This weekend I have mostly been madly in love. Actually, I have been consistently madly in love for quite a while. But this weekend has allowed many of those shared moments, so normal in their nature, which become something magical as soon as they are shared with someone you really care about.
Nothing really happened this weekend the way thing sometimes happen. There were no surprise visits from intrepid friends, no journeys or celebrations. But that's what I wanted; a weekend without anything to report. Because as magical as it is to share late-night honey on toast, to listen quietly to Radio 4 together on a Saturday morning with a cup of tea, to sit together for hours engrossed in books, reading out funny or thoughtful snippets every now and then - these things can't really be expressed in words, and they certainly can't be reported.
I don't think the word 'lucky' is really appropriate to describe these situations. The situations where you find yourself, somehow, exactly where you want to be, without having striven to get there. But here I am, where I want to be. And I feel really lucky.
After work today the sky was too blue to be inside; when it might rain tomorrow, why study on a sunny Sunday afternoon? Instead, we wandered together around the markets, the crowds slowly petering out as the shops started to close. Finding empty York streets in the sunshine is quite a precious thing, and we wandered relatively aimlessly among the ancient buildings, curling round behind the Minster and peeping down alleys and streets which even in broad daylight look to be exclusively the property of grand ghostly inhabitants of ancient York. The sunlight was perfect, peering over the city and leaving a bright orange light reflecting off the buildings. Again, on afternoons like this, I am aware that here is exactly where I want to be.
*though anyone who knows me well will know that I would never dare try such a thing, of course!