Last night I gave thanks for steering a path to the land of nod between mountains of painful body parts and ravines of painful thoughts...and similarly to some semblance of useful wakefulness for at least some part of today.
I give thanks Waitrose think unwaxed lemons are essential as I do too...for the helpful assistant who ceased arranging veg and found some ordinary tea bags for me and the man behind me in the queue who didn't fancy the Duchy blend they had on offer either...even though it was free. I give thanks that when I spilt said tea it was on clothing that won't show the stain if it does so. For the crisp crunchiness of Dove Farm's exquisite digestive biscuits, bought at the health food shop but opened before I got home to have with it on the sea front. I give thanks for being such an unappealing companion, with spilling shopping and splashing tea and crumbling packet of biscuits, I got a seaside seat all to myself.
I give thanks for having a quick natter with one of the friendly cab drivers on the way home. I resent having to pay extra for being in pain but less so if I feel I've had a few minutes communication as well. And talking of communication...round about this time of evening a year ago today, I received a message whilst 'internet waiting' that I first thought must have been sent in error since the person who sent it was so unlike anyone else I usually heard from. I give thanks when he reads that he will smile...
I give thanks for Magnifica 70 - sex and thugs and split screen caravanettes.
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