I walked out of Tesco to a glowing evening, and that October, bonfire, crisp smoky smell in the air, that signals sweepings of leaves and tingling noses on the way. Winter coming, Christmas feeling. The sky was clear and the sun shone gold. It was sinking and a cresent moon was rising round the corner. Everything was windless, still.
Driving home, the trees were still green and bushy, rising up straight in to a perfect, gold-kissed sky. It was almost eerily perfect and motionless, I felt like I was in a model world, a toy town. It was beautiful but a little disquieting too. Just before twilight, when the light is still there, but fading, making everything strange. The houses and deserted roads weren't right, I would have loved to be in the countryside a little more, walking in the fields before dinner. Feeling that touch of magic, of Alison Uttley, ash keys and old countryside mystery.
But we had a bag of chips that smelled just perfectly salt and vinegary, and they tasted like you want chips to taste, with buttery eggs, unusually brightly yoked, they sang as we ate them, mouthfuls of warm exactly-rightness.
If something could fall into place each day like that, all would be well, I think.
I said to Olivia, about toytown, and she conjectured that maybe we were being driven by a giant hand, belonging to a child, or God - ! And that God makes everything happen, controls us all. Wow. The conversations in the car are getting more philosophical by the day.