Joyful moments

These are gloomy times, for sure. It’s easy to become overwhelmed by the dark clouds of dangerous politics that threaten us from both directions. I don’t have a solution to that except, perhaps, not to vote for bigoted fascist manipulators in the first place. Believe me, they are not and never will be on your side unless you are a billionaire. Maybe check your bank balance if you’re in any doubt.

It’s completely rational and understandable if you wish to withdraw from the world into your cocoon of comfort for a while. We all need a break at times. We all need to Sharpen the Saw as Stephen R. Covey would put it1.

I am looking for small tokens of joy. Here are three of my favourites:

The time just as you wake in the mornings but you’re not fully awake, and you shut your eyes and remain in a dreamlike state for a while, warm and comfy under your duvet. You can think about anything at this point. You can plan your day ahead or you can go to your happy place or you can have a quick daydream. Beware, though, if you have something to get up for: I did this today and promptly went back to sleep for an hour.
The first cup of breakfast coffee. Hot, rich and fragrantly inspiring. As you know, despite having tried all manner of coffee machines, my preferred coffee is always made in a stovetop Mokapot. Waitrose Edenbridge had run out of my normal Illy in a tin last week and it was an emergency so I bought Lavazza Gold, which is admittedly less wasteful but still very delicious. I use a milkfrother to make a Latte or a Cappucino. (I often use enough milk that Fergus gets to have a puppachino). That coffee moment is just like the ones on the old coffee ads but for real. This morning I reached for my mug only to find that my coffee had all been drunk. Woe

The autumn colours this year seem exceptionally vivid and long-lasting and Fergus has discovered the rustling, scrunching sound of his paws on the dry leaves that are forming dunes on the pavement. I swear that he chooses to walk on them because he enjoys kicking them up and this makes me smile every day.

What are your small glimmers of joy?

Our AGM guest

Bromley Liberal Democrats held our AGM this week and Luke Taylor, the new MP for Sutton and Cheam, where we were sent to campaign during the General Election, came and spoke to us about the campaign and the successful strategy of concentrating on winnable target seats that yielded more LibDem MPs than had been elected in 100 years.

Luke spoke about the Assisted Dying Bill and the complex arguments on both sides. The vote will be a matter of conscience for MPs and, despite liberal principles suggesting that people should be free to live their lives as they choose, the arguments that some vulnerable people would be made to feel like a burden to their loved ones if they didn’t comply were also compelling. For me, this is a question of adequate home support for people in unbearable pain, and their families, which isn’t always available at present.

Luke also mentioned the threats to our defence and security posed by the election of Donald Trump and the installation of the dark forces around him who might profit from further destabilising global politics, and some of the measures we are taking to shore up the UK and Europe’s defence, should Trump’s US decide to withdraw from NATO. It was really interesting to hear from Luke and I’m glad I was there.

Blood donor

Yesterday was the 2nd anniversary of Oscar’s death and I wrote about that horrible time here. In some sort of vague tribute to my late darling boy, I booked Fergus’s first donation for this afternoon at the Pet Blood Bank, which was holding a session not far from here.

Flatcoated Retrievers are among the couple of handfuls of breeds that are more likely to have the DEA 1 negative blood type that can be given to all other dogs in an emergency and only 30% of eligible donors have this bllod type. I did wonder at first about the ethics of submitting a pet who trusts you and cannot consent to this invasion of their bodily autonomy, but a vet friend reassured me that perhaps Fergus might need a transfusion of the blood of someone else’s pet in the future. It’s paying it forward, really, for him I suppose.

I didn’t really know how it would work, how they would manage to get this young, bouncy boy to lie still for long enough to give an adequate donation, and it almost didn’t happen. The Pet Blood Bank staff err on the side of safety, and if a donor doesn’t want to continue they’d rather stop the process so that the dog isn’t spooked and can come again another time. Any blood taken in a curtailed session is donated to veterinary research so none is wasted.

Still, Fergus managed to lie there on the donation table for three and a half minutes, three vet nurses and me at his head and feet all telling him what a good, brave, lovely, calm, gorgeous etc boy he was and stroking him to keep him calm and occupied. For his first time, he did really well and donated pretty much a whole unit, that might be used to save the lives of four other dogs. I am so very proud of him, and what a tribute to his late Great-uncle Oscar!

Fergus was allowed to choose a bag of treats and a toy and, after resting for half an hour and a huge drink of water, came home for a big snooze still sporting his donor’s bandana.