A chance to exchange notes on the little everyday things that cheer you up when you're down, or make an ordinary day into a better one. Winning move unaltered.
[penelope] the Dead Sparrows used to practice over Nettleham Police HQ when I was a late teenager there. I feel a special bond to them (especially after one of them waved both hand and wings to me and my mum while we were dog-walking). I miss watching the three new recruits each winter gradually getting closer and closer to the other six as their confidence and skill grow. Hence: The Red Arrows
The two glasses of lovely red house wine I just drank with dinner in the restaurant in the next village, and the resulting headiness.. Long day, taking notes to transcribe a conference on which I have been working on the planning for 6 months. I was there at 07.45 and left at 18.00 . Dinner out with the windy miller. I didn't let him get a word in edgeways as I unburdened the events of the day, an d it took two glasses of wineto tell him everything. What a cheap date.
[Tuj] I've eaten asparagus many times, and never noticed this alleged odour. However, I can't say I've ever sniffed my pee, so who knows what delights I've missed :-) Rapid debugging of other people's code
There was a philosopher of whom I have read that he once walked into a room and announced, "I've just had the most glorious bowel movement!" Ah, one recognises the feeling.
The words "This one's on me" when uttered by the landlord of one's local at 10.30 on a Sunday night. Ok, so it's not an everyday occurrence, but it made my day.
(Phil) cf. this: I presented a nearly empty glass and said "Just a half in there" and meant it. The man topped it up. "It's an Irish half", said he, and he was indeed of the Hibernian persuasion. I had to drive home rather carefully.
[Rosie] We used to call that a pensioner's half, or a Hilton Half. Named after Hilton Spratt, who was at that time a very young Conservative councillor, and is now Mayor of Lincoln. My new local does a good generous half too :-)
Right now. I'm sitting outside at 11pm on Friday evening with a cup of coffee, a citronella candle and the iPad, with the prospect of three whole weeks off work. I don't go back until August 12. And there's a heatwave.
Still being alive. After 3 near death experiences in the last 12 months, simply still being here, watching us tonk the Aussies, despite being other-half-less, is more than enough to make me smile. The fact it's warm and sunny helps, too.
[nights] Oh cor yes. On a childhood holiday we drove through the Mont Blanc Tunnel along the road to Aosta and the alternating bridges and mountainside galleries were spectacular.
[cfm] BBBBzzzzttt!! Oh no - that's a cringeworthy task! (Or is it just me who thinks that, because my husband has never written me a love letter so all the ones I have kept are from previous and rejected or jilting boyfriends?)
And a proper move: Sitting on the sofa reading a gloriously huge, heavy book printed in 1943 that references and discusses a whole load of medieval manuscripts... and being able to view those manuscripts in their entirety a couple of minutes later just by walking over to my computer and downloading complete full-colour facsimiles from the host library. How I love the 21st century. I imagine that the author of the said book (the musicologist Higinio Anglés) would have creamed his academic pants at the prospect, especially since, working at that moment in history, even the slow option of travelling around Europe to visit the collections in person wasn't open to him.