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On the first fine weekend in several weeks I've volunteered to take the children's session at our Quaker Meeting. Arriving by bike, enjoying the spring morning, I look around for a theme that would let us get out of the small room where we had held all our winter sessions.
When my mother bought a new lounge suite she was so pleased with the salesman who helped her find just the right one that, much to his surprise, she went back a week later with a chocolate cake. There was laughter and banter and both people felt good about the interaction.
On my noticeboard is a small square of yellowed newsprint with a note addressed to me: