'Tis the season to be jolly!

A pinch and a punch (or maybe a bowl of mulled wine rather than punch?!) for the first of the month... 

Lo, December is upon us! And it brings with it good tidings and pretty lights. Dream. Once again the shops have been chomping at the bit to engage us in festive spirit (and spending) since about mid-August, but this year I for one have staunchly refused to budge. My pent-up yuletide joy is brimming over today, and so with the start of Advent comes the start of the celebrations. Lambrusco whilst cooking lunch, Christmas tunes blasting out, a giddy sense of glee at the prospect of seeing the city's fairy lights and decorations, and going-ice skating, and buying presents, and going home for the holidays... yes, it is most definitely that time of year once again. And so glad I am of that fact! 

Sure, these particular winter holidays are expensive, fattening, quite often tiring: and afterwards the prospect of a distinct lack of such exciting activity is a tad bleak, especially as we are usually confined to our homes in the long month of January due to excessive expenditure in December, but hey! It's worth it. Love and be loved. Be happy, merry, and jolly. Enjoy yourself and the company of those you care for, and delight in the joy the season extends. If you're the Scrooging type, well, then it'll all be over soon, so might as well make a go of it while it's here. And if not, then all the better for you, and continue to seize the opportunity whole-heartedly and with seasonal spirit. Have a mince pie, a glass of mull, put on a carol or two, and festive-cheer the heck out of this month! 


Please note: glad tidings too to those who do not celebrate Christmas. This is just my personal merriment and not a commentary on societal behaviour nor what we should follow... to each his own - I just hope that each enjoys what he or she is doing, and shares the love. Happy winter-time joy-spreading, everyone! 

Tache-tastic

Well, well. It's that time again, folks - the period when it suddenly becomes acceptable to sport an otherwise antisocial amount of facial hair and all in the name of charity. Or at least to try, anyway. 'Movember' is fantastic. Not only is it embracing a trend some people have shunned - (myself included, in the past: I'm all for that rugged look, but scratchy lower-face hair is often uncomfortable for the wearer, and, in my case, the 'kissee') - but it encourages styling and grooming alongside, resulting in less hobo more handlebar. And to top it all off, it's helping others. WIN. 

The styles adopted vary from person to person (according to their ability to sprout facial hair and the effort they put into maintenance thereof), but sadly it is not a trend that has caught on yet here on the [European] continent. I did glimpse a chap with a terrific wizard beard on the metro yesterday, to which I would doff my invisible hat time and time again... not sure if he was slightly odd and with semi-secret Merlin-esque tendencies, getting some serious preparation in for 'Decembeard', or just a legend. Either way, bravo, sir! 

Having seen some pretty impressive moustachery in my time, including a wonderful handlebar on a jazz musician that must have taken a great deal of time and effort to nurture (again, I salute you!), I am most pleased that the humble moustache has made the leap back to its former self as an iconic symbol: from once being a historic badge of status and power, it crept further and further away to the realms of society's outskirts, but is now re-emerging triumphant. The fact that it in doing so it is providing some benefit to others is simply marvellous.

Sure, I'm still not desperately inclined to get up close and personal with any myself, and I'd rather the clean-shaven, or ideally, slightly rough shadowy look on a man, but that said, I bow down with utmost respect for this art form of charitable male grooming. 

I only ask that we not stray too far past this current stage. Any more face-hair-related months would be overkill. And, quite frankly, the thought of 'Septembrows' is disturbing to say the least... 

The Witching Hour

Isn't there something wonderful in being up and about in the early morning hours (sans drunken stupor of course)?! Alright, so I suppose I'm referring more to the state of already being up at that time, either at the end of a night or for some ulterior purpose, say during a journey, or to stargaze, or some other such motive, rather than the act of having to get up early-bird style for work... The latter in itself is, I concede, a chore, but once up there's nothing to stop you making the most of things and appreciating the dawn. 
At this hour, country-dwellers are blessed with an infinite of stars to behold, whilst their urban compatriots have the surreal wonders of a sleeping city. The eerie calm that steals across the land for those precious few hours around 3am (or 5am if we're on the continent) turns the working world into a hazy memory, a mirage in the distance of "tomorrow"...

