Simple Pleasures

By Belinda

I left Mum's flat at 8.00 am, just before the Helping Hands ladies came to get her up. I always feel a little awkward intruding on their routine as they bustle around, so I decided on this vacation to use the half hour at the beginning and end of the day to go for a walk.

I set out for the churchyard, intending to sit on the bench there and read from the books I carried with me: "The Valley of Vision," a collection of Puritan prayers; Handbook to Leadership--Leadership in the Image of God, by Kenneth Boa, Sid Buzzell and Bill Perkins, both books small black leather bound volumes with gold leaf pages-- and a small English Standard Version Bible, bound in soft brown leather and embossed with a crown of thorns that encircles the spine, showing half on the front and half on the back. I treasure all three books .

I sat down in the warm morning sunshine on the bench that overlooks the newer part of the cemetery.

The distant hum of traffic from the nearby motorway was background music to the cooing of a nearby dove. The church clock struck the quarter hour, its tone as familiar as the well known voice that hailed me from the path into the churchyard, "Hello Belinda!"

Rob strode up, behind a loudly panting Bruce. They were on their morning walk.

We chatted briefly, then Rob said, "Well, I will leave you to finish your reading," and headed for home.

Utter peace; the perfect place to soak in the words on the page and listen quietly. Such a gift.

A few minutes later, I felt full to overflowing and ready to start the day.

Before walking back down the hill into the village, I paused to read and photograph my dear old headmaster's headstone: Mr. Lowe.

I have happy memories of him and found him a kind man. And we didn't know then that he had been a Wing Commander during the war.

As I passed the small triangle of grass that is our village green and war memorial, I paused to look at the beautiful benches placed there, on which are emblems of Alvechurch: the barge on the Birmingham to Worcester canal; the village seal; an emblem of the school, local factories--and Miss Twitty's sweet shop. You can read about Miss Twitty--and even Mr. Lowe, in a post that I wrote a while ago:
Village
The rest of the day was wonderful. Just simply being here is enough. No need for anything more but cups of tea and time together.