Okay, so I was going to launch ito a whole spiel about how if one distills the kaleidescopic sequence and progression of life into pure, isolated, concentrated images that epitomise and validate certain profound notions of positivity and ecstasy, giving meaning to existence, what would pop up in this slide show of lucid, undiluted snapshots.
Then I thought, oh bugger it. I'll just do that boring bloggy thing of compiling a list of Moments of Perfection. It is nice to muse on these things after all. Sweetness and light, sunshine and lollipops etc. So here they are, according to Anna...
Kicking heels off after a long night out dancing.
Drinking peppermint tea out of my huge, clunky Guardian mug whilst watching BBCiplayer.
Being propped up by the Aga, pretending to read and soaking in the conversations that surround.
Splodging and squelching through thick mud. In walking boots or wellies. Up North.
Watching the ballet in the Royal Opera House, blown away by orchestral music and visual oppulence.
Head hitting the pillow after the perfect amount of wine, sending me off into the perfect deep, cosy sleep.
Being swaddled on the perfectly arranged sofa in front of Sunday evening telly.
The Libertines actually being played when I am on the dancefloor.
Ditto Spice Girls.
The cat stretching its paws out and gently stroking my chin in absent minded affection.
The feeling when in the throes of an intense yet exhilerating piece of work.
Guilt free celebrity gossip page reading.
Walking through Regents Park/Bedford square/along Gower Street/through the city in general when the light is perfect and I am preferably holding a takeaway coffee.
I am pleased to admit that these are just the tip of the iceburg really. Now you can have the sick bucket. Finishing one's essay does rather give one a lust for life and appreciation for the finer things I must say.