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The Little-Bigness of Joy



In the shopping precinct, travelling up the escalator by the Sky TV begging booth, was a woman with riding hat hair, wearing vegan biscuit colour wool and navy-blue, artisanal bunion shoes.

Below her on the escalator was her mix and match slightly pre-teen daughter. 

(Though the daughter possibly lacked the bunion vibe to her shoes.)

And what could mother be pointing out to her daughter; with that look all fairy-delled, magic dusted, morning glorious?  

Could it be a unicorn queuing with the key to the all-comers loo in its little bejewelled hoof? 

Or Mary Mother of our Lord materialising in the EE shop?  

The Elves with a consignment of more bunion friendly footwear from the Shoemaker?

What could it be? 

I followed the woman's gaze. 

To find she was all enraptured over, and by proxy enrapturing her daughter over, the Zara sale window.

And I thought, 'Oh...' 


Later, outdoors, I passed a father and son. They were dressed as I am: off a stall, not even from the back of a larger than ever needed Poundland: weaving along, dancing - hopscotching, even, without the aid of paving chalking. 

Imagination. 

The wish to glee. 

They could have been Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim on Christmas Eve. 

(Except not - Tiny Tim couldn't have...well...with a bit of help he maybe could have hopped, but certainly not scotched.)

Sorry...

Anyway, I thought, 


How little we really need to be joyful.  



#j#simplepleasures#simplelife#enjoy#simplicity



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