Vegan sausage rolls

There it was again, its two small dead eyes regarding her through the bakery’s glass front. Head cocked onto a dirty grey sloped shoulder. Feet scratching at the gum on the block paving. The problem was that she knew, and the pigeon knew, that sooner or later the heat would become too much. It was backing up already on the shop floor, the ovens had been pumping it out for a solid three hours, and she could feel the sweat starting to bead, and trickle down beneath the company-issue tabard.

It wasn’t so bad in winter, it was a comfort and a friend, filling the bakery with warmth and a steamy fug. But this was June, half past eight in the morning and already the sun was pitiless. The front would have to be opened, it was only a matter of time. She knew this and she knew that the pigeon knew this. It was there every morning.

A few of them had tried it on for a bit; one which was white and brown, rather than the usual mix of greys, there was a one legged one, too, it got about surprisingly well. But gradually they’d stopped hanging around outside the bakery, she still saw the one legged one hopping round by the bins outside the chippy. Only this one remained. Every morning. Staring at her through the glass.

It was only two nights ago that Shirl had said something about reincarnation over Bacardi and cokes in the Queens’, and she was beginning to think that her sister might have been on to something. That man on the telly, she’d said, the one with the purple shirt. He said there’s only so much energy to go round in the Universe, so you have to come back. Makes sense. Makes sense. Stands to reason.

In a way, the pigeon reminded her of her Ron, two years dead and an inveterate thief of pies, pastries and anything she’d bake at home. She’d taken the job to get her out of the house and away from him, then he’d moved on and she’d stayed put because what else was there to do? Yes, there was something in what Shirl said. The pigeon stared at her, tap-tapped the sheet glass with its beak, scratch-scratched its feet and she was sure that its dead dead eyes were saying come on Carol love, you can spare a steak slice for me, can’t you? How about one of them vegan sausage rolls? I’ve heard they’re nice.

A series of poor decisions

 

The one leads to the other. It only takes one Poor Decision and a crack appears in the edifice you’ve built for yourself that day. You’ve got up, done your exercise, a Good Decision. The morning is so full of promise.

You’ll crack it today, and if you can crack it today, then there’s a good chance you’ll crack it tomorrow, and if you do that, well, the rest of your life just sorts itself out doesn’t it? Because Good Decisions lead to Good Outcomes.

Golden Futures.

You’ve done your exercise, and you’ve done your improving tasks for the day. You’ve done a little bit of learning a new language, let’s say German, for argument’s sake.  Der Mann, Die Frau, Das Brot. You’ve made time for yourself, like the app says you should, you are clear headed and ready to begin your day.

You can never tell at which point you’ll make a Poor Decision. The one which will ruin everything.  So you guard against it at all times. Think things through. Ask yourself. Is this lunch I’m making a Good Decision? Yes, it is, going out for lunch would be a Bad decision, because if you go out for lunch, then, well, you’re out, aren’t you? And if you’re out you might as well have a glass of wine, and if you do that, well, you’ve had one, the day’s already gone, you’ve done it now, so you might as well have another.

So you have a healthy lunch, and you’re doing pretty well. The middle aged spread’s been piling on in recent years and yes, you might be two stone heavier than you were at thirty, but you’re two pounds lighter than you were last week, and that’s a step in the right direction, right? Maybe that exercise this morning wasn’t as long as it needed to be, but you’re a busy person. You’ve got lots of Good Decisions to make.

The afternoon and evening are busy, but they always are. You can coast through them, there aren’t any opportunities to screw up. This is why you love to work. There are no decisions to make. You simply plough through, happy and secure in the knowledge that a good day’s work is an essential paving slab on the path to the bright future and wonderful life that you know in your heart are just within reach.

If you keep trying your hardest.

All of your efforts have built a day. You can look back on a day full of Good Decisions, where you've done the right thing by yourself, given yourself the best chance to be the best person that you can be because that's what you have to be because that's what everybody else is. Everybody's the best version of themselves and you can be too if you keep making Good Decisions.

And if at the end of that hard day’s work you are tired, and it’s just the one, why, you’ve earned it, and just like that, you’re gone. But once you’ve had one, you might as well have another. And once you’ve had a couple, you’re hungry.

Because it always has to be good decisions. Because after just one poor one, that’s it.