I just returned from a long walk against a cold winter wind and am starting to regain feeling in my nose. While I thaw with a cup of hot chocolate,I drift into the inevitable musings of a solitary state.

I wonder in the silence of my apartment...until the silence becomes heavy with my thoughts. What is happiness,I wonder with complete lack of originality. The human race is yet to solve this riddle and I am comforted by my own humanity in seeking answers.
To me happiness is sitting curled with a favourite book,while the world passes me by. Extremely escapist,but truly delightful. A world shrouded with London fogs while Holmes and Watson are setting off to investigate grave and sinister crimes,where poirot is excercizing his little gray cells,where Austen's heroines are busy matchmaking,dickens pickwick bumbles around and don quixote is a knight in shining armor. Most importantly,it is the world where Gussie gives away prices and Bertie sports the stiff upper lip.

When I exit this world and go into work,I am assaulted by the pressure to achieve more,earn more,buy more and do more. It seems happiness is the trophy of those who strive in the unrelenting world and are forever assuring themselves that they are founded on financial security. Not to belittle these efforts,but I muse-have I decided to sit out the dance of life?
As my cup of chocolate is drunk and peace is restored to my soul,I end with misquoting Jerome K Jerome's -I love hard work-I could sit and watch people work hard all day!

Time to get back to my book...