This past weekend I went to the theatre to watch some dance pieces and a great band. After the show, whilst milling around in the reception, some of the audience were asked to fill out surveys. How often do you come to the theatre? How did you hear about this show? I was dutifully juggling my theatre wine and clip board, ticking boxes like there was no tomorrow and then, then I got to the age section. You guys, the only box appropriate for me to tick (without lying) was 30-50. There it sat, just below 25-30 (which suddenly sounded insanely youthful), looking up at me, sweetly waiting to be slashed through the belly with a pen mark.
I lent against the wall for support and dragged my brain back out of the rabbit hole of ‘aahhhhhh’. And then I started thinking, waidaminute, nowadays, sometimes, mostly in fact, I feel so happy and grateful. Simple little words ‘happy’ and ‘grateful’. Words straight out of a pre-school song, and yet, so powerful in the way they open doors, that you never knew where there, to the garden and let the sunshine in. If being in the 30-50 box means hanging out with those two words, then I’m grabbing a sun hat, taking my shoes off and getting comfortable.
I took a sip of wine, gave the (newish) ol’ smile lines some exercise and slashed that box straight across the belly.
PS. I am most grateful for this sound.
[My brother Joel is a fashion designer and the taker of this photograph. You guys, he is ameezing.]