Open Writing

Happiness - that elusive, perishable, sought after state – is what? Until last week for most of us it was probably a warm television on a miserably cold night. But in one day happiness suddenly became sun shaped.

Yes – whether it shines again or not, for one whole idyllic morning our porch was covered in sunshine. The birds were peering in short-sightedly through the dusty windows, the spiders were preparing for a hasty house move as I reached for the long brush and I daringly unfastened the top button on my suede jacket. Life seemed to be perking up again. That was Tuesday – on Wednesday it rained again.

But happiness means different things to different people. Wordsworth saw it in daffodils, Da Vinci captured it in a woman’s smile. Quentin Crisp is content in his uncleaned flat, ‘Dust isn’t noticeable after a year or two.’ Erin Pizzey, battered wife protector, has found new release in not ironing clothes anymore. She believes that creases fall out as you wear them. Liz Taylor, once ecstatic with diamonds, finds she is now happier with the money. Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity means little to me but I love his rules for living, he believed in doing what he wanted when he wanted.

This morning I achieved something that would have driven me wild with triumph in my schooldays, but now only causes me pain. I longed to be the owner of a black eye or burst nose, great status symbols in our area. These assets escaped me until today. I was innocently removing a sweater when a 2ins long brass point attached to the end of a drawstring, whipped agonisingly up my nose and stuck there until I found the courage to dislodge it. What a sad sight – blood gushing everywhere and no witnesses. I ran hopefully next door with the rich, red liquid flowing impressively – but they were out. With no visual evidence my tender beak won’t even evoke a second glance when the family arrives home.

When we were newlyweds happiness was reading the newspapers in bed on Sunday mornings. Now I’m lucky to see them before Monday. But time alters one’s desires - nowadays it doesn’t take much to lift my spirits. Three magic words from my dentist ‘nothing to do,’ a cottage trip which promises to take our volatile adolescent to Wales for five days or 120 hours sounds longer, a ‘nothing to pay’ smile from our librarian – simple pleasures often bring the most satisfaction.

Last Saturday all members of our household were basking in deep-seated elation for at least an hour. ‘I feel almost carefree,’ I cooed to hubby. ‘At last I can sleep,’ sighed one daughter. We sat in our armchairs and breathed deeply with no groping under cushions and no door or drawer slamming. For forty minutes at least we were all on beaming terms with each other. The reason? Our daughter’s homework assignment had been found at last after an exhausting search that had been performed on a twice-nightly basis for weeks. The usual places; bread-bin, piano, sock drawer, brought nothing. Eventually, along with other missing treasure, two library books and a homework diary, it was finally unearthed from under son’s bed. Our unknown trespasser strikes again!

The end of winter and herald of spring can leave one feeling as ravaged as the countryside looks. This is my signal to reach for the Balm wine recipe. My gran’s ever-present hip flask of rum, which she laughingly referred to as her ‘medicine,’ when she laced her cups of tea with it, kept her fortified for ninety-three years.

Do you ever indulge in the luxury of your own amusement at your own pace? Think about it – then do it. I did the other day. When everyone had left for school and work, I slipped back to bed for one glorious illicit hour on my own. The luxurious bliss of it!

But perhaps the ancient philosophy of Boethisus sums it all up most sagaciously: ‘Nothing is miserable unless you think it so; conversely every lot is happy if you are content with it.’

Yes - I’ll drink to that.