Thursday, 27 November 2008
I was walking very briskly through the arctic winds last night when I took refuge in a favourite gift shop. You know the kind of place where you simple shouldn't go if you are feeling in the slightest bit credit crunched because you will want countless things; candles, shower gels, cashmere eyes masks, whole recipe books devoted to marmite, all those non essential items that feel far more needed than a pint of milk.
I happened upon a lovely little ray of sunshine in the form of the hardbacked, crisp paged, The Book of Idle Pleasures.
The book is a collection of one hundred small pleasures to cherish that we perhaps forget about. I was actually already in a good enough mood but this touched me somehow and did exactly what it says it wants to; reminds you of the little things that make life better. It's witty, it's fun, it's poignant and it's very high up on my wish list! for this is really the sort of thing you should be given rather than give yourself.
Really I think knowing the pleasure of kicking leaves, waiting for tea to brew and napping is the beginning of wisdom.
When books are bliss there is barely anything so good.