The last time we were home in Dublin, my sister whipped out her polaroid camera and demanded that we pose for a photograph. We were lounging on the sofa in the sitting room, me with my feet up on the furniture like the naughty I am and He Who Only... drinking a cup of tea. I looked up at him to see if he was posing properly or making a face, the latter of which is what his usual reaction to a camera (or any kind of third party attention) seems to be. My sister snapped.
Later that day, I couldn't stop staring at the picture. My other sister caught me staring at it and sighed "ah, another perfect moment captured forever". And as moments go, it's not half bad. I've bought a picture frame that's basically just a block of glass in which to keep it, and it sits, as if frozen in ice, in front of my beautiful new digital radio, pride of place in my bedroom.
It's not often you're aware of your perfect moments until they've passed you by. You'll be sitting at work one day and thinking back on the last day, week, month or year and suddenly something will spring to mind and you'll find yourself grinning for no reason and thinking about how wonderful that moment was, how magical or how funny or how wreckless or how stupid, but just how great it was to be there, right there in that moment.
I had one of them last night, a moment of clarity where you realise that everything is in the absolute right place, everything for once, just for that bright shining moment, was well in the world and I had nothing else to ask for. We were sitting in the dark in my bedroom, watching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid being played haltingly and with quite bad resolution on the face of my laptop. I was lying down, He Who Only... was sitting up, and we were both sucking on sweets Mrs Bishop had sent for through the post. A big fight broke out in the film and I started boxing along in time with the music, as the soundtrack (along with everything else associated with that film) is just tremendous, and I looked up and caught He Who Only... looking down at me and grinning. I grinned back.
Right there. Right there is now my happy place.
Later that day, I couldn't stop staring at the picture. My other sister caught me staring at it and sighed "ah, another perfect moment captured forever". And as moments go, it's not half bad. I've bought a picture frame that's basically just a block of glass in which to keep it, and it sits, as if frozen in ice, in front of my beautiful new digital radio, pride of place in my bedroom.
It's not often you're aware of your perfect moments until they've passed you by. You'll be sitting at work one day and thinking back on the last day, week, month or year and suddenly something will spring to mind and you'll find yourself grinning for no reason and thinking about how wonderful that moment was, how magical or how funny or how wreckless or how stupid, but just how great it was to be there, right there in that moment.
I had one of them last night, a moment of clarity where you realise that everything is in the absolute right place, everything for once, just for that bright shining moment, was well in the world and I had nothing else to ask for. We were sitting in the dark in my bedroom, watching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid being played haltingly and with quite bad resolution on the face of my laptop. I was lying down, He Who Only... was sitting up, and we were both sucking on sweets Mrs Bishop had sent for through the post. A big fight broke out in the film and I started boxing along in time with the music, as the soundtrack (along with everything else associated with that film) is just tremendous, and I looked up and caught He Who Only... looking down at me and grinning. I grinned back.
Right there. Right there is now my happy place.