And seemingly anything becomes possible in the twilight. We are more daring: despite our minds' increased sense of paranoia, insisting on offering any and every danger as a what-happens-next scenario, we brave the night and journey on. We dare to dream: what the future has in store for us what we might like to do, given the chance, who we might be with for each of the above... We are more prone to ponder life's great questions - and what's more, we're like to find clarification at this tranquil hour over most others without their busy frenzy of distractions. It is a time for thought, for musing, for gazing and seeking, and, hopefully, finding. 

Gradually, the sun begins to peep over the horizon, and so either we head to bed to rest our weary heads, or we face the day ahead with that edge of perspective that only one who's seen the day's sunrise can have (be it of clarity and wisdom, or merely a smugness and entitlement to gripe for having been up the longest... either way). Evidently this idea does not hold the same romantic charm on a rainy day, so far be it from me to oblige philosophical wanderings during a 4am downpour. No siree. But what I'm saying is that if or when you do find yourself in the limbo that lies in wait between dusk and dawn, use the surreality to gain perspective over your own affairs, appreciate the certainty of the sun breaking into a new day, make your decisions and resolutions and then go out and stick to them. 

The morals of this story are: 
Live well the day you're given, and love what you're living. 
If you don't like it, change it, and if you don't change it, like it! 

So I say thank you for the music

On a run around the park last week, I reached the point where I just wanted to give up. Despite the encroaching winter, the sun was hot on my face, and my feet decided that they quite simply had had enough. End of. And thus I ground to a halt. It was only when skipping aimlessly through songs and a feel-good tune suddenly came on that I realised I could in fact continue and finish my run (and thank goodness for that!) so on I slogged and made it back home in one piece. 

Today I therefore want to pay homage to the miracle that is music. 

It is an art form unlike any other, as it flits between visual and aural, across many media, it varies from place to place yet it is found in each and every pocket of the world. It can be created with nothing or with a whole host of instruments, technologies, or anything at all really... Even with lyrics it can be understood through the sentiment of the notes themselves - yet the very same notes in a different order, rhythm, or speed might belay an entirely different feeling. And no matter how much music is composed, it seems that day in, day out, there is so much more just waiting to be discovered.  

One of the things I find most intriguing about music is its ability to shift moods. Just one song can completely turn your day around - if you're feeling a bit down because things aren't going your way, a long-forgotten favourite can put a smile back on your face and brighten up the afternoon, for example. But more than that, just a few notes put together a certain way can evoke such deep feelings as to bring a tear, a smile, a tug of the heartstrings... Furthermore, it is used to heighten the emotions of film - if you imagine watching Jaws without that soundtrack of suspense and horror but with some pan pipes or 90s pop or country music instead, do you think gripping terror would still reign? Somehow I doubt it... Similarly if it were not Hans Zimmer's emotive soundtrack over the concluding scenes of Gladiator but the dulcit tones (and here I use the term with just a smidgeon of irony) of Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus, for example, I think there'd be a good chance of rating turning to slating. Or not - whatever floats your boat.
But the overall message is that when you're a bit low, you can always use music to help lift your spirits. And when you're happy, well it just makes things even sweeter! For me, it's all about soundtracking life. I love to put some music on when cooking and travelling, and it helps keep me sunny-side-up. Dancing round the kitchen, spatula in hand, blasting out some 80s classics, or doing the washing up and humming along to some acoustic chillout... Club beats are best kept for prepping for nights out, whilst classical music works well as a background for dinners or whilst working. Big band jazz or poppy 50s/60s is great to bop along to during the household chores, and 90s music is always good. Have a dabble, try out some new bands, see what works for you... maybe you'll make some discoveries or rediscoveries along the way! 

Music is also an immense vessel for memory. Emotions flow through it in the present, certainly, and can inspire such profound feelings at the time of listening, but a melody can also hark back to times gone by, and elicit the sentiment felt at the time, either from the listener or from the subject of the piece. You don't have to have lived the events or situations described by the music to relate to the emotions behind it, and that's what makes it so powerful. What's more, it can be months, years, decades, centuries even before the song is heard again and it can still have the same capacity for inspiration. And, I suppose, linked to this is the fact that a musical moment or a particular song can trigger memories from your own past, emotions relating to people, certain times of your life, even down to very moments themselves... And no matter where we hear the song or what we are doing, for a fleeting second we are transported back to that other point and for better or worse we recall what passed and relive it once more. Magic. 

