Knowing, as I do, that we all worship at the altar of St Julie Andrews, and that it is the Sect of The Sound of Music's holy light that is bathed in and revered above all on high in particular, converting multitudes from all backgrounds, creeds and sexual preferences who join the Musical Theatre flock to the sacred word (or should I say song) of Our Lady, Julie, I thought I would pay my respects by sacrificing this blog post in benediction. In short, the theme will be These Are a Few of My Favourite Things.
First of all I would like to state that I do have a certain fondness for raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens and the like. A tear can even be brought to my eye (glisteneing upon my eyelash as dew clings to grass, sparkling under the sun's warm glow) by the arrival of a brown paper package tied up with string.
However, in order to prevent nausea and the need for sick buckets I shall swiftly move on to things that are marginally more stomach-settling and that actually are My Favourite Things...
Bohemian dressing rooms.
Being in the darkness of the cinema and forgetting where I am, that I am actually in public, due to being so totally immersed.
The warmth that comes with slightly sweaty pyjamas under the duvet.
Brushing my teeth the morning after the night before.
Having my feet prodded.
The view from the sitting room window just after it has been raining (that is a soppy one, granted, but only because it is like some vivid drug trip with all the colour and blurred edges).
The first sip of a glass of red wine when really comfortable and sleepy.
Heated intellectual debate, usually regarding literature, when it doesn't bother me how pretentious or arsy I sound.
Proving people wrong when in heated intellectual debate.
Watching Sex and the City on my laptop at half 2 in the morning when the rest of the house is silent.
Looking through old photos.
Memories of Simnal cake.
Storms, with me on the inside.
Crying at some relentlessly weepy film so much it hurts to swallow and I have no inclination to wipe away the streaming tears.
Reading The Guardian, especially at the weekend.
Seeing people at those moments when they have no idea they are being seen, and they are all cute and childlike and look like they are a snuffly four year old again.
Books. Fiction. The smell of old, yellowing paper. Feeling like I never want a novel to end.
Sitting on battered leather sofas.
Drinking Sally's Mum's special blend in Sally's house, with Meg the dog finally ceasing her growling and sitting on my feet.
The unity between siblings when fighting against parental authority in common cause and rare affinity with one another.
The list goes on and on...
I could provide endless material for the Von Trapps in The Sound of Music II. No doubt, after having tackled Nazis in the first one, the War on Terror would be solved by a problem like Maria. She would soften the opposition with images of warm woolen mittens.