In general I’m quite a bitter and unappreciative person, but on Sunday mornings I try to pretend I have a sunny disposition, and that I’m grateful for a few things. For example: in the middle of winter (and it’s a bitter winter in Stockholm as I’m writing this) I’m grateful for Vitamin D supplements. I’m grateful for hot coffee and artificial sweetener. I’m grateful for the toastie machine, which I had imported directly from a warehouse in Birmingham. I’m grateful for ugly men (though I don’t see too many of them around here). I’m somewhat grateful for Apple’s privacy settings. I’m grateful that my dear old mother advised me to train as a lawyer. I’m grateful for Georges Perec’s Life: A User’s Manual. I’m grateful for radiators. I’m grateful that when I told my dear old father one afternoon that one of my classmates was vexatious, he said: don’t use big words, they make you sound stupid. I’m grateful for cinnamon buns. I’m grateful that a man I know, ‘an eminent public figure’, hasn’t published our emails. I’m grateful for the Latin root, gratus — pleasing. I’m grateful for the non-sequiturs of Robert Walser. I’m grateful for the fact that I’m a bit stupid. I’m grateful that my dear old mother didn’t insist I become a lawyer. I’m grateful for Bart Simpson’s Guide to Life. I’m grateful that I went to a Christian primary school and had early dealings with God and some of His earthly messengers. I’m grateful for the wise example of Ace Ventura. I’m grateful for Etymonline, which glosses ‘grateful’ as ‘pleasing to the mind’, ‘full of gratitude, disposed to repay favours bestowed’, both of which sound like exquisitely Walserian phrases. I’m grateful for role-play. I’m grateful that I just overheard a little girl in a cafe say: ‘I learned a new word today. It’s when you say something but with different words. It’s called a parrot-phrase. BAKAWK!’
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