And one of the best things about music is its ability to connect people. No matter who you are or what your musical taste, there's always going to be someone who shares your opinions and someone else who doesn't - but that's the beauty of it. It can create surprising unions and break down barriers like nothing else - and now more than ever there are so many varieties and fusions that it's impossible not to like something accessible... Yes, there are still and probably will always be particular genres and groups adhering to the stereotypes thereof, but they aren't limiting. Obviously you can decide for yourself to stay within a particular area of music, and that's fine - it's good to know what you like and enjoy it. Maybe you even play music yourself, so you have something in common with others who do the same. Playing an instrument or singing or even recording your own digital music is a great way of meeting new people and making new friends, I heartily condone it! It's passion in itself to express yourself through a musical form, such that it probably brings you closer than most if you connect to someone else through that music. 
But the point is that no-one can govern your music tastes, you're free to make your own choices, and there's just so much to choose from that you can have all your cakes and eat them too! You shape your own musical life, and right down to a day-to-day or even minute-to-mintue basis - all you have to do is just change your tune... 

The bottom line is: if music be the food of love, play on! 

If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck... it wants to be a duck, so let it be a duck!

This one goes out to all the wannabes out there... 
I, for one, am currently doing my utmost to blend in with the locals here in Spain. This is no mean feat, as despite my best efforts, my frequent butchering of the language and quite blatant lack of natural 'latin' attitude soon become painstakingly apparent. Which serves to render me all the more flustered and I this commit even more crimes against the Spanish tongue. (Mierda.)
Yet all is not lost, as fortunately there are still those who will take pity on a bumbling Brit and relish the chance either to practice whatever English they've picked up along the way or at the very least give zealous correction of the many linguistic errors made. 
The ultimate triumph for me, however, did not come in sophisticated conversation with a handsome stranger (alas!), nor bantering with the locals in the bar, nor even in finally achieving the blissful art of the siesta, but in being able to understand and be understood by a three-year-old (well, for the most part anyway). The awesome ramblings of a Spanish toddler - or one of any other nationality, as it happens - are difficult enough to comprehend with a language in common. So imagine my delight when I found that I had substantially mastered this second language to follow (again, most of) his chatter, and thus try to answer his inspired questions - with a lack of response on my part hereby indicating the difficulty of providing an adequate answer to a child's inquisition rather than linguistic fault for once. 
I would therefore like to impress upon you, dear reader, that should there be something you'd like to do, somewhere you'd like to go, or more importantly, someone you'd like to be, and you have the opportunity to put it into practice, then go for it! Take that chance, try your hardest, and enjoy it while you do. If it's within the realms of your human capability (and is not harmful to others) then you should make every effort to realise your dreams, for, as they say, life doesn't have a dress rehearsal... This is it. Feel it, believe it, love it, eat it, think it, see it, be it, do it while you can. And take a few moments each day to enjoy what you're feeling, believing, loving, eating, thinking, seeing, being, doing, as who knows if or when it'll happen that way again! It's all very well and good planning for the future or reflecting on the past, but if we spend all our minutes thus occupied we'll forget to actually live life itself... Once again, I find myself coming back to repeat my mantra, but here it is anyway: carpe diem. Be yourself, as nobody else will do it for you. (Unless your name is Elvis Presley, in which case I think there are a few people who'd like to have a word...) Go out and live your life the way you'd like to live it, and make the most of what you've got and what comes your way. Work hard, play hard, live hard. And don't forget to smile! 

A tale of two cities...

Of all the gin joints in all the world... Actually, all the gin joints currently seem to be in Madrid. It's the latest thing, apparently. (I suppose they feel they've been missing out on good ole G+T and want to make up for lost time - and hats off to that!) But that's another story. The tale I wish to tell is that of global citizenship. People across the world still love and care for one another, there's no doubt about it. And despite our differences, it's always possible to make new friends in the strangers you come across, even in far-off lands, as they accept you into their lives. With some, it's down to a mild interest in your differences and similarities. For others, it means welcoming you into their homes and families with open arms. Either way (or anywhere in between) it's apparent that life is too short to keep our distance, we have to make the most of whatever and whoever comes our way, and if that means being a bit more open to life's passers-by then so be it (within the limits of personal security, naturally). You will, I'm sure, be familiar with the ditty 'if life gives you lemons [insert positive turnaround here]' - well I'm saying 'if life gives you new friends, share your lemonade/tequila slammers/[lemon-based product] with them and enjoy the heck out of it all... 'Do unto others' would be another way of putting it - if you'd want you and yours to be accepted and treated well when in a new place, then make sure to do the same within your own realm. 

