WARNING: This post is disgustingly saccharine and may make you want to scoop your eyeballs out with a spoon
How lucky am I that in a weekend which included coming home to this…
How lucky am I to be able to take a day off work to enjoy a lazy morning with my husband, potter into town for a leisurely lunch with a friend, put in a satisfying track session, and then head over to another friend’s house for tea, cake, cards, wine and laughter galore?
How lucky am I to have family and friends who allowed me to vent my anger in those first few shocky hours saying all the things I needed to hear, and to have a husband who sent me to bed while he stayed up into the small hours waiting for someone come to make safe our door, and then didn’t bat an eyelid when my parkrun addiction took me out first thing in the morning while he dealt with the insurance companies?
How lucky am I to be able to pootle around my home parkrun chatting to a friend, enjoy personalised cheering despite only showing my face there twice in twelve months, and spend a happy hour at the café post-parkrun chewing the cud with some seriously lovely folk?
How lucky am I to spend this morning being shepherded around the new Wendover Woods 50 loop by the local gurus and this afternoon discovering the delights of the Wendover chocolate café?
How lucky am I that in a weekend which included coming home to that, my overall summary of the weekend would be fabulous?