On Monday I was walking back from the library wearing a t-shirt and skirt (bare legs, no coat) when it started to chuck it down with rain. My clothes were quickly soaked through and my hair dripping wet. I was cold and I was miserable. But then my phone shuffled onto a great song and I smiled. The rain changed from relentless to refreshing, the situation from annoying to amusing. By the time I got home I was laughing. My housemate was stood in the porch in her running kit, frowning as she watched the rain. “You’re soaked,” she said, quite unnecessarily. As soon as I went inside it stopped raining.
I woke up early on Tuesday and decided to lengthen my jog to work by running alongside the river. The path was emptier than usual and the water looked beautiful in the early morning sunshine.
Thursday was wonderfully sunny and we had a picnic lunch outside on the grass, almost forgetting that we were in the centre of a business park.
On Friday I discovered that something as simple as painting your fingernails bright colours while listening to great music can take you from a mood of wanting to crawl into bed to feeling excited about going to a party. (The party was great, and so were my nails).
Saturday reminded me that the measure of a good friendship is not seeing someone for years, but still picking up exactly where you left of. We spent seven house drinking coffee, eating great Lebanese food, wandering around Oxford and catching up.
Sunday brought punting in the sunshine, and late afternoon cocktails. Just what weekends are made for.
(Apparently nothing ever happens on a Wednesday)