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the kindness of friends

I’ve had such a lovely Easter weekend.  It so easily could’ve been miserable. Especially given the weather; it feels like it’s not stopped raining in three days.

But instead of being at home inevitably moping under metal grey skies (even if it would’ve been just a little bit) I’ve been to Swindon. Lovely Marie, who’s St Albans flat I stayed over in on Friday, invited me up to her Mum’s.

There’s something so grounding about a family who will openly, even excitedly, absorb you into their home like you’ve always been there: I’ve eaten like a Queen (especially as they didn’t let me wash up, not even once); been introduced to the stuff of Colucci family legend via a cosy evening viewing of ‘Porky’s’ (hilARious!); helped nephew Joseph with the riddles on his Easter Egg hunt; giddily tucked into the endless supply of treats spilling out of every drawer and cupboard in the huge kitchen; and been presented with not one, but two chocolate bunnies.

None of this was even a slightly big deal to them. But it was a big deal for me. I feel hugged. No better, group hugged. Family hugged even.

I said ‘Thank You’ – of course, several times – but I’m not sure if they knew how deeply I meant it. After all your own family has to look after you.  Someone else’s choosing to really is a gift. I reckon I’d give the Easter Bunny a run for his money in the ‘feeling special’ this weekend stakes.  Even if he is wrapped in gold, red ribbon and a magical silver bell.

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