But on a lighter note, my current blithe musings are as follows: it seems that no matter where you go in the world (potentially with the exception of that as-yet uninhabited corner of deepest darkest peru, naturally), there are people patterns - there are incredibly similar habits and the same set of residents repeated in every city. 
Take, for example, the subterranean train system. In it, you'll find the one listening to music, the one napping, the one reading (quite often a girl worryingly absorbed in the latest trashy fad novel), the one with small children and sometimes the one who dares engage these tots in play (great fun wind the little mites up and leave them in the ever-capable hands of their parents. Win!), the one playing with their phone, the foreigner, the ones overdressed, underdressed, dressed in quite frankly bizarre concoctions of outfit... And with frequent use, you'll inevitably end up crammed in like sardines one day, and breathing free and easy the next. Go figure. But that's by the bye. The folks within are effectively still one and the same, just with a handful of new names, and a different way of talking. 

So the next time you're out and about in a new place, be it, or not, your own country, take a sneaky glance at the people around you (and here I mean subtly as opposed to furtively, we are not trying to be creepy nor appear to dabble in espionage) and just see if you can see your friends/family/colleagues reflected in the faces of those you come across. Perhaps one day, you'll even meet yourself... who knows? 

And this season, it's all about maroon.

I'm excited. In the not-too-distant future I will be moving abroad (life win!) and starting a new job, and I just can't wait. The thrill of the unknown combines with the prospect of starting afresh, being able to recolour my life any which way I please, sparking a shiver of anticipation at the thought... Giddy ideas ensue. What to do? Where to explore? Who to meet? What to buy, eat, drink, watch, hear, see? How to feel? 

Going away to a new place always presents challenges and opportunities galore. Clearly, some element of planning is necessary to ensure a safe transition, yet the most fun is to be had in discovering the hidden gems that only its residents would know about, and meeting a local character or two. Certainly, I'm going to miss my old haunts and my day-to-day people - friends, family, familiar faces - but it'll be wonderful to find some new ones.

And (packing for) all this change nicely coincides with the gear of the 'new season' arriving in shops across the city. September's colours and heavier cloths remind us that autumn and then winter are on their way, that we should be thinking about the things to come, wrapping up warm, opting for scarves instead of shades. I'm not going to go down the Christmas route as I'm in favour of getting excited for that when the time is right (December, and not before!) - but there are always things to brighten up the post-summer darkening. For those with late-year birthdays, result! It's nearly your turn. For those without, there's always fireworks season, the joys of mulling (a warm cider or wine is always a fine treat on a nippy day), the colour of the canopies ready to drop, and subsequent crispy foliage ready and waiting to be stomped in or thrown about, the absolute joy that is a snow day (need I say more?), being able to justify hot chocolate to warm the cockles from the cold, a blazing fireside or candelit window, curling up in a blanket with a good book, even just giving the long-forgotten winter coat a new lease of life... Bring it, winter. We're ready and waiting.

Giving something back. Quid pro bono?

’Tis the season to be generous, fa la la la... Actually, I’m a firm believer of giving what you can when you can, and that charity comes around full circle. ‘Do unto others...,’ yadda yadda.
Following the ‘Yes Man’ philosophy can certainly have its drawbacks – in terms of time and location constraints, let alone financially speaking! – but it does come with a sense of liberation. The knowledge that you may have helped someone or brightened up their day even the tiniest bit is soul-soothing indeed. You may well say ‘but I simply do not have the time, the patience, the energy!’ – but it is not about giving so much of yourself away that barely anything remains for you and yours. Generosity is shown in wishing someone a nice day (and meaning it!), in sharing a smile with a stranger (okay, not the creepy ones, but you get the gist), in donating leftover change, in waiting the extra second to hold the door for someone, in offering assistance or advice to the person in a pickle...
And no matter how full your plate, trust me, it is always worth saying yes if you do have the option to help someone out: this summer I ended up agreeing to four entirely separate projects scattered about the country (only the first of which was reimbursed). Upon realising what lay in store, my initial reaction went something along the lines of 'oh. dear. what have I done...' and I was regretting the quagmire of volunteer-based efforts to be required over the subsequent weeks. Yet I was rewarded with irreplacable experiences each and every time - definitely worth the slog!

