Being passed on the lane by a jogging Lady B, and being afforded the sound of a squeak emanating from that direction. I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the complaining of knee caps under strain or an energy-saving version of ‘hi.’ I chose to assume the latter.
Offering my best regards to a grey-whiskered chocolate Labrador sitting at the side of his house in the village, and being welcomed most heartily with much squirming and general lolloping.
Noticing a ladybird trapped behind the glass of the village notice board, working out how to open the contraption, and releasing the benighted insect to enjoy freedom and the mild spring weather. I admit to having felt slightly noble.
* * *
In between the encounters with dogs, ladybirds, and the Lady B, I found myself ruminating on the fact that I seem to be moving towards the making of a difficult decision: either release most of what little savings I have and tread closer to the cultural tram lines, or move in the opposite direction and accept a life of simple survival. Such a prospect goes some way to showing you how far you’ve come in trying to make sense of being alive.
* * *
And of course, there was the ever-present habit of giving a little thought to the female of the species. I felt quite confident in concluding that they are at their prettiest as children, their most beguiling from late teens to early twenties, and their loveliest in their thirties. What I couldn’t decide was whether it’s rightly said that at forty they become invisible. I was content with the uncertainty because the matter no longer holds any relevance for me.
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