I'm taking a break from blogging all things postal today to document a little 'moment'.
Last month, due to spending a lot of time [too much?!] on Going Postal, for the first time all year I missed joining in with 'Simply A Moment' - a mid-month marker created by Simply Alexa who encourages us to pause and record something which could otherwise have disappeared into the ether.
[To learn more you can read Alexa's tips on how to record your own moments and if you do join in, there's a link box on her October moment for you to add your post.]
But I've made sure to capture a moment this time around ... and here it is ...
Like an earthworm in a rainstorm
Date: Tuesday 15th October 2013
Location: A few streets away from home.
It's not exactly 'the road less travelled' but, for whatever reason I've just turned left, rather than right on my way out of the Nisa shop. [Empty handed. No sour cream in sight].
And I don't normally do that. I usually walk home the other way.
But not to worry, the two routes are 'six and two threes really': either way I'll end up back at home in roughly the same amount of time. If I'm not eaten by dogs on the way that is.
[A thought which actually does cross my mind when taking the different route. Diverging from the usual. Well, OK maybe not that I'll be eaten alive ... but that I might run into a dog, then be scared, then chastise myself for not taking the other dog-free route - like I could know that! Hey, look, I know that when I admit it all out loud it sounds crazy ... but that's phobias for you isn't it?]
Anyway ... apart from the ever-present fear of terror-by-canine, this is a brighter walk than yesterday's. A dry walk. I actually ran part of this route on Monday all hood-up-against-the-rain and hems-soggy-from-puddles. There's no rain now, but evidence of it remains in puddles I try to avoid.
As I cross the road I spot directly ahead, on a bungalow's windowsill, a strange ornament peeking out in front of the net curtains. A slightly sinister creature with its hand against the window grinning out at me as I pass. I think it's meant to be waving a salutation. I think it's meant to be cute.
And it is ... in the way that toys that come to life in horror films are cute ...
As I round the bend in the road I hear the steady crescendo of rumbling that is the 'bin day' symphony: wheelie bins being manoeuvred into place behind the bin wagon by men in blue overalls and fluorescent yellow high-vis vests.
They're ahead of me, further along the road, leaving in their wake the empty bins slightly askew at the tops of driveways.
Following on closely behind several elderly ladies head up those driveways, collect their bins and pause to chat to one another on the return trip.
"He had to stand with his arms like this ..." says a lady wearing an apron to another. She's let go of her bin to hold out her arms at 90degrees to her body. "And he stepped backwards ... " she declares to her bin-wielding neighbour. And that's all I heard [although I'd have loved a good reason to stop still and listen to the rest!]
More ladies emerge at the tops of drives as if, like earthworms in a rainstorm, they've all been tempted out into daylight by all the rumbling.
And with that I turn into my road to head back inside ...
Don't forget to catch up with Alexa's moment this month and make sure to enjoy the rest of your weekend. I'll see you next week.