I love hiccups. They bring me so much joy. One day I sat alone in a train carriage full of strangers and suppressed an embarassed giggle at every hiccup that sounded from my tired body. A kind soul offered me water, which I declined on account of my attempt to scare my hiccups away with aqua was unsuccessful. For fifty minutes I hicced and I upped and I tried not to disturb the blue collar brogues and the high class heels that surrounded me, though I was secretly amused.
I have come to realise that my hiccups are never timely. Just the other day, in the middle of a recording project my hiccups returned. In the safety of my own abode and by the side of my one and only I was able to let laughter roar. It was contagious. It was blissful and it was happy. I wish I had captured the episode on film or even caught the simple sound of the two of us laughing until our tummys ached. I love a good belly giggle, the really truly hearty kind that goes on and on.
I love hiccups.
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