The joy of small pleasures

Wee books, poetry events & childlike wonder. Friday I'm In Love - Issue 15

It’s hard to human at the moment. Wearing a critical thinking hat while wading through the latest headlines is heavy work at the best of times, let alone during the unhinged first weeks of 2025.

Lately, I’ve been escaping to the bar. While this sounds like an unhealthy coping mechanism, it’s actually the opposite. My hangout of choice is a steel rig, housed in a former factory turned gym in what used to be a mining town. I feel at home here. The vast space reminds me of the “tattie” sheds I grew up playing in and around. And of the abandoned whisky warehouse we would explore as teenagers, sliding down the industrial chute and reeling when greeted with an inexplicable, extremely large pile of intestines at the bottom.

My breath clouds upwards, reaching toward the corrugated metal ceiling as I spend the morning practising gymnastic skills and attempting to get airborne, having first grounded myself with a session of weightlifting and functional fitness. Mostly I’m training for life – for strong bones and future balance. But some days, it’s the circus. Those are the best days. If only there were less clowns at the wheel.

Colours of Glen Coe. I cheekily gave the long exposure treatment to a photo M took on my phone, when she was feeling all the awe and wonder of snow-capped Scottish mountains last weekend.

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1. Disproportionate joy. I recently listened to a podcast (I *think* it was Happier with Gretchen Ruben), where folks were sharing stories of small things that bring huge pleasure.

This was exactly the visceral feeling I experienced when I spotted this pocket-sized birdwatching logbook in a gift shop in Fort William.

I’d love to hear which small things spark great joy for you. Mine include the sound of crème brûlée cracking (Amélie was spot on with her petit plaisirs), the texture of a skeleton leaf and spotting a yellow car.

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2. Travelling back in time. The backstory by artist and lifelong birdwatcher, Jennifer Moore, who created Birds of the North West Highlands, is equally wonderful. Inspired to have a go at painting birds after her son gave her a set of gouache paints for her birthday, she developed the logbook idea during the Covid lockdown and has produced 17 titles since. If you take a peek at her website you’ll see an early prototype, made when she was just six years-old.

Consider this a reminder to look back and see what little you, who was perhaps less of a perfectionist or procrastinator than current you, loved to do and make. In my case, it was publishing single sheet newspapers and recording radio shows with my cousins, doing headstands after school, and churning up the carpet while creating expressive dance routines on rollerskates. The more things change…

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3. A nonsensical thing I learned this week…

Some folks don’t believe in the existence of Finland. “Have you ever met a person from Finland?” a young conspiracy theorist probed her interviewer on Instagram. “Yes!” I found myself silently screaming at the screen.

If the Nordic country is a scam, then

Ruth Allen

is in on it…

Three new, frosted things

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The last novella I read - Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. Set in Ireland in 1985, this disquieting yet hopeful tale is based on the notorious Magdalene Laundries – commercially-run workhouses where “fallen” girls and women were locked up and maltreated or abused by the Catholic orders who governed them.

I’m interested to see how this book has been adapted to film. If anyone can do the central character and his internalised conflict justice, I suspect Cillian Murphy can.

What I’ve been binge-watching while succumbing to the latest lurgy - Bad Sisters on Apple TV+. Contrary to The Guardian’s two star review, I thought the, even darker, turn taken by season two made for compelling viewing.

Something I’m looking forward to - Scotland’s international poetry festival, StAnza returns to St Andrews next month. And I’m particularly excited to have a ticket to the live recording of the Poetry Unbound podcast (there’s an online option if you’re unable to make it to Fife). If you’re new to the work of host Pádraig Ó Tuama, who will be joined by poets Sanah Ahsan and Sasha Dugdale, then this is one of my favourite episodes.

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I’d love to hear your small pleasures, recent reads and anything else that’s been bringing wonder to your week, if you care to share in the comments.

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Sending us into the weekend is English electronic duo Goldfrapp, with 2005 hit Ooh La La which appears in season one, episode five of Bad Sisters.