For me, though, it's all about saying the unspoken thank yous, repaying the kindness shown over the years, both to you individually and to your world in general. It's about respecting the world we live in and all its people, and it's about looking out for those to come. It's about setting the best example possible for generations to come, and doing our best with what we've got. But this is starting to sound frightfully hippie, so let's just say we'll do what we can, and enjoy it regardless. 

The Little People Know...

This is not, in fact, a reference to Les Mis (much as that is a wonderful work of musical theatre and deserves each and every homage paid). No, this piece bows down to the miraculous minds of the young, or at the very least, the young at heart. 
The imagination of a child is true and boundless. It flexes and reshapes without a moment's hesitation, daring to reach out into the unknown, transporting its bearer to far-off lands and magical worlds, to new, or old, or impossible. It brings hope, fear, love, uncertainty, trust, faith... To those who have seen too many summers and deigned to grow world-weary, it seems absurd and abstract; to those who are well-versed in the lyrically obscure, or who are known to dabble in daydreams themselves, it is insightful and inspired - though far be it from the child to know his or her muse. Children are able to form wondrously varied opinions, and yet their naivety allows them the freedom to flit and change between the ideas that dart in and out of their heads... If they only knew what miniature philosophers they can be! 
Having lived and worked with a selection of youngsters the last week, it has amazed me time and time again to witness firsthand the limitless exploration of young minds - the way they scamper off down one path and somehow manage to end up hopping across tangents, to find themselves on some entirely different, and oft never-before-trod route: ask a child a question and just see what narrative adventures you stumble across... 
The choice pondering during the aforementioned week was this: "if you woke up one morning and you were just three inches tall, what would you do?" 
Interestingly enough, when thus questioned, the 'adult' response (and here I use the term rather loosely) generally involved some sort of concealed espionage... worrying to say the least. But the children took that question and boy did they run with it. Responses ranged from 'climb inside a teddy bear,' 'tickle someone, but with my elbows, so they'd still feel it,' 'ride a paper plane' (in actual fact, these were all the genius of one individual mind - who'd have thought?!), 'make friends with the mice,' 'get a lift in someone's hat so you can see the world from up high,' to, quite simply, 'cry.'  
Thus, I dare you to put it to the test (or even ask yourself if you don't have a whippersnapper to borrow), and watch the thoughts tangle, weave, and spiral away... what mysteries will you uncover? 

Here comes the sun...

Sunshine is magic. This sounds like romantic drivel, I concede, but I do believe there must be more than just poetic rhyme or reason behind this, having witnessed first hand the way it changes not just individuals, but whole towns, cities, countries...
Sunshine gives us hope. It lights up the day, the place, the people. It reminds us of summer, of holidays, of barbecues. It brings laughter, frolicking in parks, strolls along the river...
Sunshine gives us spirit. It makes us braver, sexier, cheerier. It tans us, warms us, soothes us.
Sunshine makes the flowers grow, the birds sing, the people give...
Today a friend and I decided to take a stroll across the city. We meandered through the parks and by the lakeside at sunset, and en route stopped off for some frozen yoghurt to cool off in the unanticipated but very welcome heatwave. As we stood pondering the menu, flitting between old classics and new favourites, the young gentleman about to pay took us all by surprise when he asked the cashier if he could pay for the entire queue's orders. Despite the fact that he had an unlimited card that was on the verge of expiry, and thus could easily afford the charitable gesture, this sort of kindness does not usually come about, and on this occasion had probably surged from the madness arising from the excessive heat (another by-produce thereof as well as the desire for cold dairy produce, it seems). This man, this everyday hero, burst through the private bubbles of all involved, inviting us to share in his good fortune, for no other reason than that he could... I'm grateful to him for the gift (free pud - who wouldn't be?!) but I'm also grateful to know that human kindness and generosity is not a mere myth, but might be waiting around the corner, a pleasant surprise when you least expect it...
Social barriers apparently begin to crumble when the sun comes out. Not only in conversation, where discussing a sunny day is never a faux-pas introduction, but in interaction, where approaching a random stranger or joining in on their game/chat/debate becomes a lot more tolerable and thus commonplace on sunnier days. Bad humours are forgotten a lot more easily when there is no drizzle to keep the mood dampened, and rightly so!
Thus... sunshine is magic. It makes the air taste of possibility. It makes the city tingle. It weaves a spell that leaves us with rainbow sunsets and rosy reflections, it sets buildings aglow with its dying rays, casts a wondrous halo about the twilit streets, tantalises us with the promise of tomorrow... sunshine is magic.

