Moment of beauty

On my more than occasional walk to Alton Station, yesterday morning (or Monday as it is for all you late readers of this post. Can you hear the voice of your parent, school teacher or employer speaking to you in your head, "Late Again!, you'll never get on in your life if you are continually late for everything").

But, I was not late, (well not yet at least, but in due course this will occur, but I won't be in a condition to give a hoot, or even two hoots about it, that is the beauty of it. Yes, when you are finally late, the lateness is irrelevant. If only it could be that way when you are alive - philosophy ed).

.. no, I was not late, I was on the back route to the rail station (for my youngers readers, "The Chuff Chuff place" - nursery ed), up Amery hill, past St Lawrence Church and associated graveyard, across the main road,  down Chauntsingers Avenue, before going gently round the bend (glad that you have finally admitted that, this will give us another topic for next weeks session - psychiatry ed)

Now Alton Station (place of many are beautiful sunrise and sunset photos if you have been following this blog, all available on first some first served basis, very reasonable rates - photo sales ed) is 12 1/2 minutes from our house (well technically and legally Bridget's house - I am a paying guest) or if you are like me (no-one is quite like you - ed), 2869 steps, at a medium pace, slightly more or less depending on my speed, as it appears that my stride pattern alters depending on my walking speed. Not that I ever count the steps you understand! (he says this quickly and moves on hurriedly in case someone twigs that he counts his steps - sanity clause ed)

I had, as usual, plenty of time to spare (he does like to be early, sometimes he is so early for the train he gets the earlier (half an hour earlier!) one by mistake - timekeeping ed).

I turned right onto Victoria road that leads down to the now ex-Magistrates Court (I look on it fondly, many a fine court appearance had I seen there - sadly now up for sale in a, "Phased Development", I am not quite clear what that means, but it may mean they knock it all down, dig a big hole or two and then refill it all with something called, "Executioner Housing", I guess even executioners need somewhere to live, or was that Age Exclusive house, which you can only get into if you are old enough - I don't understand that - you would have thought that would be against the law?)

As I crossed the road I found myself under a tree full of blossom, and the blossom was falling, fragrant pink petals floating around me. I was so stunned I stopped walking (the count wasn't lost, am intricate pattern of fingers and toes in a custom pattern that I have ready for this kind of eventuality kept the count on track, but unmoving - there's a condition for that ed).

I stood and waited, as the gentle fall of blossom floated to the ground all around me (and into what is left of his hair - hirsuite reporter). There was a quietness, calmness and beauty to the moment.

It was a very special moment, and not a bad way to start the week and in particular start the week on a Monday.

Untangling my fingers and toes, to re-institute the step count (1845 in case you were wondering - step counter ed). I moved on.

Sadly I arrived at the station with minutes to spare.

• No missing the train due to the delay for the moment of beauty and wonder
• No train cancellations
• No late train
• No bus replacement service
• Simply a train waiting to taking me into the Great Metropolis that is London

Another day, but somehow special for that all too short moment of fragrant peaceful beauty.

On entering my usual carriage, to sit at my usual seat, ready to take off my coat. The other passenger (like all regular train passengers we are of a, "Nodding", and "Good Morning",  acquaintance only - commuting ed), spoke, 

"What HAVE you been walking under? ", 

luckily there was no-one else in the carriage and so I turned to face the window so that I could see my reflection and saw that my head, shoulders and coat hood were covered with pink blossom.

I brushed it off with alacrity, "Damned blossom,  gets everywhere", I said irritatedly.

And thus the spell was broken and Monday began in earnest.