Today, a few quite lovely things happened.

The first lovely thing was going for morning tea with my darling Lil Bro and his simply fabulous partner, down at the seaport. I know I often moan and grouse about this new city in which I have found myself (for only another three months), but the fog on the water was lovely, and the grey sky turned the ripples to silver, and there was a stillness about the place that made it serene.

And the Irish Breakfast tea was good. And the company was splendid. And everything was beautiful.

The next lovely thing happened when Lil Bro called me, later in the day, to say he was still in town, and that he had bought a present for Tiger. And, coincidentally, we were both off to go supermarketeering in the very same supermarket.

And so we met, and Lil Bro tried to sneak first canned tongue, and then Spam With Real Bacon (hate to think what the other tins contain), into our trolley. And Then took Tiger for a walk around the supermarket. And, as his partner, pointed out, everybody who passed Tiger smiled.

And then Lil Bro gave Tiger a present – a book about Tigger and Pooh. And the expression on Tiger’s face as she clasped her new Precious was one of pure elation. And, yes, gratitude.

And then, as I was reading the book to Tiger, a text beeped on my phone. After I finished the story, I checked the text. It was from my beautiful friend Amy, and it was the quote above, from Winnie The Pooh.

And, suddenly and powerfully, the universe just seemed right.

And then we came home, and Tiger slept cuddled with Daddy while I finished my first ever story for children.

And then my baby woke, and she walked, and she walked, and she walked, and my Heavens I was proud of her. And I was grateful for her, and my brother, and his partner, and my husband, and life and everything.

And this post has nothing to do with writing, but everything to do with life, and life is what the best stories are made of.