Children are wonderful aren't they?
We spend all their developing years teaching them to share, with varied results.
Blossom is sharing these days.
I'm the lucky recipient of her flu today.
Obviously my almost 20yo breath-of-sunshine-in-my-life daughter felt she could not keep this all to herself. Oh joy.
So I'm trying to get done all that needs to be done in the next few hours so that I can head back to my comfy bed and wallow in things that make me remember how great life will be once this virus has done it's best and departed from me searching for healthier folk to waylay.
Fortunately, my throat is being soothed by banana, blueberry, honey and almond milk smoothies...
...and my heart is comforted by the musings of my favourite domestic author, Jane Brocket.
As you can see, it's a well loved and "well-read/re-read/re-read/re-read again" book, having kept me company now for almost eight years since I spied my friend Ruth's copy at my friend Pam's house, and drowned in it's delighted-ness...
I'm reading the chapter on luxuries at the moment.
Let me share a little of what Jane has written on page 178...
"It helps to have a state of mind that can turn even the smallest indulgence into a luxury. This means looking positively at your life - considering not what you want to have, but what you can, or already, have. It means deciding for yourself what you class as luxury and not following the media's overblown ideas. Couture dresses, private jets, huge yachts and large gems are very wonderful, I'm sure, but doesn't the fact that only a handful of women in the world can afford them strike you as ridiculous? Far better to treat yourself to a couple of skeins of lovely yarn, afternoon tea and a film, a bright bunch of roses, or a small, but perfectly formed box of chocolates."
I pondered her thoughts, then asked myself what constitutes 'luxury' to me.
You know, it's very simple things, really.
Like painting my toenails: I don't often take the time to soak my feet, or preen and primp them. But I did yesterday. And I felt all warm and fuzzy inside, and couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I padded barefoot backward and forward across our wooden floors...
What's your simple luxury? I'd love to know. We can chat in the comments while I'm laid low with my not-so-popular-friend Mr Lurgy.
(but not too close a hug 'cause I'm really not in a sharing of the flu mood - despite what I taught my children)