Counting blessings

Still raining after a night full of thunderstorms and cloud bursts, thick mountain fog and drifting street-level mists populated by slinking, soggy cats.

I've been feeling rather hard-done-by lately, and I thought it was time to give myself a shake and count my blessings in a good old-fashioned stiff-upper-lip sort of way, for as Paulo Coelho wrote, "Every blessing ignored becomes a curse". 

When I set my mind to it, I got to seven in about as many seconds, and here they are - because seven is a magical number and if I do things by sevens and don't step on the cracks, it might encourage the sun to come out, and that would make everyone feel much better...

1.) I have been blessed with two healthy and energetic children in my middle years when I thought perhaps it might never happen. They're a handful of trouble, but also a heap of happiness.

2.) But for the fact that he doesn't play the Spanish guitar, my beloved husband would count as one of Joanna Trollope's impossible men. And I adore him.

3.) I live in a beautiful place and have as neighbours and friends many people I like and admire. Outings are punctuated with cheerful greetings and friendly conversations - all adding up to making me feel part of a happy and sane community. 

4.) The eternal renovation project I call home, while being a bugger to keep clean and tidy (especially when populated by one under-40 male, two under-6 kids, one over-size adolescent gun dog, half-a-dozen cats and the occasional sick chick), is big enough to contain all our desires and old enough to forgive all our frustrations. 

5.) My so-called garden, while being a bugger to keep up with, is jammed with beautiful colours, exquisite smells and good things to eat - that's if I can find them among the weeds and the heaps of obese slugs. 

6.) We have enough income to keep us in books, burgundy and brockenstube bric-à-brac, and our little family business is steady-as-she-goes. No repossessions. No double-dip debts. No recession night-sweats.

7.) So what is the biggest problem in my life right now? How to transport more than a thousand books from the East End attic where they've languished for seven years to a point south of the English Channel. 

And that's not such a big problem, after all...