Newspaper fairy

Today I tucked my glasses into my pocket and walked without them. It was quite nice, to be honest. Like putting a woozy Instagram filter on the world. The edges of everything softened and blurred. Not a terrible thing at this early hour.

Today I was focused not only on walking a sort of baseline sadness away, but also on being … a newspaper fairy. I had been considering this for ages (since yesterday) and today I was gloved up and fully prepared.

(I got the idea when I encountered a man in his dressing gown and slippers, crossly retrieving his paper from the gutter. When he saw me he looked even more annoyed and to be honest I sympathised.)

So back to being a newspaper fairy. It involves walking along your street and rescuing the rolled up, early morning newspapers from the gutter/footpath/road. You then fling them (with gloved hands) closer to the front door – at the very least on to the actual property – of their snoozing owners.

Today my count was four.

One was from the footpath which almost rolled back to its original position when I attempted my first fling. Rookie error.

The second was on the road, so I threw it between the overhanging foliage of its intended front garden. It landed on the lawn next to nude tree.

The next one was at the bottom of a driveway and I threw it MUCH closer to the front door this time.

And the last was on the nature strip. I flung it further up the driveway, next to two frosty parked cars.

That’s four sleepy readers who will not have to wander out into the street in their dressing gown to search for their paper.

I consider this a job well done.

After I’d fairy-ed my street, I resumed my usual walk. Along the side of the park (misty, empty) past the park-view houses and onto the wide green strip that runs between fences.

I passed a drain gushing so loudly and freely that I couldn’t help but stand and listen to it, the water flowing down the road and finding its way into another drain, disappearing with a giant’s gurgle.

Further on, I passed yesterday’s camellias. There appeared to be a curled-up piece of paper pinned to the fence. In an instant I knew it was a note for me saying ‘STOP SNAPPING OFF OUR CAMELLIAS YOU MONSTER!” On closer inspection I realised it was a pipe, funnelling rainwater out onto the grass. #NoGlasses

Relieved I headed for home, taking a photo of these little white flowers in celebration of not getting told off by a stranger. 

They’re so beautiful, don’t you think? Are they called snowflakes?

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