Creature Comforts

Then...


Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops. Balloons. Fireworks. Sleepovers. Popping candy. Starjumps. Pink lemonade. Hula-hooping. Make-believe. Party bags. Snowfights. Cuddly toys. Swings. Jelly and ice cream. Wishing wells. Skipping. Friendship bracelets. Dressing up. Action Man/Barbie. Midnight snacks. Fairytales. Staying up late. Water fights. Apple bobbing. Face paint. Frisbees. Food fights. Blanket teepees. Finger painting. Paper planes. Chinese whispers. Adventures. Candy floss. Marbles. Trolls. Collecting stickers. Free gifts in cereal packets. PG Tips monkeys. Cargo pants. Pop music. Toffee apples. Musical chairs. Space hoppers. Walkman. Discman. Pogo sticks. Rollerblading. Pass the parcel. Chocolate spread sandwiches. Pocket money. Riding without stabilisers. Gel pens. Bubble bath. Glitter. Calling for someone. Climbing trees. Grazed knees. Hamsters. Bubblegum. Tooth Fairy/Easter Bunny/Santa. Bouncy castles. Spaghetti hoops. Teddy bears' picnics. Go-karting. Sherbet. Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.


Now...


Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops... Cups of tea. Fresh laundry. Cut grass. Cupcakes. Really long grass. Comfy. Candles. Starlight. Cheesecake. Romance. Streetlamps. Burritos. Walks. Cats or Dogs. Freebies. Sun. Cocktails. Photography. Cosy beds. Novels. Dancing in the rain. Flip-flops. Beer pong. Cards. Concerts. Staying up to watch the sunrise. Sofas. Beach parties. Baking. Fluffy towels. Chocolate fountain. Missing someone. Kissing someone. Disco dancing. Tapas. Sightseeing. A full fridge. Cinema trips. Lattes. Pub quiz. Ice cream in pints. Outdoor ice rinks. House parties. Art. Surprises. Lunch out. Wine tasting. Mattress testing. Foreign accents. Glowsticks... Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.

Great Expectations

There's nothing quite as motivating as having something to look forward to, no matter how simple or how important; be it something new in your daily routine, such as an exotic food for dinner, or a more grandiose affair like a holiday or major life event. I daresay you will be familiar with the old countdown, the idea of 'this time next week, I'll be...' and so on. 
But even on a minute scale, the trifles that we are waiting for can sweeten the passage of time until their arrival. My direction, today, is therefore simple: count your blessings. Enjoy the flutters of anticipation, and savour the moment itself when it arrives, no matter how unimportant it may seem in the grand scheme of things. 
If you feel you haven't any meritable events on the horizon, then allow yourself to await smaller pleasures: a sweet treat, going to the cinema, trying a new look, taking the scenic route, seeing an old friend, spending some time in the sun, dining out instead of eating in... Whatever it may be, find something and let it brighten your day and increase your smile factor. 
There's really no point worrying over negative things either - if there is a solution, find it and amend the situation, if there isn't, then worrying will only make everything worse surely? So better to concentrate on the good, for being even just a little bit excited will make things that much more enjoyable. In the immortal words of one Mr. Bob Marley, therefore, "Don't worry. Be happy..." 

Bob.

