And then she smiled

I thought that I would celebrate world smile day.   I’m on leave, the sun is shining, there is the prospect of an enjoyable afternoon doing exactly as I wish so it seems an obvious thing to do.   The problem is that world smile day seems to be on October 4th according to the internet (and we all know that the internet knows everything), so instead I am celebrating national “If your name begins with R then smile” day (shortened to IYNBWRTS for the sake of my keyboard).

What is it that makes us smile?   I don’t mean a guffaw or a chuckle but just a general happy smile on our face.    It can be anything.   Darling son used to have a beatific smile immediately before filling his nappy.   I am pretty sure that he has grown out of it now and I really don’t want to know if he hasn’t.   I suspect it was some sort of infant joy in the anticipation that he would shortly have his bits out in the open and have the opportunity to wee all over his father.  We’ve always had that sort of relationship.

I started IYNBWRTS with a trip to the supermarket.  Here’s a good game.  Smile at everybody possible.   It has to be a different smile for each person, you can’t just keep the same smile on your face for the entire visit.   For added emphasis you can throw in a nod or a wink too (I don’t recommend winking at anybody who is bigger than you or is of the same sex) and see what happens.   There will be a few confused looks.   There will be some who try to work out where they know you from but the overwhelming majority will smile back and nod (although probably not wink).    You can go on your way safe in the knowledge that for at least some of the people you have smiled at you’ve given them something to think about (even if it is only “That bloke is a nutter”).

I parked up on the High Street and there was a traffic warden eyeing up an errant vehicle (traffic wardens have possibly the worst job in the world.  Nobody loves them, they never get invited to parties and they can only marry other traffic wardens), I smiled at it (you can’t tell what sex the traffic wardens are round here because they whizz around on little mopeds and are bedecked in massive coats and crash helmets), then a toothy grin came back from somewhere deep inside the protective head gear, the parking ticket book was put away and the warden moved on.   My smile has just saved somebody sixty quid.   That’s enough to make anybody smile.

I thought I’d come back and write a little blog about smiling.   Just because.   I know that there is one person at least who reads the blog who probably isn’t smiling at the moment.    It would be good to think that after the little ping in the inbox, she read the post and then she smiled.

 

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