I don't think we realise when we are happy. There are very few times I can recall actually taking stock and noting that at that precise moment I am feeling joyful - it's generally more of a retrospective thing, a state which we are able to reference by contrast to the times when we are feeling down. "Ah, remember when we went to that rock festival, got high and danced naked? Happy times....!", or "I was happier being a size 12 and having waistbands that didn't leave weals around my gut....", thereby implying that there is some contrast to our current emotional state.

You don't often stop and pause to think, do you, when you're having a fit of the giggles or celebrating a promotion or being congratulated on an academic achievement, 'Wow! I am REALLY happy right now!'? You just don't need to, they all accumulate into a super-pool of good vibrations to offset the troughs of negativity and plateaux of the mundane.

Opportunities to feel contentment, conversely, are ten-a penny. Having a massage or a bubbly bath, or feeling bloated and idle after a roast dinner is enough to leave me contented. More rare are the occasions when I am conscious of a sensation of 'bliss'....

Sublime happiness, the kind which overwhelms you, spreading smokily through your veins and reminding you in a warm soak of utter mental, emotional and physical satisfaction that life is good... Now physically speaking this is probably the manifestation of something terribly prosaic like a series of endorphin releases as a result of some external trigger, conscious or sub-conscious; but let's ignore the clinical for now and consider this in a more philosophical sense.

For a start, I think the point of bliss is to make itself known. To sneak up on you and force you to acknowledge it. "Hey! I'm really, really REALLY happy right now! Sheesh! Well fancy!" And also, in my humble-but-considered view, I think bliss is something hugely, intensely and probably exclusively personal. To the extent that - hypothesis alert! - I think one can really only ever experience bliss when one is alone. Now, snigger away if you think I'm referring to orgasm through masturbation or some chemically-induced high; I'm not. Although I wouldn't necessarily exclude those as elements which might contribute to a state of bliss . I mean, bliss is something that needs a long-enough timeslot in your life to make itself felt... and I think that probably only happens for most people when they are alone.

Maybe I'm missing out. Sure, there must be magical moments one experiences as a couple. Two beings in tune with the universe and all around them? I did once see a shooting star with my husband by my side, and it WAS a magical moment... but not what I would describe as 'blissful'. So. When can I say, hand on heart, that I have felt that supreme state? Let's see if this resonates with any of you. Here are some of the times I have felt, or am able to induce what I describe as bliss:

a) Being in woodlands in late autumn, winter, or early spring when it is gloomy, windy and noisy. I feel utterly safe, and yet totally exposed. The canopy above me is massive and swirling like a restless ocean;

b) Sitting at a bar with a cocktail in hand and watching other people; just observing their evening unravel and their interplay;

c) Dancing in a nightclub all by myself, probably very, very drunk, but feeling the music coursing through me, eyes closed, tasting the harmonies and living the rhythm, for one brief capsule of time, and resenting interruption by others (I mean, I KNOW that most dancing is about sex [and that's a whole other debate], but purleeease, do NOT come and grind up behind me in some animalistic tribal mockery of copulation. I'm experiencing bliss, here for goodness' sake!);

d) Lying on a beach under a warm-to-hot sun, with the sound of waves lapping gently somewhere close by, and feeling warm sand trickle between my toes;

e) As above but with a personal selection of music piped straight into my head via my ipod, my own personal gig on the beach;

f) Sitting in the back garden when the family are away, having a coffee or a drink, looking at the squirrels and jays, maybe smoking a cigarette, maybe thinking about the people I love who aren't with me right now.

I think I can characterise my most blissful moments in the following way:

1) I am alone but not necessarily by myself;

2) I am alone by choice;

3) My enjoyment of my surroundings is very, very simple; I am enjoying and observing simple things;

4) I am enjoying my surroundings via a combination of senses;

5) I have no sense of guilt.

Now I think this set of characteristics for my description of blissful times gives rise to some interesting observations. That I am comfortable being by myself; I am an only child and used to making my own entertainment and to experiencing protracted periods alone. I feel blessed by that. By contrast, I have a friend, S, who can't seem to be comfortable in her own skin and needs to seek companionship to make herself seem whole. I've never needed that and I pity her. Secondly, that I associate extreme happiness with choice, and by implication, that most precious of commodities - freedom. Granted, freedom takes on many forms. I appreciate them all. The freedom that comes from having money; the freedom of time; the freedom of not living under oppression or in captivity, not bound by dogma or social requirement. My personal bliss-time always recognises that the sensation exists only because I am not subject to restraint in any of these forms. Thirdly, that I am released, even if only temporarily, from guilt. Sometimes it takes alcohol to induce that state, sometimes it is being in the humbling bigness of the natural world, but either way I'm sure it is semi-hypnotic. I can only be truly happy when I am feeling no guilt.... and when I am in a blissful state, guiltiness is excluded, abjectly, from my being. No guilt about having this time alone. No guilt about having chosen this activity, not thinking about work, not thinking about family, particularly, or other commitments and responsibilities. Enjoying the strictly here-and-now, and having the perfection of the here-and-now brought home by my senses. I am alone; I am me; I am allowed to be these things. I am satisfied and I am happy.

So here's my question to you. When, if ever, have you experienced something more than happiness, satisfaction, achievement or contentment? The irrepressible kind that oozes through you and shouts out 'Happy, happy, happy!'? My wish for you is that you too have learned to find it in solitude.