I kind of wish I had started a pattern of having themes inserted into the titles of these posts, as a number of rather thinky thoughts about all things tangentially related to happiness have been dredged up in posts over the past few weeks …

  Last night was the Eurovision Song Contest. Or at least that’s what it was called when I first heard of it, 20-odd years ago. It might just be Eurovision now. It’s still weird enough to make me feel quite foreign when watching it. Those …

  I feel weird having a few Thwack related happy days, as if nothing else is worth noting or celebrating. It’s all part of the grand plan, I must note: His casual acceptance of weird food (or rather, live rotaviruses) means we may not have …

In case you were worried, no, this isn’t turning into a mommy/mummy blog. It’s still what is was before, a confused collection of writings by someone outside of her indigenous realm, but with a lot less Chinese food and international travel, and with the added touch …

  I’ve got an annoying tummy bug today, as does Sir Thwacksalot— up all freaking night— so I’ll keep this one brief. I need a cup of peppermint tea and a lazy duvet day. It’s a real shame I’ve decided to stop eating cheese and …

  Yesterday was kind of crap, I have to admit. Trying to find a shiny, happy spot was tricky. I didn’t want to fake it by, say, taking a picture of the really lovely, colourful, fragrant cauliflower rice I made for dinner and saying, wow, …

  Welcome to the halfway point of my slightly haphazard happiness project. The blog version anyway. The official one is 100 days but oh, god, you really don’t want 100 consecutive days of me blathering away about 1. food or 2. young Thwack and his …

It wasn’t specifically these flowers that made me happy. They were an aspect of it, but only that. I don’t have a photo of the overarching thing that did it. It was a number of concurrent factors: a lovely, bright, blue skied day; a funky …

  So I’m walking home with heavy grocery bags in each hand, a slack Thwack in his sack on my chest and a shoulder bag draped across him when I’m stopped by a little old lady who notes I am carrying quite a burden, did …

  Is it okay to repeatedly use food and cooking as my noted moment of happiness? Admittedly, whatever I make tends to be intertwined with a lot of other factors so it’s not such a one-note wonder as it initially seems. The frittata and the mustard …

Yesterday, we were in the city centre, running errands. Whilst M. was off sorting out his things, I went to the market. I really like the fact that Leicester has a proper working outdoor covered market, the kind that isn’t for tourists (hell, Leicester isn’t …

    This is a bit of an odd one. We were out walking, heading from one errand to the next, sated from our minimalist picnic in the park (salade Nicoise in reused takeaway containers and plastic forks), and strolling down London Road into town …