My sister-in-law drove from Bristol to Cardiff just to hang out with me today.
It was wonderful - she's the world's best person.
We walked through the park, had lunch at the cafe.
Strolled round the lake, soaked up some sunshine on a bench.
Sniffed roses in the rose garden. Saw lots of fish.
Back at my flat, I made her gigantes plaki for dinner - she's vegan, and that's the only vegan thing I know how to cook, after beans on toast - and we sat on the floor and ate, mopping up the juice with fresh-baked olive bread. She's the kind of person who doesn't bat an eyelid about someone not having a table, or mismatched cutlery, or only two bowls and one of them's chipped.
After we ate she drove home again, after the rush hour but before it got dark.
We've never done a one-on-one before; our paths usually cross at family gatherings. But my brother bought her a small orange car for her 50th birthday in July, and despite being scared to drive on her own between the ages of 17 and 49, here she was.
My sister-in-law is everything I'm not - beautiful, vibrant, and an incredibly loud extrovert. While a person with these qualities would normally have me running away very fast in the opposite direction, her authenticity is irresistible. There's nothing fake about her - she doesn't even wear make up. She's blunt, she's earthy, she hates (and regularly calls out) bullshit. Her EQ is off the scale. She's pure female power-energy. And it's all genuine. She has the biggest heart.
Man, we did some talking today. What a tonic, to connect like that. She's sunshine in human form, she is. I love her. Everybody does - even her teenage daughter. It's impossible not to. She's a people magnet.
But even while every moment in her company was easy, and the whole day overflowed with love, after she left I felt like I'd been put through a threshing machine.
I had to zone out on the sofa with Spider Solitaire for an hour until I could self-regulate again, then take two paracetamol and go for another walk to relieve the muscle tension that was making my whole body ache. In my twenties I used to have occasional grand mal seizures in my sleep, and when I woke up my body would feel like I'd done ten rounds with Joe Bugner - I felt like that. From experience I know I'll be exhausted tomorrow too.
Damn you, autism.
All that aside, you know when you've had a really nice day and you feel lucky to know someone? That.
Today's Photo: Watcher
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