A dinner party in a car park

Yesterday, walking back from university, I was greeted with the sight of a group of people, dressed up very nicely, having a dinner party in the middle of a car park. They invited me to join them, so I did. They gave me lemonade and apologised that the pizza wasn't there yet. They asked me about myself; who I am, where I'm going. There's something nicely concise about explaining yourself in thirty seconds, as if you're left with a better idea of things than when you started.

They recited a traditional Celtic toast for me to celebrate my coming move to Cardiff.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Plymouth is a place of hills and uneven roads, cracked pavements and slippery slabs.
Wind enlivens me like nothing else, almost convincing me that I could fly if I tried.
I long for the summer, for the warmth and joy of a sunny day.
I have noticed recently more than ever the soft, earthy smell of freshly-rained on ground.
And nothing, nothing in this world, makes me happier, happy to the point of tears, happy to distraction and beyond all reason, than the feeling of being in God's hand.

It was a strange event, them sitting there in their elegant outfits, me in my jumper and jeans. But there's something so right about seizing the moment. May we all learn the courage to do so more often.