Bokelskere.no

The charms of life are manifold, even for an eighty-six-year-old like me. If you will excuse my lecturing, I will expand a little: Yes, life brings pain and problems in droves (“battalions,” as Hamlet would say), but also, sometimes when you are on the very point of giving up, it delivers absolute delight. There may be surprises in the form of a grandson you suddenly discover you love, a group of scientists who care so much more than you thought, a girl who takes the trouble to understand. There may be revelations brought to you by a mass of stumpy, squalling birds. There may be new hope suddenly sprouting up in a heart that was convinced all humanity was bad, a heart that had grown sick of the world.
Life can be generous. It can heal the heart and whisper that it’s always possible to start again, never too late to make a difference. It asserts that there are many, many things worth living for. And one of those things—one of the most unexpectedly joyful things of all—is penguins.

Granny and I have one thing in common, at least. We’re both nuts about penguins. I never used to give penguins much thought, to be honest, but now all that’s changed. What is it about penguins? I don’t know if it’s their human characteristics or their quirky birdiness, but watching them is a total therapy. They make me laugh. They make me kind of mushy inside. They’re so small but they’re brimming with life. It’s a beautiful thing.

When a cannonball of a young penguin propels himself onto your prostrate body and stares into your face with glittering eyes, you stop whatever you are doing for a moment, even if what you are doing is dying.

I’m sure he spoke. Or maybe he didn’t speak? No, there weren’t any actual words out loud. Perhaps he spoke with his eyes. Yes, I think that’s it. How very curious . . . I am beginning to realize a penguin’s eyes can tell you many things if only you are willing to listen.

Pip has bulked out a lot, as you’ll see, and now he weighs 1,700 g. He is a keen explorer and likes to discover new places to sleep. His latest is a wastepaper basket . . .