I’m still recovering from breaking myself in the name of organisational development, this week, but it’s a beautiful, bright blue day today, although blustery in the wake of transatlantic hurricanes.
Fitting, as there must be few today who aren’t sitting in our homes, with loved ones, still feeling the long waves that reach down the decade to autumn, 2001.
I’ve nothing fitting to add to the libraries of writing on the human experiences, analyses and debate around those events. However, Gill Hicks’ book, One Unknown, is a life-changing account of another profound event in the aftermath of the towers and the Pentagon and United 93. I’m not into those mawkish, nosey survivor stories, but hers is an altogether different, eloquent and unexpected take on her survival of the London bombings. Her story says far more on the subject of recovery, forgiveness and hope than I ever could
Meanwhile, we are embracing the second chances we get, every day when we wake up. My husband has had the pleasure of getting through a full In the Night Garden story (two whole pages) without argument, bargaining or a split lip (unlike me this morning, accidentally headbutted during exuberant play-cooking incident.) I think she may be hacked off with the story hot-housing, as she’s trying to force-feed me paper cut-outs of fruit and veg like a junior The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover. True to the final scene, she’s just offered me a cardboard sausage rather forcibly.
I reread the same two paragraphs of The Magic Faraway Tree as yesterday, with the same interest.Meanwhile, husband started on Winnie the Pooh and she nestled into his lap for about two pages. I may turn this blog over to him…