One Of Those Times

This afternoon, around four o'clock, a tiny fragment of paradise came and settled in the front room. The Missus had cunningly baked some chocolate muffins and we were biting into them, two each, with understandable relish. A Mozart piano concerto was doing its thing - Number 24, the one in C Minor, with Murray Perahia tickling the ivories - and time just sort of stopped. I remember reading some stuff on Maslow - he of the Hierarchy of Need, I think they call it - when I was a teenager, relating to the notion of Peak Experiences, and being chuffed to realise that I was acquainted with these as actual events. I think the PE references came to me via that angry young man of the 1950s, Colin Wilson, who it turns out wasn't really angry at all and is now desperately unfashionable, but that's by the by. At the time I thought the PE notion was of great interest, and I still do.

Anyway, I reckon I had one this afternoon, and a very jolly thing it was.

(The Murray Perahia CD came as one of a set of five I picked up dirt cheap in KL when we were there last weekend. The keys to paradise come pretty cheap these days.)