I’m laden down with my camera bag, an umbrella and a take-away cup of tea from Costa. I push at the swing doors and nothing happens. I turn and give them a shove with my bum and they grant access. I’m in the Town Hall, in the room where I donate a pint of blood every quarter; today, however, it’s been turned in to a small theatre for tonight’s performance of Fantastic Mr Fox.
I see Miss J in the thick of it, looking her usual serene and calm self. I see and hear twenty-plus children chatting and playing on their phones. None of them appear to paying attention to Miss J. She happens to look in my direction and smiles.
“If you’re here …, does that mean …?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m here with my camera and the big lens.”
She hugs me.
I find a quiet corner for my bag and coat and then sip my too-hot tea. I take my camera out, put the strap around my neck and fit the big lens. From my corner, I spy out the lie of the land, work out which children have which part and decide where I’ll stand or sit.
I look at my watch; it 2.15 pm. I have a clear run of one hour and fifteen minutes.
Alexa, of Trimming the Sails, invites people to share a moment with her around this date of each month. Nothing fancy, just a few well chosen words, or a photo, or a scrapbook page.
What’s your moment?