Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

On days when the ground is as shaky as daddy longlegs in their webs or when the turn of tide becomes a revolution, when uncertainty is a reliable invariable or when your brain is hibernating under a blanket of summer stories, it is about time to stop thinking and cling to the things that are set in a carefree stone and to grab a butterfly net to recollect them.

Those things, we don't argue about. Those things that are manifested in our genes and egos without conversion right and do deserve some acknowledgement whilst they are flapping their funny wings.

I am talking about the petit trivia, obscure foibles and aversions as well as the compulsive rituals that always have and always will grant maximum satisfaction or horror to our wide-eyed selves.

For instance the ridiculous fact that we try to pick up four peas at a time with the tips of our forks when nobody is watching or that we sometimes still try to not step on the cracks between the paving stones. Or the joy that comes over us when we find a particularly chunky piece of chocolate in our Stracciatella. Or, to keep to this sweet example, about the fact that we insist on putting Ben & Jerry's Phish Food into the microwave for exactly 27 seconds and under no cirumstances eat it with anything else but a soup spoon.

About cringing when somebody plays a soprano aria or drags us into a musical theatre. About loving the wind because it is leading us to believe that the seaside is waiting around the next corner even when we are positioned in the heart of the continent. About never sleeping on trains and counting trees instead, about rescuing lost earthworms and turtles, about wearing our favourite and worn-out jumpers although we have a million impeccable ones. About saying million instead of three. About not being able to sleep late, about smoking a cigarette out of the window when the whole world is asleep and being happy just for that reason. About hating the steel guitar with all our hearts and radically dismissing every song featuring the latter. About turning on the light in the middle of the night because our neighbour told us earlier that the house was haunted. About loathing board and card games. About not buying a book because we don't like the title. About buying a CD simply because it has a beautiful cover. About the irritation that we feel when someone overtakes us on our morning run. About not having the heart to delete certain songs from our iPods because we would feel guilty due to an utterly stupid sensation of nostalgic obligation although we never listen to them. About rather getting soaked than carrying an umbrella along. About playing G-flat major pieces only because we like the black keys.

About being human. About being us. About our very own small joys and pleasures. About being able to be silly as, afterall, a brainy man once said: "Never stay up on the barren heights of cleverness, but come down in the green valleys of silliness."

And, now, lets have a frugivorous drink and use a see-through straw to cull the berries.