Doddlemum posted one of her fabby sketches (you do follow her, right don’t you? If not go right over there now and have a look) and I suddenly realised that right here, right now being an adult is rather short on the simple pleasures.
Life is all caught up in rushing around, in trying to get everything done, in sprinting just to keep up.
And I look back to the times before babies and the simple pleasures and wonder where they have gone.
What about the joys of a hot bath and a cold glass of white wine? I can’t remember the last time I managed a bath without someone chucking a whole pile of plastic tat in with me or insisting that they help wash my hair.
Or just sitting in my favourite armchair and reading. Without interruptions.
What about the joys of climbing trees?
Or playing Pooh sticks?
Or rolling down a hill?
What about the happiness that comes from walking in the woods kicking leaves?
Or splashing in a puddle?
Or even the simple pleasure of heading to the pub for a quiet, unrushed drink of an evening and a proper natter? We used to do that and it was lovely and I don’t think we’ve done that since I can remember.
Seems to me that right here, right now, being grown up means having a lot less fun than a toddler and I’m not sure that’s the way I want things to be.
I need to reclaim the fun and find where its been squeezed out of my life.
Because right here, right now, it feels as if the fun has been squeezed out by everything else.
I don’t find myself laughing terribly often. In fact I don’t think I laugh very much at all. I find myself rather too often in a grey, dull mood, oppressed by everything and everybody.
So how on earth do I go about doing that?
Please can someone tell me where the fun is hiding?
Or tell it to come over here and find me.