Maria had the right idea...

...Let’s simply remember a few of our FAVOURITE things

SO THERE I was in the shower wondering what I might write about in this, my first column of 2021. Usually at this time of year pickings are pretty slim. New Year babies and slimming advice with perhaps a bit of weather thrown in.

But then there’s nothing usual about this January.

So I could write about the virus and the new lockdown and how different it is going to be from the first (clue: it’s not – people have already started panicbuying toilet roll and Joe Wicks is breaking in a new pair of trainers as we speak.)

I could write about the hokey-cokey chaos around the reopening of schools after the Christmas break

(in, out, in, out) or the risk of the NHS being overwhelmed by the soaring case numbers or the hope that comes with the vaccine. Or, I could have a bash at Brexit. Or perhaps

We’ve all had a mountain to climb over the last 12 months – keeping in mind the good things in life can only help the on-going political chaos in America.

But then I thought how miserable it all was, especially in January which isn’t famed for being a bundle of laughs at the best of times.

And anyway, you can read about all that elsewhere in this paper – I’d recommend having a strong drink to hand if you do.

I was in the bedroom by now, drying my hair, with the strains of the Sound of Music drifting up from the living room where my daughter was watching it for the hundredth time.

And just as Julie Andrews was warbling about how when she felt sad she’d simply remember her favourite things and then not feel so bad – I had it.

Why not list some of the UK’s favourite things? Those common pick-me-ups we all share even if we might not realise it?

A sort of handy go-to guide for these dark days, a cheerer-upper and a reminder that there are better times to come when we’ll all be able to enjoy these things again.

Because if it works for Maria then why not the rest of us? So here goes: Hot buttered toast on thick white bread; a roast dinner; your own bed when you’ve been away; feeding ducks in the park; writing your name in the air with sparklers; getting to the front of the queue – any queue; finding a parking space just when you need one; an open fire; the smell of a baby; jumping over waves and building sand castles; opening a brown envelope and finding a cheque not a demand; kicking leaves; twinkly lights on a tree, by a harbour, in a city and fish and chips out of newspaper on a prom.

And finally – brown paper packages (ideally tied up with string). Because sometimes you just don’t want it delivered by Amazon.