I have an addiction.
The atmosphere they give, the trance-like state they can put you in, the aroma some can give.
Candles are my weakness (and chocolate). Oh and candle-holders (but not chocolate candle-holders…)
Throw flowers into the mix too and I’m happily yours!
Mainly of the tea light variety.
However, in the main I find that they can be over-priced. Which is why whenever I see candles on offer (especially pretty ones or vanilla scented ones), I grab a stash.
So, finding myself with time for ‘me’, I went to our local garden centre cafe, armed with a book, chocolate(!) shortbread and a nice cup of herbal tea. After I sank myself into the nice, comfy seat and had my fill of reading, I meandered back towards the exit. En route, I stumbled upon a couple of stands declaring ‘half price’.
A rummage revealed boxes of pretty tealight holders. There were 16 of them going for 99p. I love the little inscription on some of them:
Smile. It’s the same in any language.
As if I needed any more persuasion, I grabbed the box and off I went with a big smile on my face (after paying obviously!)
When our little girl saw them, she read the ‘smile’ inscription and said, “is it really the same in any language?” To an extent of course it is, but I love her literal take on a profound quote.
The candle holders are now dotted randomly around our home, so our home is full of smiles 🙂
Do you like candles and other things pretty? Have you landed yourself a candle bargain? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below 🙂
*This post contains affiliate links which means that if you happen to purchase something from the link you click, I get to have a little happiness too, at no extra cost to you! 🙂
She sits there and scratches and scratches some more,
She’s clinging to hope til it’s almost red-raw,
Something’s under her skin and it’s itching away,
It’s burning, it’s yearning and it’s here to stay.
It won’t leave her alone, it keeps grabbing at her,
She can’t keep it away, it’s the feeling, the lure
The feeling of desperation to go back for more,
It’s got her into skin, right down to her core.
It gets under her nails, forever ingrained,
Etched as a sign to all she’s self-maimed,
The desperation, the hope, the frustration each day,
This scratchcard’s ‘the one’, she’s addicted to ‘play’…
By Carol Cameleon
The inspiration for this poem came after seeing a lady sitting outside a cafe, the look of desperation on her face as she worked her way through a handful of scratchcards she had on the table in front of her. It was a balance of probabilities that she would have a winning ticket – which she did. She popped into the shop next door to the cafe to get another, leaving her young child slumbering in the pushchair that was clearly too small for it. This is not a poem where I’m judging her… it’s a poem about making your own luck. You see, as much as I know about maths (which is not alot!), I do know that if you do enough of these things, you’re likely to win ‘something’ eventually… until your luck runs out and then it really gets under your skin…
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