Happiness is...

I'm not a difficult person to please. Give me a treehouse, a pot of tea, a stack of pancakes or a pineapple and I'm happy. I love tatty floral curtains, my tiger mittens, and I've been known to emit small squeals of delight over snowglobes. If I ever got my dream gift (a smiling-eyed lavender monkey who rides on my shoulder throwing glitter at beautiful people), or the chance to have a pot of tea and pancakes in a magical, ramshackle treehouse, I think my heart would stop with delight. I've accepted that the monkey may not be in my christmas stocking this year, so when a friend recently linked me a picture of the tumble-down treehouse of my dreams, I felt a trumpet of joy. That things like this exist, that people make things like this exist, makes me so happy. Perhaps I'll never get my monkey, but at least somebody somewhere may be polishing off a spot of tea in a magical treehouse. Maybe one day it will be me.