Terry Pratchett: Snuff

'My mum always told me money can’t buy you happiness, sir.’

Yes, Vimes thought, so did my ma, but she was glad enough when I gave her my first wages, because it meant we could have a meal with meat in it, even if we didn’t know what kind of meat it was. That’s happiness, isn’t it? Blimey, the lies we tell ourselves …

(Feeney Upshot & Sam Vimes, p 117)

It is refreshing to read a favourite author of yours attacking a cliché which has a grain of truth in it but has by constant repetition been turned into something very remote from it. Because of course there are some sorts of happiness no amount of money can buy, like true friendship or having good luck, but there are likewise many sorts of happiness that you absolutely can buy for money, from good food and drink to a comfortable home to a pleasant trip or book and so on and so forth ...

 

The flit

Amongst the things I failed to blog about was the moving of the flat in mid-July. It went exceptionally well, no doubt partly because the night before I worried so much I could scarcely sleep. I worried that, in my emaciated state, moving the desk with a friend of mine might be beyond my power; in the event we actually managed to move virtually all my possessions at one go.

The following day I handed the old flat over to the landlord, which went smoothly as well; I later even received about a third of the deposit. Considering I had expected something between zero and a half, it could be called a success.