Unearned happiness

Do you ever get a little bubble-moment of what feels like unearned happiness? When there's no real reason to be happy except that you and everything around you is in its ... beingness?

Today, I was in the car, driving into town via the Western Approach Road. It's usually a quick run through but just today, probably because of the snow (snow!) there was a tailback all the way to Roseburn.

So I crept along in my old Citroen at a snail's pace. I was listening to Radio 3 and Kate Royal was singing one of the Songs of the Auvergne - I knew the music but couldn't think what it was. When the radio announcer said what it was after, I remembered that my granny used to listen to that piece all the time.

The weather was dreary. The sky was matt grey and lightless and there was an icy drizzling snow. But the car was warm.

The Western Approach Road isn't expecially scenic. You pass the brewery and the smell of hops is thick and yeasty. You come off the high part of the road, and pass the back of a big square grey complex that houses Mecca Bingo and Cineworld.

But there's always something.

As I queued to merge into the right lane, I had a few minutes to enjoy the abundance of daffodils on the verges. Daffodils all beaten down by last night's storm but still there and alive. Not exactly William Wordsworth wandering lonely as a cloud, but still.

Tailback of cars; dismal weather; beaten daffodils; beautiful music.

It was just a few minutes of ordinary transit. But weirdly, I was smiling.