At the request of a good friend, the name of this post is just that – a name. Perhaps an ostentatious title such as, say, ‘Sea Lord Lemuel Ferdinand of Pimm’ would have been better. Certainly seems like the name of some gregarious chap, I’d bet he wears a spiffing monocle and carries a cane... Anyway, it has a quaint charm, but that’s by that literary bye – which brings me to the crux of today’s ramble; the weird and wonderful wordery that is the English language. Other than being rather handily spoken in oh, let’s say, three out of the four corners of the globe, and probably that bit in the middle as well, English is a remarkable little series of signifiers and signifieds, sounds and meanings, rules and (more often than not) exceptions... It is delectable and marvellous and somehow utterly bewildering all at once. Think, if you will, about the following little morsels: 

• ‘I read a book.’ Did you imagine it to be present or past?  
• ‘I live here’ vs. ‘A live concert’ – same word, no?
• Though/thought – why does that ‘t’ change the way it’s said?
• Sunday morning/Sundae morning – or maybe both would be nice...
• They’re over there reading their books. – beware the Grammar Nazis should you muddle! 
• Scone – need I say more?! 

I was also flabbergasted (oh yes indeed) to learn of the magical word ‘ghoti’, to be pronounced either ‘fish’ using the gh in tough, o in women, ti in nation; or silently using the gh in although, o in people, t in ballet, and i in business. Such deceit! Such trickery! And yet it doth follow our very own rules – how are we to negate either form?! Such tomfoolery. 

Indeed, English oft seems to dance to its own tune. I’m not one to quibble it, it’s more fun to admit bemusement and marvel at its puzzles - but why there can’t be crannies without nooks I will never know. Next time you happen across an intriguing word or phrase, savour it like a boiled sweet rolling around your tongue - ‘discombobulated’ is a good one for size! 

I, on the other hand, shall just content myself with living for the day when I actually see someone waltz into a room... 

Scentsational

Sitting on the tube today, minding my own business, I was caught unawares as a lady sat down next to me who smelt of Fizzers (for those unfortunate enough not to remember these delights, they were small fizzy sweets from about 15 years ago, made by Swizzels, which looked like a roll of pastel-coloured pills - akin to love hearts. Très retro). I was immediately whisked back to days of musical chairs and party bags filled with parma violets, balloons, balls, and candy necklaces; days of make-believe adventures as cowboys and gold-rushers (oh yes, we dreamt big!)... As I smiled to myself, mind wandering off on a journey through the past, I found myself quite happy to have been spiritually transported to my youth by a mere smell, the simplest of triggers yet with such connotations as to spark numerous flashbacks. It wasn't the first time, and I doubt it will be the last - perfumes hold a memory of a certain person or place, certain food aroma combinations can mentally carry us off to a land once visited, even things as simple as wood-smoke, turpentine, cut grass or fresh linen can evoke a comforting notion of 'home'... 


And this can happen anytime, anywhere. Next time you're popping into the supermarket see if you can't feel the gentle tickle of an Italian breeze when you smell the lemons, or the bustle of a little seaside harbour as you wander past the fish counter, or the groan of a floury workbench where the mouthwatering fresh bread is kneaded. The smell of carrier bags as they are rustled open alludes to the goodies and treats they will soon be filled with. 
Think about your own reactions - inhale deeply and let yourself be spirited away for a moment next time you catch the scent of something that sparks a pleasant memory... Why not?!

These are a few of my favourite things

Forgive me, dear reader, for the latter philosophical interlude. Let me assure you that this little elucidation is a much more trivial morsel: that of new favourites. Be this, as it may, in relation to newfound culinary delights, a recently discovered shortcut, a ‘wow-I-can’t-put-this-down’ novel, a song that although sticks in the mind over and over is surprisingly pleasant therein, a now-adopted personality-defining cocktail, or just a newly learnt word or fact that has to be evinced wherever possible; there is something to be said for the frisson of excitement found when one realises one has developed such a fancy for something as to superlative away and label it ‘the best’. Indeed, it is fresh and invigorating to learn that whilst we can maintain the comfort of our old favourites, we still have room to adapt and take on new likes or dislikes, such as reinventing ourselves to be interested in photography, or taking a sudden shine to the colour purple. I am not insinuating that we should all aim for hipster status, proclaiming new opinions to stand out from the crowd. I just mean to say that it can be a rather good idea to look for new inspiration - seek out new pleasures, frequent new haunts, and by all means cultivate your happiness in whichever tiny things suit. Personally I’ve taken a fancy of late to mangoes, experimenting with spices, trying to voice compliments instead of just thinking them, and making the most of whatever opportunities come my way. I also happen to have a discovered a fondness for sloths.  And further to all this, as a childhood ditty goes, “Make new friends but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold”. It is important that we keep in touch not just with our friends and loved ones but with the essence of ourselves. And it is also important to embrace new potential and develop new friendships. A stranger is a friend in waiting. This may not always be the case, and certainly may not always be a wise mantra to follow (beware of applying this in dark alleyways, for example...) but why not ask someone how they’re doing, and mean it? Why not say hi to an out-of-touch friend? Why not smile at someone who looks a little sad, just to cheer them up? And why not go out and explore the world around you, discover some new favourites for yourself, and make the most of it rather than waiting for that special occasion or rainy day - you only live once... 

