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.
Sitting on the deck of our new house on the first warm evening of the year on the new garden chairs waiting for the fat (but waning) moon to appear over the trees
Lunting my way through Cherry Tree Wood on a fine morning"To lunt" = to walk while smoking a pipe. A long obsolete verb, but I'm determined to bring it back to usage, even if pipe smokers are now rarer than a moment of fun at a Barry Manilow concert. [Rosie]: It has a bed, a very very nice one :-)
Bouncing maniacally through grass as tall as you are, with one's tongue lolling, one's tail swishing furiously, and one's ears flapping about one's head. I hope it's clear I'm posting this on behalf of someone else without internet access.
Having the tax man pay for one's new bathroom and a holiday in the Greek Islands. Well, not literally, but that's about what the unsolicited tax refund I just received amounts to.
(Only recently discovered) Standing stark naked in a field at 2am, having a much-needed pee in the middle of a raging thunderstorm. (Elemental, my dear Watson)
Having next door's cat (called Yoda) come in and plonk itself down in the kitchen as I make breakfast. I mustn't feed it; it's not mine, more's the pity.
Coming home to the new house that's got better views than some of the places we stayed on holiday. The seasonally changing landscape of fields and trees, four new wind turbines in the past two weeks, but no sea view.
The earthy smell and steaming stacks of the sugar factory 3km from the back of our house (and part of our view), which has started up again with the start of the local sugar beet harvest. It'll run until April.
YouTube Fail Videos, especially the ones in which a dog gets the short end of whatever. Cats pushing dogs downstairs, dogs running full-tilt into glass storm doors, dogs being sucked into black holes. That sort of thing.
Sitting in a ball chair. I found one in a flea market, of all places. I've wanted one ever since seeing No.2's chair in "The Prisoner" and discovering it was a real thing, and I was very tempted, but it wouldn't really fit in my house anywhere.
[Raak] Change your house! (I mean rearrange/reorganise the furniture) It can always be changed back if you change your mind. Things can always be bought and sold.
[pen] I also discovered that you cannot read in a ball chair, unless I installed some sort of interior light. Can't really listen to music either without a set of speakers in there as well. But for shutting out the world and relaxing, there's nothing like it.
Sitting in my very own ball chair. As far as I can tell from pictures on the web, this is the exact Eero Aarnio design. I might velcro a battery-powered reading light to the roof.
"I am Number 2." "Who is Number 1?" "You are Number 6." "I am not a number, I am a free man!" **mocking laughter**
Village shops that not only have the cake-shaped Tupperware box that you need this afternoon in stock, but also gift-wrap the tea towels you bought for your sisters.
[Raak] Now all you need is a dial-under-the-base telephone, an Astro-lamp aka Lavalamp, a golfing umbrella, a weather balloon and some fishing line to tie it to your ankle and you are done (I assume you already have a suitable blazer). If I were any more envious of you I'd turn into a seethe. Will you be constructing a pit c/w hydraulic lift so you can rise from the mysterious Stygian depths seated in your magnificent chaise-ballon when greeting "guests"?
[Bismarck] I am planning to mow a fan pattern from one corner of my lawn. I may try to post a picture if it works. This may happen tomorrow, but is more likely to wait a week, as I have quite a tight schedule tomorrow, and the extra faffing about won't make me popular at home.
[Raak] So you work a magnet crane in a scrapyard now? Cool! Third best real person job in the universe. My research shows the following, as judged by reported job satisfaction and the number of people saying "I always wished I could do that" when the subject of what one does for a living comes up in conversation at a party:
Family visits American niece and boyfriend here for three days. Arrived by overnight ferry to Rotterdam from England this morning, we immediately packed them off to Amsterdam on the train, and looking forward to hearing what they made of it over dinner tonight. I'm cooking roast beef and Yorkshire puddings (by special request) obvs.
Discovering more things I can do with my new spectacles without having to constantly wear a second pair on top of my head and keep switching them over, such as seeing all the icons on the SatNav screen at the same time as driving; being able to use the PIN machine at a petrol station without digging around in my handbag for the second pair first; cooking; making use of all the settings on my camera instead of relying on 'P'; shopping and being able to read the labels. More updates to follow.
(pen) Yes, they're - good, varifocals. I've got them but I still need another pair for music because you need to look through the lower part which means the trombone would be pointing up to the sky. When your focusing mechanism really seizes up as it does to everyone over about 55 you'll have to be quite careful about getting the right prescription. Won't cost any more, though.
Bloody useless things. Everything you need to read in the real world turns out to be at "eye level" which means to read whatever it is I either have to tilt my head so far back the wind makes my nostrils resonate or I have to stand so far back that people wander between me and whatever it is.
