Walking up the street this morning feels different, somehow. For the pigeons swooping in the grey sky seem to be synchronised and mischievous today, swirling just out of the eyeline of the rest of the morning crowd.
At the end of the road, as we wait for the school bus to swing in, cars pass by one after another, the drivers showing a mix of impatience and distraction in their expressions, and not a smile in sight. I know very well the hurried feeling; it pervades most of our lives these days, and it is hard to rise above it or perhaps even notice we’re doing it some days.
But today my mouth and my eyes are smiling, and I have all the time in the world to chat as we wait, patiently for a change, for the bus. I am not lost in thought, or looking at my phone; I am instead present with the world around me, and hear the blackbirds and a nearby robin singing away as if their symphony were meant for me alone.
The rusty colour in the sky to the east seems on its own a thing of gentle marvel, and as we pick up a few remnants of other people’s days on the pavement around us - receipts, an empty packet of Quavers, the butt of a cigarette with bright red lipstick on it, and, that most recent addition to the familiar sights on the cracked paving slabs, the discarded face mask, with one strong broken and frayed - we are quietly making the world a better place in our own little way.
The bus is now late if you care about the timetable on the noticeboard, still visible behind some elaborate red marker pen tags, but this morning it doesn’t matter a jot. It will arrive when it arrives, and until then I will remain alert and present with the morning as it unfolds before us, and all around us.
Shortly I will stroll back to the house, and for a change feel both the soft padding of these trainers and the grip of the worn tarmac surface, and I will flash a smile at the elderly man stepping out of number fourteen. His face, which had the same intense look as the dozens of commuting drivers who glided past, will dissolve into a smile of his own, and the warmth of that moment will stay with me throughout the day.
A few yards further on, a cat will peer at me from a position on another neighbour’s garage roof, and we stare at each other for a second - two beings present in the centre of our lives for now - and then carry on. The dog will pull back, livid at the cheek of this eternal enemy, but even the jerk of her lead on my arm as she strains to intimidate her feline foe will not bring my usual, impatient response today. I reassure her, and she calms down and back into the trot home, sniffing every aspect of the final few yards.
The rest of the morning goes like this - I am detached from emotion, somehow, and treat the tiny details of life as they unfold with equanimity today. The jobs and loose ends are taken care of with due and full attention; a couple of messages dispatched after a second read, which brings a slight alteration, and an additional warmth to the sign-off of each.
Everything is somehow easier, more vibrant in life’s rich pageant today, and if you could bottle this feeling - this calm, happy flow that pervades every detail from the hug of a beloved child to the packing away of the groceries - it would change the world into a better place in an instant.
And then, four hours into this January day, when life might otherwise feel flat under this dull, cloudy sky, I realise just what is different about today. For today is a golfing day, and I have a time booked, and all of the worries and emotions of life will retreat for three hours shortly, as a friend and I renew our precious battle with each other and the game we love so much.
Our form will be at turns good and bad, and we will suffer harsh bounces and perhaps delight in lucky ones, but for those eighteen holes there will be no second chances, no distractions. Just the simple, shared pleasure of precious time passing through the landscape of this course, which has no doubt had the same soothing effect on countless otherwise normal days through its many years of glorious history.
We will just chase those little white balls round the heath as we’ve done for decades between us, and one of us will win, and one of us lose, but overall we’ll both be ahead in the game of life today. It could be a close match or a dog license, but it hardly matters, for it will be another great day to be alive, come rain or shine.
For this is what happens, on golfing days…
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Wonderful. The trick is, to manage to be like this on golfing eve's, and golfing boxing days too. and to never allow a gap of more than one day between games ;)