Rainy days and Mondays

On particularly drab days, we seem, in general, less inclined to smile. Through the dreary drizzle we ‘trudge’ and ‘mope’ with heads bowed against the rain, in place of ‘strolling’ or ‘meandering’ along sunlit boulevards... Sunglasses swapped for umbrellas, we huddle ourselves away under waterproof layers, and raise our shields to divert the downpour. 

Call me overly British for talking about the weather, but it can be a real game-changer, and there’s a lot to be said for paying attention to pathetic fallacy: the notion of the mood reflecting the weather definitely takes body when the rains come down, as misery levels inevitably do go up. Heed must be taken on these days to not let such a triviality ‘dampen‘ our spirits (if you’ll pardon the pun).  


But if we take a moment, we might see the glistening raindrops chase each other down the window pane; the cherry blossom reflected in the rivery pavement’s mirrored surface; the way bright colours are accentuated as they stand against the backdrop of grey; the beaming smile of a wellied-up child stomping in puddles... If we never pause and appreciate whatever comes our way, we might miss the rich smell of the warm earth after a good soaking, the salty tang of the sea in the breeze, or the patter of nature’s drumbeat as it strikes the paving. For, after all, the sheer magic and majesty of a good thunderstorm or the delight of letting it all go and just dancing in the rain are surely rivals to a the calm enshrouding a balmy evening or the splendour of starlit dusk, are they not?
And yet we forget it all as soon as there is a dampness in the air. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not keen on unsolicited outdoor showering, nor the chilly sensation of moist feet in wintery weather. But the beauty of torrential rain is that sometimes you just have to give in, admit that your shoes are simply beyond drenched, and enjoy that liberating ‘squelching’ feeling that is associated with wet socks, or walking in flip-flops down a flooding road. 

And the best part about it all? When the sun comes out after the rain. The glorious surprise of warm rays placating the earth, transforming monochrome to technicolor, dappling shadows here and there, buds unfurling and stretching their petals in the glow, safe in the knowledge that after the rain, all will be right in the end. And ultimately, that a few drops of rain can be as beautiful and valuable as a nice dose of sun. Enjoy. 

Seize the day...

Life is what you make of it. We only get one chance (unless we are Buddhist, or a cat, but otherwise this is the general consensus). For this reason, I believe it is important to look for the brighter side of life, seeking out the little oddities and nicenesses that make the mundane a little less drab, the everyday a tad more exciting, or which just provoke a smile.


I would thus like to share with you, dear reader, the various aspects from which these simple pleasures can be derived. It is not to say that I am by any means an expert, nor that you are unable to discover these delights by yourself - I merely wish to share with you the tidbits that have tickled my fancy, that you may in turn feel that tweak at the corner of your mouth whenever you come across them.
For, after all, sharing is caring.


The first, then, comes in the form of The Human Touch. I do not mean by this the literal physical contact between two or more persons, nice as that may be (we'll save that one for another day, perhaps) - nay, I refer to those little nuances added to technical, mechanical, or institutional processes or devices.
For example, at my place of work, there is an entry system telling the receptionist various figures and where necessary giving instructions as to how to deal with the customer. The nicety found here, however, lies in the small detail that as per it being a customer's life anniversary, the system proffers a 'Happy Birthday!' to pass on to them. Although I have not resorted to singing the felicitation (yet!) I have oft received a taken-aback smile in response to this well-wishing. Don't we all love being noticed? And so, despite it still being a hideous system with a great many flaws, this tiny redeeming feature shows that its creator had a heart, and wanted to reach out in this simple way. Kudos.


Time to learn by example, and sincerely wish you a nice day, a happy birthday or un-birthday, and general contentment with whatever today may bring.


I dare you to smile...