I’m on the train. The sun isn’t up yet. My sweet ‘Man Friday’ Wiggles is feigning sleep beside me. I’m hoping the sunrise is nice today. I look forward to that each morning.
At this time of year the sun starts to rise when I am somewhere between Shenfield and Stratford on my commute. Most people on the train don’t even notice these things in the way I doubt they notice the drawings their children have made that day or when their spouses have made an extra effort with personal presentation or a meal.
It amazes me how oblivious people can be to the beautiful things in life and you can call me a stinky liberal hippie all you want but I think a sunrise is one of the most incredible things.

I remember at Glastonbury 2011 when I insisted on our last night we go and see the sunrise because on the previous night when everyone else had gone I had greened out and passed out in my tent.
The only two people who would come with were off their faces on cheap whizz and kept jabbering about paper lanterns. Then we saw Thom Yorke lumbering towards us out of the mist. My friend Mike accused him of thinking he was in Harry Potter. He paid no attention and headed off in a different direction. We headed off to pretend we were Druids.
That morning was so cloudy the sunrise was just varying greys but they were the best varying greys I can recall.

What was my point? Oh yeah, appreciate things.






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