I’d like to talk about a lovely surprise I got from my former flatmate, Liam, about a year ago. We’d lived together during our final year at university in Manchester, and even though we both had hectic schedules with dissertation deadlines, we always tried to catch up over coffee in the evenings.
Out of nowhere, on a completely ordinary Tuesday, he handed me a neatly wrapped parcel. When I opened it, I found a beautifully crafted, leather-bound notebook with thick watercolour paper inside, alongside a set of specialised drawing pencils. A few months earlier, I’d casually mentioned in passing that I really missed sketching and wished I had the motivation to pick it up again, but I’d completely forgotten I’d even said that.
What made it such a huge surprise was that there was no real occasion for it. It wasn’t my birthday, we hadn’t just finished our exams, and it was nowhere near Christmas. Liam had simply spotted it in an independent art shop in town and remembered our brief chat. In our fast-paced daily lives, you don't usually expect people to pay such close attention to offhand remarks, so it caught me completely off guard.
To be honest, I felt immensely touched by the gesture. It wasn’t an excessively lavish item, but the sheer thoughtfulness behind it meant the world to me. It reminded me how fortunate I was to have such an attentive friend, and it actually inspired me to start sketching again every weekend. Even now, whenever I look at that notebook on my desk, it brings a genuine smile to my face.