Happiness wine and the joy of spontaneous poetry

It's not often that I venture forth from the house after I get back from work. This evening was an exception - my summer shoes are officially d.e.a.d, having a great big hole in each sole that I can fit my hand through, so I mounted a short expedition to a popular brand-name supermarket to pick up a cheap replacement pair.

On a seemingly unrelated note, I had a glass of wine with dinner. Everyone tells me that I get giggly when I'm tipsy, but it took this expedition to really drive home the cheerfulness that comes over me after a nice glass of Pinot Grigio.

The evening was lovely. The air was cool, the rain had passed, and the sun was hidden by just enough fluffy cloud to keep it shining in my eyes as I walked. The people on the bus seemed happy and sociable. The drivers in the well-known brand supermarket were friendly and let me cross at the crossing (this is a first - I was surprised). And as I walked, I looked up and saw this.

You can't tell from this photo, but that *tiny* black dot in the centre is a balloon, forlornly drifting through the London skies. I smiled when I saw it, I sympathised with its lonely journey, and then, for no reason other than wine, I wrote a little haiku about the thoughts that went through my head watching it go by. A haiku that is on the cutting edge of current events. This one speaks to me. It's a little frightening.

*Ahem*

Black balloon floats by.

I grab my phone and chase it.

But it's not Gastly.

And on a final note, I may be playing Pokemon. We can debate what counts as 'too much' Pokemon, and we can throw around words like 'turn that damn game off', 'do some work', or 'get out of my back garden', but what would we gain from that? Let's all just be happy that I'm happy. And let's all drink wine.