Future shock

I always say I'd love to know exactly what the future will bring, so that instead of being thrown by some extraordinary turn of events, I'll know what's coming and I can plan for anything untoward.

I could get my affairs in order if I was about to die. I could prepare myself if some awful illness was about to strike. I could avoid that dodgy builder who seemed okay but would botch the job.

But if I'd known what my future held when I was young, would I have felt happier? Or would I have been so shocked by all the things that were coming my way (including all the horrors of the outside world), I'd be screaming like a banshee and wishing I'd never known what was in store?

If I'd known about the global pandemic, or the crazy American President, or the climate crisis, would I have been thoroughly downcast? Would I have wished I'd remained ignorant?

On the other hand, if I'd known I was going to meet the love of my life and we would spend many happy years together, if I'd known I would travel to all sorts of amazing places, if I'd known I would end up in a lovely detached house, would I have been cock-a-hoop? Would I have been looking forward to the future with enthusiasm?

Some people say that not knowing what the future holds is what makes life exciting. If we knew exactly what was going to happen, wouldn't life be rather dull and flat? We would have to introduce some artificial excitement like a bunch of exotic animals or some visiting Martians.

Of course, if we could all foretell the future, a lot of clairvoyants and tarot readers and fortune tellers would be out of a job.

Just do it

When I was young, self control and will power were highly valued. My parents were always telling me I should have more self control, that it would rid me of my scattiness, my impulsiveness, my over-eating, and a dozen other undesirable traits.

But self control seems to have gone out of fashion long ago. Who even talks about it? And who boasts about possessing it? Very few people.

There's a general assumption that self control is a relic of a bygone age, an age when people were so full of inhibitions they never had any fun, never "let go".

More and more, people are encouraged to just do whatever they want, whatever they feel comfortable with, go wherever the urge takes them. Get as angry as you like, as jealous as you like, as belligerent as you like. If that annoys or offends other people, too bad.

I see people doing exactly that and it's cringe-worthy. They get impossibly drunk. They shout at shop assistants. They jump queues. They chuck rubbish everywhere. They drive like maniacs. They spout outrageous opinions. They ignore all the virus restrictions.

I don't mind admitting that I have a lot of self control and will power and I see nothing wrong with that. I've acquired skills I wouldn't have acquired otherwise. I've made the most of my abilities and the opportunities I've been given. I've steered away from things that could do me harm, like dangerous drugs or binge-drinking. I don't feel like my life has been crushed in the process.

Perhaps the pendulum will finally swing back and people will conclude they've been a bit too free-and-easy, a bit too self-indulgent, and now is the time to rein it all in a bit.

Perhaps. But don't hold your breath.

A bit lacking

There's a general assumption that both extroversion and introversion are normal, natural tendencies, and that each are valuable in different ways. It's not the case that one is more normal or desirable than the other.

But is that so? I can't help feeling that extroverts are actually the exemplar, the ideal, and that introverts may have their strengths but in the last analysis are a bit short of the basic human traits - like self-confidence, friendliness, sociability and openness.

Isn't it only natural to be gregarious, to seek out other people, to be able to chatter freely to them? Isn't it natural to feel comfortable in other people's company, to enjoy getting to know them?

And isn't it a bit unnatural to want to keep to yourself and avoid other people? Surely we're all essentially social animals?

I know introversion is largely inherited, and your upbringing can only modify it to a limited extent, so in the end we introverts just have to "suck it up" and make the most of it.

Of course we justify our difference by saying we think things through better, we dream up important inventions, we produce wonderful art, we're good listeners, we're more observant etc etc. But that seems more like making the best of a bad job than a convincing defence.

In any case, extroverts can be all those things as well, they're just more talkative and more gregarious while they're at it.

I happily hype up my introversion for public consumption, but deep down I always feel a bit of a social duffer compared to all those outgoing chatterboxes who love to be surrounded by other people.

I feel like the little boy trying to learn to swim, while all around me seasoned swimmers are effortlessly ploughing through the water.

