The Joy of Small Things | Writing Competition

Jasmine receiving her certificate for winning a mini essay competition.

In 1949, J. B. Priestley penned his selection of miniature essays and had them published under the title ‘Delight’. Each ‘mini-essay’ extolled the virtues and pleasures of the little, everyday things that buoyed him and gave him, well, delight. More recently, Hannah Jane Parkinson published a similar collection to bring this idea up to date with her collection of essays called ‘The Joy of Small Things’. The experiences are numerous: clean bedding, a Sunday roast, petting cats, the perfect dressing gown, mint, cancelled plans, favourite songs on shuffle, trainers, the sound of sports, being inside when it’s raining, the smell of wood, overhearing, perfect pens, travelling light, an open fire. The contents pages in both books extend to five pages: there is something for everyone and plenty to spark conversation and establish a mutual joy over.

So often, our world, in a global sense, and in the most personal sense, is fraught with conflict and division. We obsess over difference; conflict is streamed to us and we are notified on an ever increasing basis of the things that separate us. On our phones we find ourselves ‘doomscrolling’, our national conversations through the media tend to polarise and enflame debate, social media can give us our very own echo chambers where narrow views can be promoted and proliferate. But these very modes of communication can also give meaningful, fun and moving opportunities for connection. And this is why, in this last term of the year, we asked students to write not about death, violence, horror and gore, but about what gives them joy.

Hearteningly, many students rose to the occasion thoughtfully and produced some sparkling and inclusive mini-essays themselves. The competition was open and the entries came flooding in. Listed below are the winners and runners-up for their ‘The Joy of Small Things’ mini-essays. The reading of these was no small joy in itself. Congratulations must go to:

KS3 Winner: Jasmine (Year 8).

Runners-up: Gigi and Samuel (Year 7).

KS4 Winner: Florence (Year 10).

Runner-up: Jenna (Year 10).

The following piece is by the winner of the KS3 section, Jasmine.

Candles Don’t you just love to sit in a warm, cosy room, snuggled up in bed with scented candles burning softly all around you, watching the flames dance like golden wreathed acrobats? The sweet, mellow aroma of unexplored lands, tropical jungles and wildflower meadows envelops you in a tender hug. It’s like you’re a baby once more, wrapped up in your mothers loving embrace. There’s nothing better. Nothing gives me more delight than walking into a room that has recently been acquainted with burning, scented candles. It’s like stepping into another world; dunking your head in a bucket of ice cream; entering a paradise. The gentle fingers of incense beckon you closer and you feel as light as a petal. The weight lifts off your shoulders. Sunshine fills the room. The world smiles. If I could bottle that feeling and get drunk on it every night, I would. We all know what it’s like to feel down. It’s an intermittent part of our lives. But when you find that one thing that can bring you back out of that dark well, it’s like nothing can ever be wrong again. Your spirits lift like a wick catching flame. Candles don’t even have to be burning to make me happy. I love just picking them up and burying my nose in them, feeling their silky-smooth wax kissing my skin like a breath of wind. When I inhale their heavenly perfume, I feel magic rushing through my veins, seeping into my blood. I become blessed. Even blowing a candle out enlightens my spirit. I do hate to see the flame go, to close the door on an old friend, but what comes after is just as beautiful. Smoke. Those whispering tendrils of novelty never fail to beguile me. Their elegant bodies tumble and turn like autumn leaves caught on a peaceful wind. Their lithe forms waltz and sway like dancers entwined in a gentle minuet on the ballroom floor. Their graceful figures curl and coil like a warm hand beckoning you into a cosy, fire-lit, sofa-filled, sitting-room. When the wisps disperse like vanishing fairies, I always wish they would come back. I could watch them all day long. According to Google, candles symbolise light in the darkness, hope and illumination. I completely agree with this. Candles are my raft on a treacherous river, my harness on a climbing wall. They make me smile.
Jasmine
Year 8 Student