Things that make me smile:
Chickens, the one left behind suddenly realising and running after the others like a cartoon chicken, suddenly panic stricken, legs akimbo, all flap and silliness. Cockerels shouting at each other, calling and fussing, gathering their girls to them for a particularly tasty morsel. Hens in a dust bath, settling, fluffing their wings, scratching and dousing themselves in dust as if it were water.
My grandson, serious, silly, three years old, all blond hair and blue eyes. We are driving. A voice comes from the back.
"Are you, love? That's nice." What is going on here, a very young narcissist?
"Yes, and my mummy is very beautiful."
"Well you're a very lucky boy."
My father in law, telling me yet again, both amused and indignant, at his horror on discovering that the chocolate chip ice cream he had bought was green. "Green! I thought it was off!" He ate it though, not easily put off, my father in law. He will however never accept that calling something mint and chocolate chip ice cream is any excuse for making it green. He is probably right, presumably the green is some hideous chemical cocktail, but it is his indignation that tickles me. It is a real affront.
My father, telling me in all seriousness that his dippy dog is perfectly behaved. He was a firm disciplinarian with the pets of our childhood but now in his seventies he is prepared to forgive this one anything.
Sinking my nose into a great jug of sweet peas. These are from some Sarah Raven seeds sent to me by a blogging friend who I have not yet met but hope to soon. The flowers are dark, deep purples, dark blues, velvety burgundies, not the largest of blooms but strongly and sweetly scented. They sit on the deep windowsill of the sitting room wafting their scent as I pass.
The sound of the cork coming out of a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.
The sound of my husband's car on the gravel, coming home.