Let There Be No Doubt

Who knows, who knows / I might never have found you / Touching your toes / in the alpine section of the garden centre / where anything grows

From time to time it's hard to avoid this sounding like the Wonder Years, a drippy voice over about things we learnt that weren't previously aware of. It's also annoyingly tough to actually write something here sometimes because I want to be specific but feel uncomfortable without hte backup of being able to say "aha, it's only fiction." Fiction hides everything. It can be about you but also an extension of you, you are a starting point. And yet really it is you. Or at least the you you wanted to be. still want to be or were afraid that you had become.
So, it's not really a surprise that I'm finding it hard to write here about the genuinely brilliant situation that has developed over the last 7-10 days. Really genuinely fantastic. And I can't write about it. But I think I get it. It's because I want to live it first. The moment it turns into a piece of writing then it is an experience to be shared with all manner of other people. But in truth it's an experience that only two people ought to share. I'm not saying you don't deserve to know. Hang on, that might actually be what I'm saying. No, maybe, I'm not sure.
Not every moment of everyone's life needs to be shared as a mediated experience because then the experience is no longer your own, you no longer own it for yourself. So, I think I've got there, I want to own this experience for as long as possible. So, still with me? I'll make sure I waffle on here about any old crap because, for the moment, I'm keeping the good stuff to myself.
And I make no apologies for it.
And I'm sorry about that.