I did a short run this lunchtime of about six or seven miles (which isn't something I would have considered a short distance at any other point in my life). The sun was shining, I was moving along easily and quickly. My mind was reeling with ideas for my new Edinburgh project. Suddenly the world was feeling like a wonderful place to be.
As I ran by the brewery in Chiswick, I passed a fat, old man, happily supping on a can of Tennant's Super. He was standing leaning against a bollard and at his feet was a blue plastic bag, so full of cans of strong lager that they were spilling onto the pavement. If you can't have a piss up in a brewery, then a piss up right next to a brewery is surely the next best thing.
It should have been a pathetic and tragic sight, but he just looked so damned happy that it was hard to begrudge him for it. By the looks of him this might be his last summer on this planet, so given the kind of person he was, it is at least slightly comforting to think that he can enjoy it. Not that he's likely to remember anything about it tomorrow, but still.
As I went by he smiled and shouted "Hello, how are you?"
"I'm great, thanks," I replied quite truthfully, I felt about as fit as I ever have done in my life, "And how are you?" I enquired over my shoulder.
"Grand!" he replied, a beaming grin covering his weather-beaten face.
And for at least this instant in time I felt that this was the case for this unfortunate fellow. A sunny April day can raise the spirits of the most damned of people. Well a sunny April day and a bag of strong lager.
Once again it made me aware of how lucky I am and how self indulgent I have been to wallow in my own problems.
But nor did I pity him, in fact I think it's more likely he pitied me. He was after all the one drinking beer in the sunshine, whilst I, in the sweat of my face, careered up the tow-path, going back to where I had come from.
