‘My apology, my little bit of penitence, for having grumbled so much, for having darkened the breakfast table, almost ruined the lunch, nearly silence the dinner party, for all the fretting and chafing, grousing and croaking, for the old glum look and the thrust-out lower lip. So my long-suffering kinsfolk, my patient friends, may a glimmer of that delight which has so often possessed me, but perhaps too frequently in secret, now reach you from these pages.’

There are times when there doesn’t seem much to smile about. And for those times, there is this book. J. B Priestley’s 1949 classic teaches us that joy may be found in even the simplest things, and that we all have the capacity to appreciate them.

Delight comprises a series of short essays, all focussing on a single simple pleasure, from reading detective stories in bed to smoking a pipe in the bath; from ‘Cosy planning’ to the earliest summer mornings; and from mineral water in the bedrooms of foreign hotels to the smell of bacon in the morning.

Combining poignant memories of his childhood with glimpses of his interior world, panoramas of life abroad with thoughts about writing, music, theatre – some strictly personal, some universal –this joy of a book bursts with humour and literary flare on every page.