I certainly count my blessings but won’t list them as I don’t want to tempt fate or the gods.
As I age, the small things in life bring me great joy, the thought of a tasty evening meal, another book by a favoured author or another episode of a period drama. The details of life are more cherished now, rather than the broad brush of previous years.
We all know a few miserable “being so cheerful keeps me going” types. These I can’t understand, particularly when socialising. They should stay home and mutter to their tellies.
It somehow feels a duty to be cheerful when out and about, unless overwhelmed with something.
I certainly don’t want to return to Victorian times for obvious reasons, but they certainly got their architecture right. My heart bleeds for the loss of so many fine buildings (thank heavens St.Pancras survived!)