The Magic Faraway Tree

Enid Blyton was pretty much all there was when I was a nipper. It was, in fact, a 'Noddy' Book that taught me to read when I was three years old. I wish I knew how, but it was so far away in time, and I so young... . Our Enid led a very alternative lifestyle, impressivily raunchy for a respected children's author, which was so excellently portrayed by Helen Bohham-Carter in an eponymous TV series a few years back. But that's another story, for another day.

A long-time favourite of mine was, 'The Magic Faraway Tree'. It wasn't that well-written, or exciting: thankfully children's authors today have well-rounded characters and intriguing plots. Take it from me, 'The Magic Faraway Tree' has neither. It does, however, have a wonderful plot device. Periodically, there would appear amidst the cloud-strewn branches at the top of the tree, a completely new and exotic world. 'Topsey-Turveylamd' for example where you were expected to walk around on your head. Fantastic.

"What?" You may be asking, "Brings Topsey-Turveyland to mind?" I am about to tell you, so keep reading. There is, at the bar at the top of this page, a button to press labelled, 'Next Blog'. Occasionally! I spend a happy few minutes scolling through Blogland to get a taste of what's out there. I am perpetually astonished, until I hit an unrelentingly, say,  Portuguese, section,  which leaves me mystified and calls a halt to my surfing. 

At every fresh press, a new world opens, a new life revealed. 

I like to think that some of my far-flung readership hits upon this blog by accident, and then hangs around a while. You're welcome. Leave me a message and I'll come and visit you! 

What always pulls me up short, are the abandoned blogs. I see photos of new-borns who are now in kindergarten (or High School!) and I get interested in individuals who were blogcasting back in 2003, but have now  vanished without trace. I feel a little cheated. I am thankful when someone says, "I'm off.Goodbye and thanks for all the hits." The rest,  leave me a little saddened. Did Rollo die? Did Little Wumpkins and Soppy Sally  get divorced? We'll never know, and the voyeur in me feets cheated. 

I guess every blog has a sell-by date, and, inevitably, this one will end one day. But not today! Here are some photos to prove the point. I am on holiday in Washington State, where every trip out has been rather like visiting a new land at the top of The Faraway Tree. See for yourself:

Extracting Meaning Is Like Pulling Teeth

No, it's not. I have told you before, somewhere, possibly on Twitter, that NOTHING is like pulling teeth, and I know this, having recently lost a wisdom tooth, and with it, no doubt a little wisdom. The HUGE needle ... No, it's too painful to recall, although, paradoxically, virtually painLESS these days. 

Whilst sitting here in Redmond pondering what'll happen to the Union Flag when we lose the blue bits, and how  UKIP might respond when, no longer holding the WHOLE island, we have to become 'Lesser Britain', I have been contemplating The Science of Happiness and the Meaning Of Life. Over a cup of tea. Darlene gets in British tea, which as eny fule no, is the sweepings off the floor in the Tea Room, but there you are, it came with cards when I was six, and I love it. 

Have I come to any conclusions? Well, yes. Life has no meaning, but that's never going to work, so we have to invent one. This is a glorious purpose and I am spending a lot of time doing it. 

I am spending almost as much time marvelling at the meanings my fellow inhabitants of this precious blue dot ascribe to their amazing  existance. I'm not going into any great detail because I am in a good mood today, and have no wish to offend, but really, if you're engaging in something that doesn't bring you SOME sort of satisfaction, you really ought to stop it. Or if you're hurting yourself, or someone else, you oght to stop that too. 

I have given serious thought to becoming a Bhuddist, but there are some serious obstacles. 'Steak' and 'not being able to sit still' being two that spring immediately to mind, unfortunately, as I can't see that either reflect well on my spirituality. But there you are, what you read is what you get. 

I am going to pass you on to Tim Minchin now, because he is funny and young, and deserves to be heard: I love him. ( Like a son, Ray. :) ) 

This isn't a live link, but .. . Go on, paste it! It's worth the effort: 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoEezZD71sc 

How To Write A Poem

Gotcha! This blogpost is not about how to write a poem, because I don't know how. Poems just happen. This one, for example, isn't written yet . It's sitting in an ante-room, egging me on, "Come on!" It's saying, "You can do this!" 

It's just an image at the moment of a door. It's closed, it has the word, "KNOCK" deeply etched into it's surface, and it is surrounded on every side by a beautiful day. I was struck by this, when I first saw it, because you can walk all the way round the door and still be where you are. No walls, no ceilings, just a door in it's frame,  standing there, waiting. On the top of a hill. Say, Robinswood Hill. 

Now you can see what a cheat I am. As a poet I shouldn't have used the turgid and lengthy convention of prose to show you the door. You may assume that I did  because a description of the door matters, but not to the poem. Here goes:

OK God

Not sure about this.

This is seriously weird. I know

You know me, and the temptation to 

KNOCK!!! 

Is going to be irresistable. 

But first, I want to make something clear.

I am naked. 

BUT

I am not ashamed. 

I notice the serpent's keeping his distance:

"Don't mess with me mate,

I've got  your  number." 

No, God, Not You!

I know nothing  of YOU

If it's not love and all those things

Lovely things.

Here goes ... 

The Science Of Happiness

I am a phenomenally happy person. I knew this before I enrolled on this EdX course from Berkely. I guess I wanted to know WHY, as that's the way I am.

50% Genetics! My smiling and unflappable father springs immediately to mind. Thanks, Dad! 

10% Circumstances. Yup. I am comfortably off, and I am content.

40% Social Connection. I can do that! Though being an introvert, I have to work on it. The upside is, I don't need a LOT of people around me to MAKE  it work. 

What I'm really about here, is finding something to do with the ungodly hours I acquire, compliments of jetlag. It's 0630 here in the beautiful State of Washington, and I have been awake since four-fifteen. 

I completed Week One of the EdX course, took the quiz, which I did OK on, and wrote up my Three Good Things Happiness Exercise, which was to record in detail just that. Breakfast with Darlene and Carol, walking the dogs in Idylwood Park on the shore of Lake Sammamish, and the sense of achivement at getting my homework in on time, covered it for yesterday. I don't know what today will bring, but whatever it does,  I suspect I shall look upon all I have made, iand declare it GOOD. 

The Ice Cream Maker

Seven years ago, I thought, I MUST HAVE AN ICE-CREAM MAKER! I scoured the shop-sites for the best deal, and bought a shiny new Kenwood. I admired it, read the directions, invested in the cream and etc., and fired it off. Twice. 

It now sits at the back of a cupboard as a permanent reminder that the pleasure of acquisition is an extraordinarily fleeting one, and that Ben and Jerry offer much easier alternatives, frequently at half the price.  

I write this as a lesson to you on the futility of seeking pleasure in things, and an illustratiin as to why "Circumstances" - in this case having enough free money to spend on non-essentials- comes in at only 10%. 

Far more effective happy- generators are, gratitude, Random Acts of Kindness, the company of good friends, and the support of family. To my friends and family I have two things to say: (apart from soppy things, like, "I love you")

1. Don't  buy me any more stuff.

2. Want an ice-cream maker?