By the time this reaches you we will be several days past the Autumn Equinox.

I wanted to mark the day with an outing to a favourite place that I don't get to visit very often. Robin Hood's Bay is an extremely quaint seaside village in North Yorkshire.

I started with a leisurely lunch at a cafe, sitting outside in warm sun with beautiful views of the bay. I then made my way down steep steps towards the seafront. A small shop caught my eye and I went in to investigate. The shop-keeper kindly helped me look at the ingredients of some dog treats which was great because I hadn't my glasses on me. I bought some, still chatting happily away, and left to continue my pottering around.

A couple of hours later I was making my way back up the hill feeling blessed by a lovely time by the sea. Passing 'the dog shop' I saw the woman shop keeper standing outside, talking to two others. She looked stressed and was deep in conversation. I heard her mention 'lost keys' and say 'I can lock the shop but I can't get home'. I felt empathic.

It's always a relief to finish the steep climb from the sea-front to the car park. Feeling a bit tired and hungry I was glad to get back to my car. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my big bunch of keys. But as I looked down at them in my hand they looked unfamiliar - these were not my keys! Oh no!

The shop-keeper's keys must have been on the counter and I'd mistakenly picked them up. So off I rushed back down the hill, trying to get to the shop before it closed. But I was too late. There was a pub a couple of doors down and I went in. They had heard about the lost keys. They knew the shop keeper's friend and were confident of quickly getting the keys back to her. So I left them there and made my way back up the hill for the second time.

Before I'd reached the top of the hill I managed to track down a phone number for the shop and left an apologetic voicemail. Shortly after I got a call back. 'It wasn't me you saw in the shop, it was my helper. Have you the keys? She's called out a company to break into her car'. Oh no again!

We were too late to cancel the call out. The woman incurred all the cost of that, plus some lost tuition fees from her evening. I felt so sorry for all her hassle, stress and financial loss. I decided to offer to contribute to her costs and tussled in my mind as to how much. In the end I decided it fair to 'share some of the financial pain' and was quite generous. I wanted to try and provide her story with a 'silver lining'... of kindness and care. Hoping the gesture might then somehow ripple out into the world. This felt self-nourishing too. The money was not the only thing to consider.

This week's self-kindness invitation is to give yourself time and space to reflect on any 'silver linings' you have encountered recently... some 'good' that may have arisen out of adversity/difficulty of some kind. And to be thankful for all acts of kindness.

Go well.

In warmth and kindness

Barbara