Happiness wouldn’t be happiness without a violin playing goat, once said a wiser woman than I. But dear, smiley Julia Roberts was wrong.
Happiness is a sunny Monday in February. Doilleys handwashed in lavender scented water, and an hour spent by myself in a steamy coffee shop, with only The Faber
Happiness is walking down the road blissfully unaware that you are leaving a trail of cheese, ham and hummous behind you due to a hole in the bottom of a rather useless carrier
Happiness is scrumptious little primulas on your doorstep, double episodes of Coronation Street and a cup of rosehip
Happiness is your little boy’s face when he spots you after a long day at nursery. The way he twirls your hair with his finger when he’s drinking his milk , calls Justin Timberlake, Justin Saxophone and loves your Mum and Dad (he’s my best mate isn’t he Mummy?) to bits…
Happiness is a new nightie. Black with white lace and slinky straps because you may as well feel beautiful all by yourself. It is marmite flavoured rice cakes and piles of Sunday papers still waiting to be read. Happiness is your latest MTV obsession- Maximo Parks latest single and half an hour lying on your bed being serenaded by Frank Sinatra in his finest hour. It is a weekend at a wedding in March to look forward to and the delivery of your latest Ebay treasures.
Happiness is old friends for old friends sake. Comfort in the company of somebody you understand and mustard and black pepper digestives with the strongest cheese you can find. It is your 9.30 glass of wine and the pink and white flock
It is all of these things. It is knowing that you are allowed to be happy right here, right now and letting yourself be. It is forgetting what isn’t, being grateful for what is and keeping your dreams alive.
Happiness is today and I swear there isn’t a goat playing the violin in sight. More’s the pity…