly over a drink.
Purloined cheesy balls!
A stunning moon, moving with speed through the sky.
The irony of a spectacularly badly timed email appreciated by the recipient. Oops.

Vimto. Lots of Vimto with bubbles. (Inspired by two different Andrew Bs, bizarrely.)
Watching a wee fox curl up and go to sleep on a sunbaked rooftop in the garden behind mine.
A concerned late night email - clearly I have an unhealthy relationship with my phone if a few hours off the radar leads to fear of my early demise.
A mad moment at 1am - sleep deprivation I suspect - wherein I drew myself a magnificent handlebar moustache, with liquid eyeliner.
Really very good lemons.

The feeling of leaving the house for a summer evening - freshly showered and scented, wearing a flimsy frock, basking in the feel of evening sunshine on moisturised skin.
Falling off a chaise longue relatively elegantly - no damage to anything other than my equilibrium.
The view from Crouch End Hill in daylight at each end of the night. The return journey was soundtracked by birdsong, the outward journey by northern soul.
Sitting in the doorway in easy companionship with partners-in-crime old and new, contemplating the world in a red wine fug as the sky lightened over the lawn outside.
Giving wardrobe advice via text. Just call me Gok.

A start to my day so slow it allowed me to learn, after years and years, the name of one of my favourite pieces of music. Cheesy, much?
Spontaneous cava and edamame beans on Highbury Fields with Ellie. Hello summer.
Ineptness at Angel. Twenty minutes after I arrived at the station, sitting reading papers in the sunshine I began to wonder where Miss Hartwell had got to. Upon calling to assess her location, I heard her answer her phone - on the bench RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. She had also been sitting, happily reading in the sunshine for the past twenty minutes. To add to the amusement, the man who had been sitting between us laughed and laughed and laughed - and then picked up his phone to call the person he was meeting. Just in case.
Temperatures suitable for a fifties frock.
A funny fish-tank cleaning reference.

A plastic model of a woolly mammoth on top of the recycling bin at Homerton Station. Bizarre.
Sun warmed metal on bare thighs - skirt slightly too short, perhaps?
White wine spritzers made so long they were pint-sized.
Mastering eyeliner with a brush, not a felt nib.
Consolidating a new friendship.

A tomato-red dress, with pockets. It hits all the criteria I had for a red frock - effortless, alluring and pocketed.
Lunch in the sunshine.
A couple of hours at home, in a golden-washed room.
New bank cards!
My latest earworm? In Denial. (Indoctrination, some might say...)

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