Hot chocolate with soya milk...

Pootle told me a story last night about a good friend of hers.

This friend had gone away for a week helping her sister recuperate after an operation. She had a real week of it, helping out with the house, looking after the children and at the end of it she travelled back on the train exhausted, but pleased she had done a great thing.

What is lovely about this story is not what she had done, but what was awaiting her at the station as the train pulled in. There was her husband, pleased to see her...holding a hot chocolate with soya milk just the way she likes it.

Pootle and I both sit there saying ahhhh in harmony.
"That is what I want," she said.
I nodded, "yes, a man who doesn't need to be told your favourite things, he just knows. A man who doesn't need to be reminded of what you need..."
"...he just knows." She finishes.

Until Pootle told me about her friend and her husband I never thought such a man existed, but this couple have many stories of where they both respect and think about each other. If he sees she needs contact lenses he gets them for her, there is no need to leave him a note to pick up the dry cleaning...he just does it, and she the same for him.

See where this is going? Perhaps not...

The point of anyone knowing exactly how I take my coffee from Costa or the like would be a representation of what I mean to them, and alas Pootle and I concur that it is unlikely that anyone knows exactly what to order for us.

"We need to encourage that person into our lives," Pootle states.
"Ideally, more than one babe...we don't want to share." I suggest.
"True...ok, we need to have a little fun here."
"Will this type of fun mean you getting your cleansing kit and feather out?"
She smiles at me, "with Jasmine baby!"

So we get to work with candles and salt....Pootle and her feather, burning something in my kitchen that actually smells quite nice...encouraging some positive vibes about the men who know exactly how we take our coffee from Starbucks...should they ever want to surprise us.

"Write what you are looking for...what do you want to invite into your life." Pootle says passing me a piece of paper.
"No arseholes."
"No, no arseholes."
I sit and think about this, "although he will indeed need an arsehole, cos we don't want him to be in pain."
"God, yes...maybe don't write that...we will end up with someone who we need to take to hospital all the time for manual evacuation!"

So we get to work...and write either a list, or a message to the universe. It is quite therapeutic actually and when we are done we stand in our circle (like a pair of old witches), Pootle says a few words and we set fire to our lists.

We nearly smoke the kitchen out...but it is done. The list is out there....and who knows, maybe there will be someone one day waiting for us with that specific cup of coffee and a hug that says I missed you like their life depended on it.