Planet Mad

On the cusp of being old...

It's a beautiful evening. I walked home across the playing fields, tucked snugly inside my coat. The air was so cold it hurt to breathe in; the grass crunched under foot, glittering in the light of the moon. The sky was a deep, sensuous blue: indigo brushed with whisps of cloud. Stars hung, suspended diamonds. The silhouetted buildings stood black against the sky and against the distant, glimmering street-lights; a hush fell. I realise that I love this village, this job. I have friends near and far, new and old. I feel comfortable in my skin and with my place in the world. I am at peace.

I am grateful for many things.