A little touch of joy (at a 2m distance)

This is only a short post, but its length reflects the theme, which is that a little sweetness can go an awfully long way - especially in these strange times.

Today is a bank holiday. On any other bank holiday, when the sun was shining bright and the skies were clear, you can bet that the parks would be overflowing with picnics, back gardens brimming with bbqs and the pubs piled high with merry-makers. But not today. Not this year. London is a strange mirror of itself. In some ways the peace and quiet is enviable. Never again will our roads be so quiet, and never again our rivers so clean. However, it is also just a touch unsettling. Perhaps only because we've been trained to live our lives at 100mph. But all philosophizing aside, this day is a beautiful one, and the sunshine beaming through my window is like a restorative drug. Better even than champagne (perhaps) and always there to restore even the greyest of gloomy skies.

On this particularly lovely, if somewhat lonely, Easter weekend - when family gatherings are replaced by self-isolating roast dinners - I was out for my government sanctioned walk. These past few weeks have of course been odd for everyone, but I also feel that being a country bumpkin at heart, I missed the social aspect of the village more then I ever have before. Now Londoners are not known for the social skills. You only have to commute on the tube once to realise that the physical proximity does not breed love, but rather sweaty animosity. This predilection for anti-socialisation makes Londoners particularly fit for the current climate, but it makes me feel even more keenly the lack of a simple 'good morning' or the warmth of a stranger's smile. Although, having written that, I'm overwhelmed by how creepy it sounds...I guess there really are no strangers in the village (just strange people...) which perhaps puts a simple 'hello' on the right side of suspicious...

Anyway - I was side-tracked by reminiscence...however this is entirely relevant, as out on my walk today I had probably my first proper encounter with a stranger in many weeks. As I was nearing my house I saw in the distance a sweet old man wearing a terribly dapper suit. He was probably in his 80s. Just my type. He was picking some blossom of a nearby tree. At first I thought this must be his house, and therefore his tree, but I have subsequently realised it was rather an act of blossom theft. However he was so gentle and joyful that I didn't have the heart - or the thought - to confront him. Plus if you can't steal a little blossom now and again - what has the world come to?! As I drew closer I shot him a wishful smile. Usually this goes down with Londoners like a lead balloon: "Why did she just smile at me?" "Do I know her?", "Does she know something I don't know", "What's she so smug about?!", "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME?!" etc. etc. But thankfully, my smile was returned.

I would like to point out there was nothing predatory in my approach, for readers who are growing concerned. Isolation has not disrupted my morals so completely...anyhow - I smiled at him, he smiled at me...and the rest is history. I jest, I jest. This is not the beginning of some Hollywood romance (although the age gap is about right, knowing Hollywood and it's weird and whacky ways). But as I walked by him, giving him a wide enough berth so as not to endanger him, but not so wide as to hurt his feelings (which is a delicate balance I've been striving to perfect) he stopped me and held out the blossoms towards me. "Smell these!" he said. An actual human. Communication. I didn't quite know what to do. I stuttered. Stammered. Flustered. Flummoxed. "Such a wonderful smell...it struck me as I walked past. Orange blossom you know". I mean, how could a girl resist?

Then came the acrobatically challenging act of leaning close enough to smell the offering without encroaching on his "corona virus free" zone. Once again, I think I handled the movement with delicacy and grace. And managed not to sneeze or breathe on the sweetheart. But I did give the flowers a good old whiff, and he was not wrong. They were delightful. Sweet orange blossoms for a sunny day and a sunny encounter. I warmly agreed with him as to the delight the flowers held, before wishing him a Happy Easter. My only regret is that I didn't say more. But in these strange times I also felt I had a duty not to endanger a man who wore his heart on his sleeves, just in case I left corona virus on them instead...

This 30 second moment has all but transformed my day, lifted my mood and made me beam all afternoon. It just goes to show that there is still so much room for joy in this confused and topsy-turvy world, and so much zest for life in those who teach us every day how we should live our youths. I hope to live every day to its fullest, and to eventually grow old - not necessarily with this particular man - but with friends and loved ones around me, and I want to be picking orange blossoms until the day I die.

Lots of love & Happy Easter to all x