Category: Nebulous Items

    One of the things people keep telling me is to treasure this period of time when Sir Thwacksalot is all tiny and portable and cuddly in a way not unlike a sack full of eels on speed. Because fresh babies are apparently the best babies. They don’t talk back, they don’t climb your…

  I kind of wish I had started a pattern of having themes inserted into the titles of these posts, as a number of rather thinky thoughts about all things tangentially related to happiness have been dredged up in posts over the past few weeks but no one seeing the subject line would be the…

  Last night was the Eurovision Song Contest. Or at least that’s what it was called when I first heard of it, 20-odd years ago. It might just be Eurovision now. It’s still weird enough to make me feel quite foreign when watching it. Those kooky Europeans. A lot of the acts were purely formulaic…

  I feel weird having a few Thwack related happy days, as if nothing else is worth noting or celebrating. It’s all part of the grand plan, I must note: His casual acceptance of weird food (or rather, live rotaviruses) means we may not have to suffer the indignity of a kid who only eats…

In case you were worried, no, this isn’t turning into a mommy/mummy blog. It’s still what is was before, a confused collection of writings by someone outside of her indigenous realm, but with a lot less Chinese food and international travel, and with the added touch of young Sir Thwacklemore as a shiny new housemate. We’re…

  I’ve got an annoying tummy bug today, as does Sir Thwacksalot— up all freaking night— so I’ll keep this one brief. I need a cup of peppermint tea and a lazy duvet day. It’s a real shame I’ve decided to stop eating cheese and cake this month. It’s that kind of day. Day 18’s…

  Yesterday was kind of crap, I have to admit. Trying to find a shiny, happy spot was tricky. I didn’t want to fake it by, say, taking a picture of the really lovely, colourful, fragrant cauliflower rice I made for dinner and saying, wow, this was awesome. It was nice. It was fine. Most…

  Welcome to the halfway point of my slightly haphazard happiness project. The blog version anyway. The official one is 100 days but oh, god, you really don’t want 100 consecutive days of me blathering away about 1. food or 2. young Thwack and his variable independence or 3. my intermittently frustrated wanderlust. I’ll probably…

It wasn’t specifically these flowers that made me happy. They were an aspect of it, but only that. I don’t have a photo of the overarching thing that did it. It was a number of concurrent factors: a lovely, bright, blue skied day; a funky little bare-bones bright red Nissan Micra borrowed for 24 hours…

  So I’m walking home with heavy grocery bags in each hand, a slack Thwack in his sack on my chest and a shoulder bag draped across him when I’m stopped by a little old lady who notes I am carrying quite a burden, did I need a hand? I was fine, but thanks. How…

  Is it okay to repeatedly use food and cooking as my noted moment of happiness? Admittedly, whatever I make tends to be intertwined with a lot of other factors so it’s not such a one-note wonder as it initially seems. The frittata and the mustard were so much more than just a frittata and a…

Yesterday, we were in the city centre, running errands. Whilst M. was off sorting out his things, I went to the market. I really like the fact that Leicester has a proper working outdoor covered market, the kind that isn’t for tourists (hell, Leicester isn’t really for tourists, except maybe fans of Richard III or…