Good Days

You get to the end of some days and think: Now that was a good day to have in my life.

Sunday, my Cambridge Market day, was like that. I got up early, got out early. I drove sedately through the maze of back lanes that take me to the A1. I did not meet a single other vehicle in fifteen miles.

I did, however, see a lot of hares. They dashed along the verge and then darted into the fields. I could sense the vitality in their movements. There's a magical essence in them that can't be adequately caught in words.

Sharon has been doing some hare pewter pictures recently. I'll scan one and post it next time I write this blog. She captures something of that crazy, mystical quality I sensed as I watched the hares on my drive.

As I was driving along I listened to Radio 4 Something Understood which this week featured writer Christie Dickason on coping with the unexpected. She illustrated this with music and poetry, including Louis Armstrong singing and a poem by Pablo Neruda, and reflections on her own epilepsy. Something Understood is delightful and inspiring. It's a wonderful antidote to the drivel that most radio programmes consist of. Try it.

I could write pages on all the other details that made my day a good day. Many of them wouldn't seem very spectacular. They were little things: the nice cappuccino I got from Ben, the sunlight on Saint Mary the Great's Church, the chit chat with customers, the chip butty I ate at the Wheel Inn when I got back, the fact that I'd earned some money by selling some nice items that Sharon had made which included a nice pair of silver and copper heart earrings and several small mirrors... I could go on. There were so many little details that felt good. All these things added up to a good day, a day worthy of being in my life or anybody else's life.

So... have a good day yourself!