Thirteen Reasons to be Pleased with Yesterday

It was a totally ordinary day, no invitations, no special events, no lottery win, nothing to get excited over. A really slow day. I didn't even speak to anyone apart from Beloved,  except to exchange greetings.There is this Thursday Thirteen meme, which I've only done once before.  Kelly is bustling round the house vacuuming this morning, so I've escaped into my study. As I was sitting thinking about a possible blogpost the meme came into my mind and I was wondering if I could find thirteen pleasant things to write about.

One

I remembered a cousin's birthday just in time to send her a birthday card. This is not at all to be taken for granted; I forget birthdays and other special days more often than not. Last week I forgot the birthday of a really good friend. If somebody's birthday comes round before I turn the page on my perpetual birthday calendar  - the numbers run consecutively from one to 30 or 31, without days or weeks - that's it,  I have to grovel in abject apology.

Two

Benno and I went for a walk in the Nature Reserve. The sunlight on the frozen lake accentuated the reed bed fringe and the reflection of the sky turned the water a deep blue instead of the usual muddy grey.

Three

I watched a duck slide halfway across the lake before giving up. and disappearing in he reeds. She gave me an idea for a poem, most of which I remembered until I got home.

Four

On the way out I walked through a willow thicket and saw that the pussy willow buds were beginning to burst into life; against the background of blue sky they looked as if  the stems had small lights attached to them. Cat's eyes, maybe?

Five

In the afternoon I started to write an article for the local paper on how we had come to live in Valley's End. It reminded me of happy times and all the good reasons why we are still here. The article flowed easily and I shall have it finished before the deadline.

Six

I love the  Sherlock Holmes series filmed in the 1980s, with the inimitable Jeremy Brett as Sherlock and the craggy faced Eric Porter as Prof. Moriarty.  All the actors in the films outdo each other in hamming or camping it up; I can't get enough of Sherlock's twitchy lips or Moriarty's evil eyebrows, not to mention Dr. Watson's sweet and utterly unbelievable devotion to Sherlock. An hour and a bit well-spent and wholly enjoyable, particularly because

Seven

I finished off the remains of last Christmas' marzipan while watching. Germans eat Lübecker Marzipan at Christmas. I can't get it in England at any other time of year so I always buy an extra loaf or two to last throughout winter. It's a very sweet, almondy, confection, not really very good for dental health or my hips. Being good can be so boring!

Eight

I try to read at least one poem every day, usually more. Yesterday I opened a poetry book on the lines "Dull, dull, hungry cloth-head dullard!Each day I'm dull ......." (A Pre-Breakfast Rant by Andrew Greig) and realised that, for once, I did not feel like that myself. Not hungry because I'd eaten marzipan loaf and not dull because I'd been for a walk in the bracing cold.

Nine

The weather is set to remain cold for the weekend; We feed a lot of birds and the supply of bird food was running low. We split up to shop in different shops and both came back to the car with bags of seeds and nuts. The birds will be happy and watching them perform on the bird table makes me happy. 

Ergo: another tick on the pleasure chart. I want you to believe that there were clouds of birds, but the minute I opened the window to take their photo they all flew off. It was too cold to stand in the open window for long, so you'll have to imagine a dozen and a half of tits, chaffinches, sparrows, bramblings, a pair of nuthatches, some greenfinches and a great bullying blackbird. 

Ten

The sun shone all day, a very rare occurrence in our narrow valley. Clouds and mist hang low and cling to the sides of the hills on both sides of the river, leaving us struggling under a dirty grey blanket for weeks on end.

Eleven

I finally opened "The Help", which one of my gentlemen friends gave me to read. Three very nice gentlemen insist on improving my mind by bringing me books to read, independently of each other. Beloved is not jealous at all, in fact, he feels flattered at the cerebral attention other men pay his wife. I am left with the trouble of reading the books because all three gentlemen like to hear my opinion afterwards. "The Help" appears to be a fairly easy read. Although I have only reached page 60, I get the impression that it will be whites who solve the 'colour' question. I hope not.

Twelve

It was a great pleasure to open my blog and find sixty lovely people had replied to the post about flattery, leaving very appreciative comments. (It's 64 now) Thank you very much, what would I do without you. (Probably not indulge in spending quite so much of my free time over my blog, that's what). I am very grateful.

