Category: Humour
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Joys of warmth and cold . . .
Awaking early this morning to -4ºC, and a heavy frost that has the snowdrops sagging, it was such a joy to start the wood fire in our cosy room, the room we call the Craft Room, and to enjoy the warmth. Our heat pumps are struggling, but we have hunkered down next to the fire…
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Bells of joy . . .
It’s been a bit breezy these past few days, here in the GlenKens, so we’ve been enjoying the wind chimes rather a lot. Compared with our previous life high up on a fellside of the bleak and blustery North Pennines, of course, these southwest Scotland zephyrs are like balm to the resting soul. I managed…
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An opportunistic dawn
So I was out in my dressing gown at 7am yesterday morning, dropping a tray of cat litter into the bin before the dustmen arrived, and therefore I managed to catch a glorious sunrise which did indeed presage a brilliantly sunshiny day. But I’d not have seen it if it weren’t for the cat. How…
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When a gate is not an entrance but a barrier . . .
The strong steel gate in our new-to-us driveway has served primarily as a barrier, to keep the friendly family dogs safely within the garden, over the past year. But it’s also been a barrier, or at least a huge hindrance even when fully open, to convenient entrance and egress by our ancient motorhome, Harry Hymer. And therein…
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A handy stake . . .
So, in much the same way as I trundled along down the High Street of New Galloway back in March with a For Sale sign on my back, shifting it from our new home to the small cottage we were putting up for sale, this past Friday I lifted that very sign from Spring Cottage…
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The joy of surprise . . .
I’m not a great fan of surprises. I feel confused by them, not sure how to react. But when I’m somehow complicit in the surprise, the dénouement can bring great joy. So it was yesterday. We thought we’d see what all the work has been about, down at the Ken Bridge, where we’d seen diggers…
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Sometimes, rarely, politics delights . . .
Whether it’s just a case of schadenfreude, or relief that a particularly excruciating period of politics is over, sometimes the demise of a charlatan is a good enough excuse to indulge in a bit of spontaneous joy. In one of our writing group tasks, this week, we’re charged to investigate the clerihew, so-called because of…
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A single flower . . .
Sometimes the beauty of a single, solitary bloom is enough to take your breath away. This lonely tulip in our new-to-us garden was one such. I’m reminded of the William Blake poem, Auguries of Innocence, of which I suspect most of us are aware only of the first quatrain: To see the world in a…
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The delight, and relief, of humour
A couple years ago, I attempted to write a humorous poem. I’d have to say, I’m not renowned as a comic turn, though I have experienced a few exalted moments of shared laughter at my own expense, during our folk club days. I finessed and titivated my poetic efforts, as helped by friendly members of…
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When snow is light, fluffy, pretty . . .
The snowfall was off and on last night, and the flakes began to fall again late this morning. It’ll put folks off the resumed LING Lunch, perhaps, but for those of us who know a bit more about the trials and tribulations of snow, this soft and gentle fall could only be pretty and pleasing.…
Roads to Joy 