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yellow welly envy

I have learnt to take notice when I have a twinge of jealousy. Don’t you find that it can point you towards what you probably want in your life, but haven’t got around to getting yet?

I’m particularly jealous of all the most romantic love stories for a start (sucker).

But even down to smaller instances: take my little Mexican jaunt. I was spurred onto that after I found my eyes turning a deeper shade of green at glimpses of other folk’s adventures in foreign climes. When I decided that it was the saxophone I wanted to play, it was born from a twinge of healthy envy that the pretty lady could produce such soul-filled music from a simple breath of air. My ambitions to write – and even blog – have been prodded from a resentment deep inside that others have had become published when I want to be. For me, jealousy has always become a productive rather than a destructive thing. You just need to run up at it in the right direction.

Today, the green eyed monster struck again.

Ruthie came over last night and we’d planned to go for an Easter Monday Run.  So we kind of had to. Especially after all the chocolate we stuffed into our faces last night.  Today’s Easter Monday though, has definitely been one of those dripping wet days when you need more than a large dollop of determination to get you into your running tights and out the front door.

We had managed to get over that issue however and even talked each other into doing a second circuit of our route between Willian Arboretum and Wymondley Wood.

“We’re in the rhythm now.”

“It’s not like we can get any wetter.”

So we carry on, making similar sisterly grunts of encouragement to one another as we punch our knees through the sheets of pin rain.  As we round the corner, still doing our damndest to appreciate the pretty (wet) scenery and the excited chirrups of birds taking their first bath in months, the hood of a spring blue rain jacket bobs onto the horizon. It’s a lady walking her dog. Nothing remarkable about that. But she possesses something which make me instantly envious:



I mean, was their ever a finer pair of footwear for a day like today?!

She’s still looking down towards the floor as we run past, so disappointingly I can’t catch her eye to compliment the choice.  Who can blame her though?  If you’re lucky enough to own daffodil-yellow-wellies you automatically have a license to fixate on them when everything else you’re going to see is grey.  With two little slices of sunshine on your feet, you’re bound to be oblivious to everything else, including the admiring glances of two rosy cheeked sodden haired girls who have been daft enough to brave the weather in running trainers: ridiculous choice.

Bright yellow wellies.  Best thing ever. I am very jealous and I definitely need some in my life.

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