A day

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Began the day sunk in melancholy. This happens sometimes, not that often. It is called: life.

Thought: all right, it is one of those damn days.

Walked with the Older Niece, who made me laugh.

Spoke to the Sister. She was an astonishing combination of comforting and astute.

Did, somehow, 1121 words of book.

Went to the vet to get some pills for the poor old Duchess's heart. There was a young lab in the waiting room, in training to be a Guide Dog for the Blind. (Not sure if they do officially get capital letters. I am giving caps, though, because they deserve them.)

I admired her. I spoke to her trainer.

'Have you done this for long?' I said.

'Six,' she said, smiling. 'I have had six.'

'What a wonderful thing you do,' I said. 'You must have such a sense of satisfaction.'

She ducked her head, not wanting to do that most unBritish thing of blowing her own trumpet.

'Yes,' she said, quietly. 'Well. It is very satisfying.'

The dog and her handler cheered me vastly, I'm not sure why. A small, profound thing of goodness, I think.

I went next door to the florist and bought a fold of tulips.

I went to the butcher.

'Steak,' I said, firmly. 'I need the iron, for strength.'

The butcher laughed.

'That bad?' he said.

'That bad,' I said.

I drove home and arranged the tulips. They looked absurdly pretty.

I went into the garden and lay on the mossy lawn and looked at the sky. The dogs came and lay beside me and sniffed my ear and licked my face.

I watched the light on the hill.

I felt the low tide of sadness ebb, and begin to go out. I could almost hear it, like the heavy wash of water over shale.

I thought: that's all right, then.

 

Photographs.

Inside:

 

Outside:

Very pigeony Pigeon:

Most duchessy Duchess:

And, of course, exceptionally hilly hill: