More Than a Feeling
I had an odd little bit of contentment tonight. There was nothing particularly exceptional about the context. I had got home from the gym, cooled down, had a shower and was finishing off my tea while emptying the washing machine (multi-tasking mother fucker). I had An Idiot Abroad: The Bucket List on as I filled the maiden. My tea was nearly ready: two sausage butties (one with tomato ketchup one with BBQ sauce) and I was brewing a cup of tea in my Sports Direct cup (it’s fucking massive: see the picture below, that’s not one of those little tins of soup it’s a proper sized one. Yeah, it’s big isn’t it? You can’t fault a big cup of tea). And I just thought: yeah, I feel alright.
Naturally I was alone. And who doesn’t enjoy getting clean washing out of the washing machine? Also – I was hungry; I had done a solid shift at the gym and it was tea time, so I was happy about the impending meal of heated pig’s offcuts on bread. Watching Karl Pilkington is also naturally pleasing. Believe it or not I feel a bit of empathy for the moaning Manc bastard and his suspicion of anything and everything (it was the Route 66 ones for those of you who are very precisely trying to align with my circumstances) and he was explaining how though he likes eating oranges he doesn’t enjoy the act of doing it and he is just waiting for it to be over when he is doing it – so he can wash his hands, in fact – he reveals – he often does it in the bath to counteract the juices running everywhere.
These were the exact circumstances where I felt quite good (for about 30 seconds). It was hardly nirvana (the state of ultimate bliss – not the junky fronted Seattle grunge band who 20 years ago provided the soundtrack for a generational with their seminal work Nevermind) but it was okay. I am sure there are plenty of times when I am actually happier – and certainly I am not always alone when experiencing it. I suppose the solitude of this moment was one of the reasons I noticed it – rather than being distracted by actually doing something I like.
There was nothing exceptional about these circumstances; people do say it is the little things in life don’t they? As someone who has derived quite a lot of pleasure in life from an extraordinarily small penis who am I to argue? Ultimately, whilst not denying any of the things around me were good/nice/enjoyable it was probably just the endorphins¹ flowing through my system from (what can only be described as) a not-very-taxing workout (45 minutes on the x-trainer followed by some brief weights²).
¹I read the other day that the Christmas special of The Royle Family had been cancelled as Aherne and Cash had not finished the script. Given the quality of the last couple I am surprised there was that much quality control going on. They can have this exchange:
Jim “Hey up soft bollocks what’s this daft smile all about? I thought you’d been to the gym”
Dave is sat in bath of beans with a frozen turkey sawing his own arm off – but he has a big smile.
Barbara “Oooh Jim…leave him alone, I’ve read about this in my magazine; some people feel good after excercise”
Jim “No wonder you never smile then Barb'”
Barbara “Hmmm. It’s them en-dolphins that get released when you excercise”
Jim gurns a face of shock at Barbara using the wrong word and get’s his ukulele out before playing a 4-minute solo while the camera pans around the room.
²I don’t mean they were short weights – they were normal weights, I mean I didn’t do many.