All posts tagged: gratitude

Bright Spots | Week Thirty-Eight

Celebrating the marriage of old friends (fourteen years and counting!!!) with botanical cocktails, aubergine parmigiana and plenty of laughter. Leaves underfoot. An hour talking on a bench in the village graveyard, speaking of the future (which seemed, at the time, appropriate…) Lemon queens (a helianthus variant) sprouting around the neighbourhood, swaying in the evening wind. Four days with my family by the sea. The view across the water from Royal William Yard. Walks on the hills crouched above Plymouth Sound. Giggles aplenty with my mama and Elle. Watching my little sister graduate, teary-eyed with pride. My sweet, sweet dad, who drove his feverish, cold-ridden daughter all the way back to her flat in Zone 2 to save her from the tube. The same dad who pulled over and turned around, without a single complaint, when it transpired said daughter had left her purse on the kitchen table in an uncharacteristic fit of febrile abstraction. (Seriously, thanks dad.) My tall and lovely musician, the best (tea-brewing, dhal-making, head-stroking) nurse a poorly girl could wish for. How contented I feel, happy now, looking forward …

Bright Spots | Week Thirty & Thirty-One

+ quiet evenings under glum skies + watering the tomatoes in the garden as the sky thickens with dusk + city grit between my toes + falling asleep while the summer sky is flecked with blue + homemade caramelised onion hummus on toast (but of course) + the joy of being surprised by Ashley in Scotland + climbing Arthur’s Seat + the European flags draped from many’a window in the Burgh + Geranium ‘Rozanne’, producing a glut of delicate mauve flowers in our border right now    + it was a week snowed under at work, but little treats left on our desks by kind freelancers cheered us all up (chocolate coins, an apple, a cup of excellently brewed tea) + home-grown spring onions; the little garden that could! + the Olympic Opening Ceremony, how rare to watch such pure, unbridled joy these days + the Olympic everything: as always, I’m obsessed and delighted + a fleeting twenty-four hours in Devon with my favourite sister + our signature sister brunch at Boston’s – smoked salmon …

Bright Spots | Week Twenty

  A belated bright spots, for the week that was: the night a storm threatened, the air crisp and crackling, clouds racing overhead like skaters on a pond. Dusk arrived early and there was a bite to the air so we stood by the stove and between us stirred risotto, rich with lemons and salty stock, the remnants of a courgette, a halved cauliflower and long lashings of spinach. Reading in bed, mostly this book, which was everything I hoped it would be. I enjoyed the crisp crackle of the pages as my eyes raced across its pages, full of stories so incredible you’d think they couldn’t possible be real but that they are – real as they come. A night of small plates, blood orange soda and girl talk (giggles), the pavements outside slick with rain. Feeling happier, more contented, in my choices —for what will be will be. My grandfather, dancing into the room with a cup of tea and my grandmother, always chuckling about something. The tomato plants, which grew several inches in a week! Anticipation …

Bright Spots | Weeks Seventeen & Eighteen

A whirlwind, if ever there was one – trains and planes, and five days in Lisbon, and important decisions over which I to-ed and fro-ed, over and over. But whirlwinds are welcome, sometimes. And then the first hot weekend of the year and all that entails – the concrete hum of the pavements under the sun’s steady gaze, the sight of a woman reaching out of her window to pick basil for dinner, observed from my seat on the tube. The violet night sky embroidered with the blinking staccato of a thousand aeroplanes, meals eaten barefoot and standing up in the garden, the lone swish-swhoosh of a sheet left out to dry in the wind. Friends and bicycle rides and the sun thrumming heavy on my neck. Ice cream cones, the windows thrown open, inviting summer in.

Bright Spots | Week Sixteen

+ homemade hummus, red onion and spinach sandwiches, packed up for a picnic + a walk through the woods + exploring the fabric shops of Goldhawk Road with the lovely Johanna – so much beautiful cloth we felt dizzy by the end! + a perfect Sunday afternoon: a walk followed by curling up on the sofa with tea and a book + porridge for breakfast (I’m embracing the chill) + tulips, tulips, everywhere + my hometown secret garden, a riot of spring colour + an Italian food crawl with my old flatmates (so nice to see you, E & H!) + making a feline friend walking home from the pool + and, for that matter, early morning swims + a Saturday morning date over cappuccinos and the newspaper + a Saturday night date at the Tate Modern (open until 10pm Fridays and Saturdays, go wild!) + followed by spontaneous, and delicious, fish + chips (salt + vinegar, yes please!) + Margaret Forster’s My Life In Houses, a lovely meandering read + and the library, for it will …