A good day today

Except for two laughing at me... but I don't mind so much.

My best compliment was:

"The help you give is really good, not everyone's is so good".

From the French. I like the woman that gave it, and I like the child I help there- but I can't help thinking it's too easy. I mean, I'm not MC, I haven't got a relationship. I haven't won any badasses over. I know a bit of French, but MC's definitely clever enough to know it, and gets on fine without it, so it's not that I'm doing something she couldn't do.

But it's good to think that someone thinks I'm doing the right thing, after me being worried that I'm constantly doing the wrong thing and wondering if it's OK.

I like my job.

I like you.

Your hair caught the light shafts this morning, in assembly. I always thought it was grey, grey iron grey, but in the light it was brown, chestnut almost red, my colour. I should have known you'd have mercurial hair. Looking at you reminded me of this indian myth I'd read as a child; about a girl who was old in winter and young in summer. You looked halfway through that change, with half your hair lit and your face framed in grey. Beautiful both ways. I like the pride of your profile and the sense of your glasses. They're a sensible cats-eye shape with silver edging on the top. I wonder if you've been taken in hand by someone, because you look years younger than you do on your picture that's on the card. They moan about you in the staffroom, I wonder if they bitch about me too?

Though you are so proud, and a little bit awkward sounding on the phone.