There are times when I am just so damned privileged. Here I sit in my fabulous office, writing on a state of the art Mac. The sun is shining, the words are flowing, English pastoral music is playing and all is right with the world. Last night I enjoyed a great rehearsal for St Matthew Passion, which we are performing in Scarborough and Bridlington on 15th and 16th April. My husband is back from the wilds of Nottingham and this afternoon, I'm having my nails done. Yes, shallow is my middle name.
Of course, there's always a weed floating about. Today, mine is called Rufus. He is our rescue golden retriever, a cracking dog, utterly beautiful - and knows it - and also completely naughty. If anyone in my locality is missing a bird-feeder, complete with nuts, then it was your garden he romped into the other day. Today, he chose someone else's garden - how I wish they would mend their fences, then he couldn't get in. Thing is, most of the time, he is a sweetie, but now and again, he gets the devil in him. If I am quick, I can head him off at the pass, but this morning I wasn't. Punishment for both of us is immediate cessation of the walk and Rufus back on the lead and home. So this morning's walk, instead of being a soul uplifting jaunt along the beach, throwing bits of wood in the water for him to swim to and retrieve, ended up being a 15 minute toilet trip and little else.
Still, if that's the only negative in my life, I shall count my blessings and thank the man upstairs for his generosity.