From my studio window I often see crows. They perch on the roof tops. Yesterday there were two on a TV aerial. Something made them take flight. The aerial continued to shake way after their departure. This morning I watched as a jackdaw drank from a guttering. Perched on the edge, it bent down to drink then pointed its beak towards the sky letting the liquid slide down its throat.
See that parking, he says, bloody awful. It’s not so much how they park but the space they take up. It’s his main bugbear. It gets his goat. Not much else does, not these days. He is gentler, calmer, happier. Have I done that? I think so.
He’s adorable, I said to Linda on the checkout at Morrison’s. It was a strange word to use, I admit. But I meant it. I do adore him. She wasn’t expecting it. You’re supposed to moan, to carp, albeit playfully, about your other-half in the supermarket. You know, raise your eyes to the ceiling, tut and say, typical. But I don’t feel it. I just feel blessed, in every which way.
It is enough. It is.
I find things when I walk. Yesterday there was bed in the road. Well, half in the road and half on the pavement. A perfectly good bed. Clean. A single bed base. Had it fallen off a lorry? And today I found some money. On North Road, two notes. Two twenty pounds notes. I felt sorry for the person who’d lost them. But what can I do but accept the gift? The gift of providence. Just like him. My gift. I pinch myself. I am blessed.
Later I saw two magpies in a tree. Is it to be a lucky day? Joyous. Of course. Of course it is.