Against all expectation, I’m starting to understand not continually running from one thing to the next. It’s interesting though - this “finding a balance” lark - there was a temptation to sit in the nice warm house this morning and not go anywhere - not do anything. I failed.
Before I knew it, I had picked up a parcel waiting to be posted from the living room, thrown on a coat, and was walking out across the green in front of our house towards the news agent.
The elderly lady in the newsagent smiled at my approach, spied the parcel, and said “oh good, an easy one!”
“Are some not easy?”
“Well if you have to write the label too, that’s twice as much work, isn’t it!”
I didn’t know quite how to react, so continued smiling.
Leaving the newsagent, my legs continued on autopilot, and carried me towards town - towards the pub that serves breakfast for less than it costs to make it at home.
There was half an intention to sit quietly in the corner with my laptop and invest some time in “my socials” (or at least, that’s what my daughters now call the various social platforms on the internet). That didn’t happen because I crossed paths with a friend who had just ordered exactly the same breakfast that I was about to order. I joined him, and he put up with me asking an endless stream of questions about his work for the next half hour.
Everybody else’s work is always more interesting than your own, isn’t it?
Before feeding our faces, downing our own bodyweight in coffee, and going our separate ways, my phone rang. Middle daughter. Shopping list.
And that’s how I ended up going grocery shopping instead of sitting in the corner updating “my socials” - which says a lot about the importance I place on “being somebody on the internet”, I suppose.
When I was younger I might have tried a bit harder with the whole “social internet” thing - but given that anybody and everybody seem to be chasing follows, likes, replies, or attention these days, I’m a bit over it all. Sure, I’ll “exist” on the various platforms, but I struggle to see the actual point in them - other than a vague interest in watching how people attempt to manipulate each other.
The time some people invest in crusading about “the man”, or complaining to anybody that might listen about how unfair the world is, rather than do anything to change their stars or those of others continues to confound me.
Where was I?
Oh yes - grocery shopping.
The supermarket was mercifully quiet - devoid of the endless rush of hassled other halves receiving instructions while holding items in their hands - asking “is this the right one?” - more our of fear than any sort of interest or concern.
Our local supermarket has receipt scanner at the exit - to avoid people using the self-checkouts and walking out without paying. An elderly lady ahead of me very carefully placed her bar-coded receipt the wrong way round on the scanner - bar-code facing herself - and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working. I quietly reached around her, placed my receipt on the scanner, and opened the gate.
“Quick - run!”
Oh how she giggled, while explaining that she does everything backwards - how the world always seems to be a bit of a struggle. We both smiled as we went on our way.
A few yards on - with “Seasons of Love” randomly arriving in my ears from a Spotify playlist, I decided “what the hell”, and set off towards the big park - to see the last of the autumn leaves.
The towering trees of the park always impress me - the largest towering perhaps 150ft over the snaking footpaths below. I wonder how many have passed beneath them over the years - or how many hundred years old they might be.
Picking my way back out of the park, the real-world reminded me of it’s presence quite abruptly. Two older ladies elbowed past me at a road crossing before slowing to a crawl on a narrow footpath to continue their conversation at the exclusion of everybody and anything else behind them. I will admit to smiling - at the very same behaviour they would thoroughly enjoy complaining about should it happen to them.
Finally continuing towards home I crossed paths with a line of infant school children - flanked by teachers and parent helpers. I stopped for a few moments to let them pass - rather than break their ranks. An old man took no notice and blundered through them - oblivious. An elderly couple realised why I had stopped and stood with me - smiling as we waited for the stream of little people to pass. The final teacher whispered a thank-you, holding the hand of the least sure of her party.
During the walk home the song “Colours of the Wind” arrived in my ears. I had never heard it before, and became unexpectedly emotional. Wandering along, lost in the song and the runaway orchestra, I wiped a tear from underneath my glasses and called myself a fool while thinking up excuses for tear stained cheeks. Perhaps it was the cold morning air? Definitely.
A few minutes after arriving home there was a knock on the door. Half expecting yet another parcel delivery (we seem to receive more than most), I wandered to the door and was met by a one foot tall bundle of inquisitive, innocent energy - a thirteen week old golden labrador retriever, with a good friend smiling toothily behind.
“Oh my word!”
I crouched down while the little charge tried his razor sharp teeth out on my fingers - wagging like an aeroplane propeller, sniffing, tasting everything, and performing all the acrobatics he could improvise on the doorstep.
“I’ll fetch my coat!”
And that’s how I spent the last hour wandering around the perimeter of the green - grinning at his antics, visiting neighbours, and spreading good will and chewed fingers with everybody we met along the way.
I’m home now. Still smiling.
Suddenly the world doesn’t seem so bad. Thirteen week old labrador puppies will do that for you.