An old mate of mine, Professor Michael Argyle, was a distinguished expert on the psychology of happiness, working on the subject throughout his academic career at Oxford. But his summery answer to the question of how to be happy was refreshingly non-academic: "Scottish country dancing." For dancing, it seems, has about it a great many of the features of the happy life – not least, relationships, sex, exercise, and music.
A recent survey by the Office for National Statistics revealed that three-quarters of us are reasonably happy. I say "us" – though I find it hard to believe that three-quarters of the people I know are happy. That may be because mid 40s males living in London come out as some of the most unhappy. But so what. I can't be all that bothered with happiness. In fact, I find the aggressive pressure to be happy all rather tiresome. "Have a great day," insists the friendly woman on the checkout. But is she having a great day? Really? Indeed, I wonder whether all the upbeat rhetoric of happiness is often just one big conspiracy to avoid what can feel like an admission of failure – that, for many of us, life is bloody hard.
I'm sure there are genuinely happy people. And good luck to them. But evangelism for various brands of feelgood quackery does little to convert the miserable. In fact, it can easily leave us feeling even more isolated. But we are not alone. One of the great privileges of being a priest is that one is frequently allowed access into other people's inner world. And that world is commonly a million miles away from how they present themselves – even, I suspect, to a polling organisation. I guess pretending is how many of us get through the day. But sometimes its just worth pushing back against the claustrophobic conformity to sunny up-speak. So no. Thank you for asking. But I'm not having a great day. And no, I'm not interested in doing the Brigadoon either.