And all these little things

Before beginning the ‘article proper’ I feel it necessary to state that this post has absolutely no tie, bond, or estranged familial link to the popular boyband, One Direction.  The picture's there to boost hits. There.  Secret’s out. So if you’re reading this solely because of your allegiance to Harry, Zayn, Liam, Louis, and Niall (thank you, Wikipedia), prepare to be sorely disappointed; not just by this blog post, but also by the limp handshake that is One Direction’s career.  Our title is however relevant.

For those readers not acquainted with the recent work of Mr Sheeran, allow me to explain.  'And all these little things' refers to a song in which the boyband members vow not to let the particular insecurities of their respective partners ‘slip out of their mouth’, before proceeding to list said insecurities, in substantial detail.  The idea is that ‘all these little things’ add up to make their beloved; a valiant sentiment, though perhaps a little naïve in light of our previous post.  Whilst I’d rather not hear about the lower back anatomy or bedtime ritual of a OneD groupee, the song does serve to draw attention to the little things in life.

There are some pretty big negatives in life, like war.  There are also some pretty big positives, like love.  The way we see it here at VftI is that these bulky contributions to the living experience more or less cancel out (we came to this conclusion after an extensive brainstorming session last Thursday afternoon).  This is a sobering thought.  It leaves us stranded in a no-man’s-land of apathy, and battle now falls to the minutiae, to the little things.  It is these little things that will either break the camel’s back, that is, make life completely unbearable; or they will form a nifty sort of back brace for the camel, allowing it to frolic further in the rich and meaningful pastures of life.

What follows are some of the little things which, I believe, make life worth living.

The Edible Supernatural

Some believe in God because of the immensity of the universe.  Others believe in God because of Aquinas’ ‘Five Ways’.  I’ve come to the conclusion that much of my belief in God stems from the awe and wonder inspired by cracking into a double-yolked egg.  Many a youthful prayer of thanksgiving erupted as a result of finding a seventh Mini Jaffa Cake in my lunch time Jaffa-pod.  These wonders of nature never cease to amaze, largely because they spring from nowhere, catching the lucky recipient off guard.  Not only can you marvel in the sublime beauty of such occurrences, but you can actually eat them.  This means a double barrelled mind-body benefit, which is certainly something to smile about.     

The Perfect Cup of Tea

The legend that is George Orwell has already covered this subject thoroughly, though I believe the matter to merit a second visit.  There would be no exaggeration in my saying ‘I live for tea’.  So perhaps there would be slight exaggeration in saying this, but I honestly do not know of anything (perhaps excluding friends.  And drugs.) that is better at reviving spirit and body.  The perfect cup of tea is subjective.  I like mine strong; others prefer theirs weak.  I like mine with milk; others prefer theirs without.  I like mine in a sturdy mug; the French prefer theirs in a flimsy glass cup.  There really are so many permutations and combinations to explore that we shouldn’t accept the excuses of that one person in the friendship group who ‘doesn’t drink tea’ and ‘really does quite like hot water by itself’.  Such people should be treated with the greatest suspicion, as an aversion to tea can be a marker for subtly masked aversion to other things, such as joy and fulfilment.  These people are in need of breaking, that’s all.

Mood Lighting

Mood lighting is music for the eyes. It can romanticise the most banal of tasks, provided it is employed skilfully.  The next time you’re writing an essay, do it in a dimly-lit room.  When you need to arrange washing on a clothes horse, turn that desk lamp on first.  The resulting medley of shadows and shades inevitably leads to deep thoughts, and life’s too short to paddle in superficiality.     

The Finishing of Books

I wish I could read more than I do, largely because of the weighty ‘mind-buzz’ that comes with finishing a good book.  I find myself sitting for a moment, closed paperback in hands, not being able to remember a single thing that I’ve just read and yet somehow aware that the entire work’s contents have just been assimilated into my being. I feel wise.  Fulfilled.  And then I place the novel carefully back on the bookshelf, not because I am likely to read it again, but instead because it reminds me of my literacy. This is a richness difficult to source from elsewhere, though I imagine it to fade easily with over-exposure (English lit. students, I’m thinking of you). 

Crackling

Before our vegetarian brethren kick off, allow me to clarify: I mean the crackling noise resulting from a stylus making contact with a vinyl on a record player.  This sound is an aperitif, clearing the mind of all debris in preparation for what is about to be heard. It is the cloud of mystery that exists between silence and music. It is a sound that transcends generations.  Admittedly, its mysticism is somewhat tarnished by knowing that the crackling results from scratch-imperfections on the record itself, but couldn’t these imperfections make the music all the more real, earthy, and, well, even holy?  No, you’re right, that’s ridiculous.  Even so, I quite like the sound of crackling, and it makes me happy to be alive, so yeah.

Space to Urinate

This next item is tricky.  It’s tricky because it involves urination, and because it only applies to half of our readership. I challenge you to find a man who does not feel a weight lifted from his shoulders when, upon entering a public toilet, he finds every urinal to be free. The choice is his. He is the master of urinals. He may choose any one he likes.  And he feels epic.  The man is safe in the knowledge that he will not have to brush shoulders with any overly-friendly pensioners, nor will he have stare at the wall as if his life depended on it (depending on the location of this public toilet, his life may well depend on it).  Rather he can relax, take his time, and do that which needs to be done.  I’m not sure that members of the fairer sex quite understand the trauma that can accompany a visit to the Men’s on a busy day. Many a man lays in bed at night fretting over whether he should have taken his spot at that vacant urinal flanked by burley men, or if it was in fact better to have others in the queue think him a coward.  The situation is worsened further when the toilet in question is equipped not with urinals, but with an old-school ‘trough’, and so vacant spaces are no longer discrete entities, but continuous variables requiring careful judgement. A wise man once said that if you’re capable of looking into another man’s eyes at the urinals, you’d be capable of killing him on the battlefield.  In this respect I am very much a pacifist, and so an empty public toilet has the potential to remind me why life is worth living. I’d be grateful if anybody could inform me of a female equivalent, if one does indeed exist.   

So there you have it.  These are the things we should be living for.  Perhaps sometime today you could pause and reflect on the joy that these little things bring into all of our lives?  Stay tuned for 'And all these little things, Part II: things that make me want to kill myself'.