Smile

I went to my Mum and Dad's this evening. They're still decorating the lounge so tea was a bit basic, but it was nice to see them.

Driving back, there were three people that made me smile. Here they are in reverse order.

• The anonymous political vandal. Some wit had daubed "t*sser" and "w*nker" in red spray paint over the "Vote Bellingham" (our incumbent Tory MP) signs at the top of the hill. It was some way out in the countryside away from town, so I applauded the effort.
  
• The village crazy kid. He stands on a grassy bank in my parent's village all day, and sings enthusiastically into an unplugged microphone for the passing cars and pedestrians. If you're gonna be a freak, do it with style. I can identify with that.
  
• My Mum. She makes a mean chicken sandwich, but that's not it. We were wandering out to the car together and she said "the next time I see you, I want you to bring a picture. One of you dressed up. I'm ready to see you now. It's been a year but I've found the courage!"

She said it with a warm smile of honesty, tinged with the nervousness she gets when talking about "important" things. She's known for a while now that I do this stuff, and that it's important to me, and she's trying to understand and be helpful.

I love my Mum very much.