With Feathers

 I posted earlier, an old post, then pulled it        

It was lazy blogging. 

I haven’t much to share today.

It’s been my counselling day and I’ve been busy 

Busy concentrating,

Busy thinking,

Busy trying to join the dots 

And busy being kind and present for people who need to be heard.

With my head full, I went to an inaugural book club meeting after work 

And walking into a new environment with new people remains a really difficult event for me

I’m almost paralysed with shyness

My book of choice is Max Porter’s Grief is a thing with feathers and I was given a timed ( yes timed) 5 minutes in the spotlight , to give my thoughts on why it should be the first book of choice to be studied . 

I was a little pleased that out of eight books mine was chosen. 

I looked every part the scholar as I had my jaunty chic Eleanor Counselling Scarf on 

The host ( a well dressed, rather camp, ex English teacher who made his own delicious tapas nibbles for half time, complete with a Penedès Rosé served in delicate antique tulip shaped wine glasses, was a sweet if slightly pedantic organiser, and I felt drawn to the warmth of a thirty something vet who admitted she’d never been to a book club before and hadn’t had a proper day off for a month . 

I also caught her wincing at the taste of the wine and I winked at her in conspiratorial fun 

Theatre tomorrow night, 

On the way home I bought two scotch eggs from the coop 

Breakfast bliss

See I do have things to say when I think about it