LOOK FOR SMALL PLEASURES...

On Sunday evening I lay in bed, listening, as I always do, to David Jacob's weekly programme of 'Our Kind of music'  on BBC radio 2, 11.pm to midnight. His smooth, beautifully modulated voice with it's marvellously British intonation introduces the Great American  Songbook. Seldom does he play a song I do not know, but this Sunday night he did.  Now usually, when I hear or think of something that I want or need to remember, I must write it down...there and then, or it is gone for good. But no paper or pen were to hand and so I made a supreme  effort to remember, and using visuals and constant repetition it was still there the next morning. And it is still in my head now, Wednesday evening, and must be stilled.

The Song comes from a Broadway Production of Ben Franklin In Paris   and the singers were Robert Preston and Ulla Sallert. It is a ballad, not a thumping show-stopper,but sweetly sung  lyrics with a  simple message. Don't ask for too much, be happy with small pleasures. And that message resonated with me to an extent that had me bothered.

Then I remembered.
Sometime last week I read a post that had been suggested by Hilary in her Post of the Week spot. It was entitled Humour and I urge everyone to go over there and watch the video.
You will find it here.
http://www.thefiftyfactor.com/2010/12/humor.html

I'll not spoil the surprise - it starts slowly and then...

It started me athinking.
Where is the humour in old age?

A serious question seeing how it's going to happen to all of you should you live long enough.

I thought long and hard and realised that there is not a great deal to laugh about in old age..
We ache.
We're shorter.
Invisible most of the time.
Bits of us are metal.
Or porcelain.
Too many of our sentences begin with 'when I was young'.

And so on...

And I realised that my sub-conscious mind had been playing with the subject, and the song had given me the answer:-

Look for SMALL PLEASURES.

For example....

Someone new has climbed into JP's skin...someone who does not argue every point. When he said, last Friday, 'It's warmer today' and I replied-[because I'm always looking to have the last word and thus starting a great debate that ends with both of us stomping off in different directions] 'It isn't warmer it is just less cold' he smiled, shrugged that Gallic shrug and went off whistling. Small pleasure.

When I saw that Downton Abbey was being repeated over the Christmas week and I would be able to see the final episode which I had deleted...Small pleasure.

Waking up, stretching, and nothing hurts. Small pleasure.

Completing the Alpha puzzle in less than the given time. Small pleasure.

And the greatest humour in old age is in the fact that 'We Got Here' we can see the funny side,and it's coming to all of you.