Roger! I've often wondered about those single seats... I think you've struck on a new way of attending theatre! Btw, it says something wonderful about you and your wife, too.

For now, I just want to say: Isn't this a great thread? I'm so glad I started it and you've kept it going by sharing lovely snippets of happiness in your lives. Thank you all for contributing.

Tomorrow I'm having a 1960s lunch party at my house . . . so I'll let you know about it afterwards!

Jayne

Here's a happy story from long ago. I was attending Richmond College in England and it was Christmas break. The campus was closed down for the break and most of my friends high-tailed it home for the duration and I couldn't afford such luxury. I had 10 days to spend somewhere with almost no money to spend on it. I bought a rail ticket to Edinburgh and found a run down hotel on Princes St., plunked down a chunk of money for a room and settled in to survival mode: walking, people watching, sight-seeing and reading – all of which could be done for free. That left me with enough spare change to subsist on cigarettes, coffee and various forms of bread and cheese.

I had found a café nearby that was comfortable and didn’t mind my lingering for hours nursing my allotted cup of coffee and sometimes a scone. The waitress was an older woman and she would come by from time to time and refill my cup which was like a little present each time she did. I sat, sometimes for hours, enjoying the moment of just being. I don’t remember seeing the sun or blue sky once during my stay. The whole time was a cloudy, wintery mix of rain and sleet and some snow. I was fascinated by the darkness of the winter days at that latitude. It gave credence to my idea that I was somewhere exotic. And cold. And dark. And wonderfully old.

On Christmas Eve afternoon, knowing the café would be closed on Christmas morning, I stopped in for my usual cup of coffee and stayed my usual couple of hours. Before I left I went up to the counter where there was a display case of goodies and splurged on a few shortbread cookies to take back to the hotel and feast on the next morning when everything would be closed (along with a cup of hot tap water instant coffee). The waitress came back with a box full of cookies and cakes and scones and handed it to me smiling and said, “They’ll just go to waste – Merry Christmas chappy”.

To this day I have not had a more memorable Christmas. I feasted on the gift of the box of sweets in the morning and walked the deserted streets of Edinburgh in the afternoon until dark. I don't know if it's my memory playing tricks on me, but I remember hearing Christmas music in the air all afternoon. When I came back to the hotel the manager had a plateful of sausages and other food I can’t remember or didn’t recognize : ). If I could time travel, that might be the date I’d want to re-visit. A happy memory.

What a lovely story, Jim. Edinburgh is a magical city.

My 1960s lunch party yesterday was great - and there was a lot of food left so I covered it all in cling film and fridged it. Today I had another couple of dozen friends here and we consumed the lot while we played board games for several hours . . . Sequence, Rummikub, Cribbage, Bananagrams, Mexican Train and Phase Ten.

Card games and board games tend to be a ''love 'em or hate 'em" thing, but most of my friends and I love all of the ones above, and many more too numerous to mention. So I've had two consecutive days of endless fun and laughter.

Jayne

I purchased a copy of Willis Barnstone's:The Secret Reader a few days ago and am merrily reading it beside the fire. I may take it out to the deer stand and read it there as well. So far, I love it. It's signed too, not to me, but it's still signed.

Terese Coe, I thought of you today.

The trailer for Almodovar's "Julieta" embedded here played today in my local art-house cinema. It's based on several of Alice Munro's stories, but he's set in in Madrid, of course. It's supposed to show in a few weeks. I can't wait!

Happiness is again being able to wear trousers with a 30 inch waist after 6 months of being a 32. Coincidentally, the 6 months were barren for writing, so I suspect flab depresses my creativity.

Inauguration day; Thinking of when I was 11 1/2 years old, and faked a sore throat (the only time I ever played hookey from school) to watch JFK's inauguration on our old Philco TV.

Robert Frost stood out in the bitter cold and recited a poem, which my mother recognized.

Now; I stay with her in her small lakeside house during the winter months to help her with daily tasks. She's still doing well at 92 years.

Biggest good news of the decade for me: last night I was accepted into Ohio State's Ph.D. program (my application was geared toward studying editions of early modern poetry, such as John Benson's Poems vis-a-vis Shakespeare's Sonnets). It was the first response of thirteen applications, so I may wind up elsewhere, but I'm extremely grateful that, despite being older than the average student, I've beat some fairly long odds to get in to at least one great program. Onward and upward!

Far less important, but still "good" and relevant to the 'Sphere: I'm taking a graduate writing seminar on formal poetry (specifically on the long poem) in my final semester at UMD, so I'll finally be writing poetry again, after a 2.5 year hiatus...

That's wonderful news, Shaun. Well done you!

You and Alan have both mentioned a writing hiatus, which I'm having too - and I think you may have sussed out the right reason for it, Alan!

My good news is that my lovely daughter and her husband have sold their house and got the [much, much nicer] one they desperately wanted, after a battle royal with the estate agent. The funny thing is, they'll be moving to the other side of the road, four houses up, so we shall have to carry beds, sofas, tables, everything, across the street. (Maybe we'll do it under cover of darkness - but then it would look like a ''moonlight flit'' :D)

Jayne