Thirteen

Absolutely scraping the barrel now, all I can offer at number 13 is that I am very glad to have found 12 reasons to make yesterday pleasant and that I now have some cobbled-together material for this post. It's not as easy as I thought to come up with a list of thirteen anythings; complaining would probably  come more naturally.

I have never understood . . . . .

Scrabbling around in my currently moribund brain for a blogging topic I came across my friend  Tabor's post of today, which loosely refers to Thursday 13, a collection of themed items to fill a blank spot on a blog. I may not make it to the full 13, but there are some questions that have been puzzling me for ever:

I have never understood, why

    the ordinary Tom, Dick and Harriet never connect our need for feverish consumption of goods, our mad   use of oil, gas, food, water, and many other of earth's finite resources, with the destruction of our planet? We complain about fuel prices, we eat imported food, we buy flowers grown on another continent, we travel at the drop of a hat, for leisure, pleasure, business and no particular reason at all,  we live in air-conditioned houses, we use water like it's going out of fashion, we buy, and soon discard, all sorts of consumer goods without a second thought.

Yet we all profess to be seriously concerned about the life expectancy of planet earth and the human race with it.

o-o-o-o

    some people see all the evil in their neighbour's yard but never in their own? What causes these blind spots? Self-righteousness? Why has no one invented spectacles for clear thinking? There'll soon be 3-D TVs, why are there no vision-surround viewfinders for the human conscience?

o-o-o-o

    Benno wags his tail when I go to the bread bin?

o-o-o-o

    the British drink while standing up? It's so much less safe to fall down in a drunken heap from a great height than simply to collapse, head first, into the ashtray on the table.

o-o-o-o

    love and lust disappear after the first three years of togetherness? Love may last, but why does this mad first flush, this glorious, breathless, unsuitably demonstrative state of being, this embarrassing, hand-holding, weak-kneed, (stop it, Friko!) stomach-churning, physical need for the object of one's lust turn into a mild, "ok then", "what, again ?",  "I'd rather have a cup of tea", sort of togetherness?

o-o-o-o

    Americans think that I must know their cousin Elliot in Edinburgh because I live in the UK?

o-o-o-o

    some  religions  consider randomly selected foods to be taboo and inherently sinful, and alcoholic drink to be the devil's brew. Pork, beef, shellfish, game, rabbit and many more are forbidden in at least one religion somewhere in the world. Even coffee and tea and other stimulants do not escape prohibition somewhere. Where's the logic in that?

o-o-o-o

    some people risk their lives and the lives of others in the selfish pursuit of dangerous adventures, like the solo circumnavigation of  the globe in a cockle shell, or climbing hazardous mountains in inclement weather and totally unsuitable clothing. Whoever feels drawn to such heroics should understand that any rescue attempts when things go wrong, as they frequently do, will not be undertaken when others have to risk their life to carry them out. At the very least, the rescued should bear the full costs of the rescue mission which too often depends on voluntary contributions.

o-o-o-o

    so many plants self-seed profusely but never come true from seed. If it grows out of your seed, it looks like you, right? Wrong.

o-o-o-o

    there is at least one colourful sock which sneaks into a white wash and turns everything a lurid orange.

Why has no one invented a simple tool to detect an alien presence in the laundry basket before the washing machine is loaded.

o-o-o-o

    there are people for whom home is the last place they want to be. I know them, they spend as little time as possible there. Are they afraid they might meet themselves there?

o-o-o-o

    politicians, no matter how idealistic and honest they start out - there are some - succumb to the general malaise of subterfuge, evasion, wishful thinking and ignoring the electorate's wishes the moment they become part of the political machine. Very soon expediency becomes the watchword.

o-o-o-o

and finally,

    there are so many people who simply don't see the beauty of the world surrounding us, the kindness and generosity of the average person, the friendliness of our neighbour, the willingness to help, the smiles and the open arms reaching out to us.  Why gratitude for the small gifts we receive daily is usually so far from our thoughts, why complaints and moans come far more easily than simple thankyous; why we don't realise that the pace of modern life, the frantic pursuit of happiness, by which we too often mean worldly goods,  is not conducive to bringing us peace of mind and appreciation of simple pleasures.