nunoncastors

…I have of late—but wherefore
I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of
exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my
disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to
me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy,
the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament,
this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why,
it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent
congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man!
How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties,
in form and moving how express and admirable,
in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man
delights not me: no, nor woman neither, though by
your smiling you seem to say so.

Hamlet: Act II, Scene II

And, indeed, their smiling would be correct. Much as I love Shakespeare – especially the line here about a ‘majestical roof fretted with golden fire – I am currently a very happy man and not at all preoccupied with mortality and death as was poor Hamlet. Those who know me well will appreciate how novel this situation is; I’ve never been a man of highs and lows, rather one of perpetual troughs sparsely seeded with occasional weals of joy, yet currently I sit atop a mountain of cheeriness that soon, I fear, will see me become insufferable.

There is, as you may well have observed in entrails and read in portents both subtle and sly, a reason for this change in demeanour. Nothing grand you understand, far from it, it was as simple as being reminded of just how lucky I am.

Schmaltzy, huh?

Regardless, having had a surprisingly lovely family holiday over the past week – I spent the days journeying across Yorkshire on my bicycle, discovering hidden gems and biding my time in secret places – the weekend was spent in the company of friends. Three friends actually, a sizeable portion of those I consider to be close and, you know what, I’ve seldom been happier.

It is perhaps a trite observation that I make, that day to day people aren’t aware of how fortunate they are to have the things that they do, little things really, but sitting in a café on Scarborough seafront, happily munching my way through a portion of fish and chips, I was suddenly aware of how happy chance and providence have lumbered me with people who are, to be frank, wonderful.

There, I’ve said it. And may I turn blue if it isn’t so.