360.

I'm currently winging my way to the far northeast of Scotland on good old Scotrail, the transport equivalent of boxcars you might see in 1940s Poland (YOU KNOW WHAT I'M REFERRING TO) combined with the decor of a very ugly, appallingly filthy 1970s hotel lobby. 

I exaggerate a little. In our carriage, there is a large group of lads clearly setting out for a stag weekend. They're drinking and cheering and acting foolish, but in quite an innocent way. These two women sitting near me (also with babies) are getting increasingly scandalised, shooting them dirty looks and tutting like hens. Relax ladies, I'm sure you'll survive being in the general vicinity of people having a good time. 

It's a bleak, typically Scottish day outside. The Perthshire countryside is rolling by, long stretches of dull, flat farmland suddenly interrupts by giant, treeless fells. And now I'll change the subject before I get all pretentious and poetic. Some more. 

Yesterday, I whined and complained about Shit I Don't Like, but theme of today's symposium is Shit I Like. Bet you didn't see THAT crafty wordsmithery on its way. Keep up. 

First up is a sandwich modification that has REVOLUTIONISED my lunchtimes. I'm probably late to the party here, but put coleslaw on your sandwiches. DO IT. I mean, on paper it's pretty much the same as using mayonnaise and lettuce but in practice, it is ASTONISHING. It's the little things in life folks. 

In the brain-atrophying department, The Real Housewives has my unwavering loyalty. (If you refuse to lower the bar this low, skip this bit). When they were in Orange County, and Tamra got Gretchen "naked wasted" and then Gretchen starting making out with Tamra's 22 year old son? TV GOLD. When they were in NYC and Luann performed her single "Money Can't Buy You Class?" I DIED WITH DELIGHT. Feel free to weigh in with your favourite bits of this important televisual experience in the comments. 

A new pursuit for me, but already one of my favourite things to do, is to buy/find Catholic kitsch. Really, it started with His sacred heart, from J's mother, and now I am a woman on a (good-natured but mocking all the same) mission. Now, nobody get bent out of shape. It's not the belief structure I'm making fun of. It's shit like this little Holy Family figure my 70 year old neighbour gave to me, as she's moving and thought J would like it. The one where Mary's eyes are looking in opposite directions, Joseph looks startling like Ken (of Barbie fame), and the baby Jesus is wearing a neon green robe. If there's a cornball portrait/statue/_____ of our Lord and Saviour doing His thing (hanging out in the woods with fawns, standing at sunset in the countryside with a beatific expression on His face, looking blandly at some poor wretch having a bad day etc) I want to know about it! Check out Jesus of the Week to get an idea of what I'm on about here. 

So, what's making you happy these days?