‘These are the good days’, according to a scientific discovery it is the five word sentence that can beat the blues. ‘Hedonic adaptation, also known as the hedonic treadmill, is the process by which people quickly return to a stable level of happiness after experiencing significant positive or negative events. This means that even after achieving something that brings joy, like a new job or a purchase, the initial happiness fades, and individuals often revert to their baseline level of contentment.
Repeating THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS’ regularly can restore a sense of happiness.
So even after three days of dialysis I am told THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS.
When Trump bulldozes the East Wing repeat THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS.
When politicians lie shamelessly the mantra is THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS.
When the car breaks down and you use the last of your savings to fit a new piston ring state THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS.
You may wish to be ironic, you may wish to intone through gritted teeth but according to 21st century science THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS will help.
When the Amazonian Rain Forest is getting shreaded and the red squirrel looks like it’s eaten it’s last acorn recall THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS
When it looks like all is lost mutter under your breath THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS.
When REFORM takes the stand and spill their bile, when The EDL take to the streets and you despair at the state of the nation remember THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS.
Restorative language is the name of the game. For life is indeed a game, as Florence Scovel Shinn wrote back in the 1930’s, ‘the game of life and how to play it’ is the task we all face.
So chanting THESE ARE THE FUCKING GOOD DAYS may help. Who knows?
I’m deaf in my right ear and I lost my glasses, unable to see or hear properly. The printer’s stopped working, there’s a dead something in the kitchen which we cant find, and the lights blown outside the door, but THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS. I dread to think what the fucking bad days are, but, sticking with it – THESE ARE THE PIGGIN GOOD DAYS.
So the light fades earlier and the trees are bare, Christmas is as close as a man on the tube with halitosis, and our local community is up in arms. We have an Army camp two miles away, the intention of the government is to house 600 asylum seekers in the barracks. The parish is having a meeting and people are talking about manning the barricades. Of course the refugees should be given accommodation, of course we should be compassionate and caring BUT, 600 single men in a community that offers very little for it’s young people is a challenge.
We have three supermarkets, one community centre and four nail bars. We have two mobile phone shops and a new chemist with treatment rooms, but we don’t have a youth centre, or sufficient meeting places for people to go. I’ve been tainted by the machine that tells me 600 asylum seekers are going to be evil and anti-social. I’ve been drawn in by the narrative that these young men are difficult and already a problem. It’s hard to argue that hundreds of them will be trained; doctors, lawyers, teachers, whilst knowing there will bee a handful of yobs, it is hard to argue that we should be showing empathy and consideration.
If my lot had been treated like this lot I wouldn’t be sitting here in my little warm cottage writing on an expensive lap top. If my lot hadn’t been given the opportunities they were given I wouldn’t be arguing the toss in my cosy house. It’s an abomination that 600 young fellers are being demonised before they’ve even got here.It’s a disgrace that we close our doors on 600 desperate human beings. It’s a living nightmare that we see others as outsiders and that they are interlopers with criminal tendencies. 600 young men fleeing from war and awful atrocities, being labelled rapists and pillagers by the likes of Farage and his band of nasties.
Shouldn’t we be providing teachers and helpers, coaches and therapists to acclimatise these young men; shouldn’t we be creating situations so they can become part of the country; part of the community, shouldn’t we be helping desperate people rather than blocking them?
If they were 600 blue eyed blondies coming in from South Africa would it be different?
The times they are-a-changing and we have to change with ’em.
Whether you are one of the 600 or an established old fogey living in our green and pleasant land, let us tap into our good selves and just remember
THESE ARE THE GOOD DAYS