Ability

Driving home through hosts of sunny daffodils, I smile. My newest tutee is bright, confident, and has a place at Cambridge. He attends one of the country's finest public schools and is set to achieve the highest grade at A Level. Despite this, he wants six to eight hours of tuition a week throughout the Easter holidays. I feel torn between taking the money and telling him I don't think he needs that much extra help, but I go along to our first session with an open mind. 

As the lesson progresses, I see clearly how I can help him. By the end of the lesson, so does he. I tell him straight that I can't give him his six to eight hours, and that I don't want to waste my time or his money. He agrees. We reach a compromise. As I leave, I see respect in his face, and hope. For my part, I feel great pleasure at the chance to teach someone so bright, and that my own ability remains undiminished. We will do good work.

The Destroyer Of Worlds

I often drive past a bespoke tailor's and have long looked for an excuse to go inside. The shop appears to originate in other times, when service and individuality mattered. Today, the traffic causes me to stop directly outside and I notice, for the first time, that the tailor's surname is De'Ath.

De'Ath. A popular solution to the surname Death. It makes me chuckle, and wonder if he specialises in funeral shrouds.

Snowfall

Sitting at my desk, devoid of inspiration with a pile of books to review, I stare out of the window and listen to Colette’s passion on the radio. Her lush, seductive prose washes over me, arouses me, and lost for a moment, in words and memory, I suddenly realise it is snowing. Fat, fluffy flakes fall gently, erratically into the garden, drawing me back to the present. I watch the Easter snow come down, desire unfulfilled.

Blooming

I ummed and aahed over the flowers, not sure I could justify the expense of a bunch of orange tulips and a bunch of blue hyacinths. But then I remembered the bonus I wasn't expecting and I leave them in my shopping trolley. For days, they’ve sat demurely in the pale blue vase on the mantelpiece, but today, I come downstairs to open smiling faces and the sweet perfume of Spring. Inhaling deeply and with great satisfaction, I find myself thinking, 'I deserve this pleasure.'

*Yeah, I know the tulips in the image are yellow - couldn't find orange.

Undies

I telephone the German lingerie designer I met in Berlin. She’s made me a pair of knickers and I need to pay her before she can send them to me. After several failed attempts, we speak, and she is warm and friendly. We giggle with each other throughout our call, and she is obviously happy to hear from me. The pleasure of anticipating the imminent arrival of made-to-order knickers is enhanced by the pleasure of realising I’ve made a new friend.

Oasis

‘What about this one?’ I ask, emerging from the changing room in another black, satin pencil skirt and socks.

‘No,’ says my Nigerian friend, ‘I don’t like it as much as the other one. The other one made you look like you have a bum.’

‘I have got a bum. I’ve got a very nice bum thank you very much. And I think that one was too tight.’

‘You may have a bum, but you haven’t got a proper African bum. At least the first one makes your bum stand out.’ And she clacks her tongue and rolls her eyes at me for being so foolish. We laugh, while the Polish sales assistant tries to politely disguise her shock.

I buy the tighter skirt.

Handbag

Wiping the rain from my beautiful handbag with a paper napkin, I try to conceal my tears. It’s all been too much, and sitting there, outmaneuvered at the train station, with both my parents, I just can’t deal with any more.

‘What an exquisite handbag. It’s stunning. Just beautiful.’ Says a woman at the next table.

I look up surprised. ‘Thank you.’ I say, smiling a watery smile. ‘It’s my pride and joy.’

‘It’s just lovely – so unusual.’ She continues.

‘She has good taste, my daughter,’ interrupts my father, ‘She inherited it from her parents.’

‘You don’t inherit good taste,’ replies the woman, calmly but firmly, ‘You’re born with it. It’s inherent and particular to the self.’

I look at her and she smiles kindly at me. She understands, understands how difficult it is, how difficult he is. And for a moment, I don’t feel quite so alone.