Looking out

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There was very little that made me smile on Tuesday until 4.30pm when, slumped in the corridor waiting for the lift, I turned around and saw the city sparkling.  In the rush to the train that followed my eyes opened up and a whole string of  little things jumped in: two people silhoutted against the low evening sun; a heart-shaped hole in the pavement; children making dens in the park; the pattern of the stairs of the Barbican against blue sky; and lo and behold a grey suited man with a red bobble hat.  I feel like I’m about to erupt into a chorus of My Favourite Things and it’s all very cliched I know but there is joy and beauty when you look for it.

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