A Short Walk In Wintertime*

"When you're weary, feeling small..." a short walk in winter time can soothe the soul.

Letting the weak winter afternoon sunshine wash over me, seeing the winter trees silhouetted against a dazzling blue sky...

...Looking up at ancient trees and becoming calmer, as I gaze at buildings built in the 17th century, where generations upon generations of lawyers before me have lived and worked. Following in tradition somehow makes things easier...

... Looking up and feeling sunlight against my face, that there is light amongst the darkness of winter and that summer and sunshine will come round again. That summer without winter would be nothing. That silhouettes like these are even more special as for 3/4 of the year you cannot see that roof line against the sky for it is usually obliterated by an abundance of foliage...


...Seeing the rich red colour of old brick and being reminded of other occasions when life was also hard, and remembering that those times too passed and receded. That seasons come and seasons go, as do bad times and dark days...

...Realising how many good things in life there are, if only you pause and look, much like the poem, one of my favourites ...

All images by me.

"What is this life if full of care

We have no time to stop and stare

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep, or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at beauty's glance

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this, if full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

William Henry Davies

*With apologies to Libby Purves for misquoting her book title.

Moment of Need

It was just as I reached the bus-stop this evening that another wave of stomach pains hit me. I sat down on the bench and breathed in and breathed out and stared at the floor, fixated on the slightly old vomit where someone else had been unlucky earlier in the weekend. The pains didn't subside and I started to wonder what I was going to do. My phone was in the bathroom at home; there was no-one at work; I had an appointment to get to. I was on my own. The thought of fainting into someone else's vomit was too much so I moved away from the bus stop and lent against the wall at the side of the pavement, staring at the floor and people's feet trotting past, going home, going out, going past all the while trying not to let my panic escalate. "Come on Rachel" I told myself, "breathe and get on the bus. Once you're home you can ring up, cancel the appointment and then lie down".

A hand reached out and took my arm. I looked up and a kind lady slightly older than me said "Let's get you to a cafe so you can sit down and I'll get you some water. Do you need me to call you a doctor?" and with that she walked me over the road and did exactly that. I declined the doctor but almost cried, well, actually, I cried a little bit, at her kindness. She lent me her phone and I cancelled my appointment and then called M who called me an Addison Lee car to come and rescue me. And she waited there, with me, in that cafe, until my taxi arrived and I gave her a lift to her office on the way. On the way, we talked. Two strangers, thrust together into a shared situation. She too was a lawyer who had followed a slightly different career path. She was qualified and successful. She told me that I would be too.

So many people tell me that they could never live in London; it's too dangerous and too impersonal, that no-one cares, that you could die and no-one would notice. Ok, so I once had my purse stolen on a bus but not today. Today I was in the city of London. I needed help and in my moment of need, someone helped me. And I am very grateful.