I’m in the pattern of writing, but I’ve completed those 31 days. Time for a new theme.
In a month where it’s dark earlier and earlier, where it can be a rather grim-faced downhill-til-Christmas-and-don’t-spend-any-extra-money, I thought it might be nice to celebrate the small things that bring a smile, but don’t break the bank.
It’s not a frugality post, as such, though I can do them. Half-Scots, half-Yorkshire, it’s a recipe for being a miser, really. I might come back to that at some point.
But various posts I’ve been reading are around slowing down, and noticing what’s around us. Or being in the moment in our days, noticing the little things.
So, here’s to a set of posts on small delights: a box of delights, if you will. Which takes us nicely through to the start of Advent, and a whole new set of stories, perhaps.
First item in the box of delights:
1. Being the first to open things.
Went to work. Opened jar of coffee. Seal still on jar of coffee. Broke seal on coffee jar…feeling better already. It’s not just the smell of coffee wafting through, it’s the satisfying tearing noise on the top of a coffee jar. Or the crinkly sound, if it’s a metallic top, and you’re trying to tear it off in one go.
Lest this seem to exclude the under-caffeinated, the same can be done with many other containers. First to open a jar of jam? Nice slightly metallic clunk there.
First to open a jar of set honey? You get the white scrapings on the top, before revealing the darker colour underneath. (This may say more about a childhood where honey was Gales’ honey, and that was that. Still enjoyable though.)
First to open a bottle of sherry? Ahh. In fact, you can spend a couple of minutes just tilting the bottle back and forth, listening to that wonderfully musical glug. Then common sense sets in, and you fetch a glass. Or a pan…if you’re cooking, of course.
There is something great about opening everyday things for the first time. Maybe it’s an ‘everyday’ kind of Christmas present. Maybe it’s the greediness in getting first go. Maybe it’s the sense of treasures in store, all ready for us, and we’re the first to choose.
And maybe it’s just part of that set of little everyday sounds that promises comfort, in some form or other. In chilly weather, that seems ever more attractive. But as part of the soundtrack to our lives, small happy sounds of opening jars are going in my box of delights.