I catch this expression on our calendar while checking for birthdays to honour, and immediately I think of you -
crowded
round a set of washing machines, resplendent in your university
hoodies and pyjamas, mesmerised by the spinning drums, which remind
you of amplifier stacks. You braved the cold and the wet in order
that we wouldn't have to brave your stink, and for that, we salute you.
Next, you'll catch the fast bus into town -
no
time to spare for the suburbs, you want to zoom straight into the
action! Sainsbury's will ring with your mischeievous
shouts, your happy and free laughter. Parents will hide their children from your
harmless rampage, intensely jealous of you and all you stand for.
Finally, you'll decide on a night out -
will
it be a mini-rave in that small local bar we all know and love, or
will you make an excited beeline for the largest, loudest clubs in
town? Or will it be one of those nights where we are delighted to be
graced with your divine presence and earnest intellects?
Whatever you end up doing, your joy makes me happy. Bless your hearts.