Puttering along

 

I'm grateful for the fact that Jenny and I have weathered the pandemic and the various lockdowns so successfully. There haven't been any big psychological or emotional traumas, and we've just puttered along comfortably.

That's not the case for many others who've found the pandemic hard to cope with and have been driven to unexpected extremes. They've divorced, or had affairs (or discovered them), or developed mental problems like anxiety or depression, or had violent arguments over housework or shopping - or just different attitudes to fighting the virus.

Of course it helps that Jenny and I are such a long-standing couple and have had plenty of time to adjust to each other's personalities and quirks and weaknesses. The pandemic is just another crisis we've adjusted to together. Therapists have noticed that long-standing couples are coping better with the pandemic than short-term couples.

Sometimes I miss the old freedoms we took for granted - going wherever we wanted, going to the cinema or art galleries or literary events, jetting off to some exciting destination - but most of the time I'm happy to hunker down with a good book or a glass of wine. After all, I've been retired for almost three years, so I'm used to amusing myself.

I'm also glad all this has happened now, when I can share the crisis with a partner in a big, warm house. If it had happened in the seventies, when I was living on my own in a bleak, freezing bedsit, I would probably have been very miserable. For a start, I wouldn't have had the internet to entertain me.

The only thing that worries me right now is, will I get my usual slap-up birthday meal at our favourite local restaurant, or will it still be closed? Will I have to make do with a mushroom pizza and a few swigs of pinot grigio? Time will tell.

Not for me

Sometimes I ask myself, what is the worst possible job I could have done? What would I have absolutely hated doing? What would I have been utterly unsuited for?

There are plenty of contenders, plenty of jobs where I would have been floundering desperately or totally humiliating myself or wondering why on earth I took the job. Or all three.

One thing I would hate to be right now is a police officer. They have a thankless job at the best of times, but in the midst of the pandemic they're being asked to do the impossible.

On top of all their existing tasks, they're expected to police all the new laws and restrictions and stop people from disobeying them. How on earth can they do that with a chronically under-funded police force and thousands of people determined to ignore all the restrictions and do whatever the hell they like?

But there are so many things that would stop me taking the job, however generous the salary. For example:

• Enforcing laws I don't necessarily agree with, like possessing drugs or producing obscene publications or being drunk and disorderly
• Facing violent opposition from bystanders like brick-throwing, kickings, or being pinned to the ground
• The widespread hostility towards the police, based more on blind prejudice than what the police are actually doing
• Being blamed for "heavy-handed" behaviour, when often the police are deliberately provoked by aggressive crowds

Of course the police can sometimes be their own worst enemies, picking on black people (and killing them), laying into peaceful demonstrators, stopping people for trivial offences, roughing up detainees and so on. But they do a very difficult job and have to contend with some extremely ugly situations.

Would I fancy joining the forces of law and order? Thanks but no thanks.

The good old days

Was life really better in "the good old days"? I don't think so, but it seems many people do. A survey a few years ago found that half of adults over 50 thought life in the past was preferable, while just 19 per cent opted for the present day.

Their reasons? Less traffic, longer-lasting products, a slower pace of life, more patience and consideration, no distracting internet, better TV shows and music, more community spirit, free university tuition, cheaper houses.

Yes, they mention all the things that were better, but what about all the things that were worse? Rampant sexism, homophobia and racism; plenty of sub-standard housing; deference to authority figures; freezing homes without central heating; hand-washed laundry; limited access to information prior to computers and search engines; far fewer university places. And no doubt other things I've forgotten about.

Perhaps what people really mean when they talk about the good old days is that modern life baffles and frightens them and they can't adjust to all the changes. Sure, there's a lot of problems, but they overlook all the good things - especially the internet and how it's made life easier in so many ways, and better treatment of women and minorities.

Certainly I don't see any "good old days" in my own life. My childhood was far from happy, and my early adult life was pretty discouraging - spartan bedsits, not much money, lots of disappointing dates, little contact with my family. It was only in my thirties that things started to look up.

I think the "good old days" are more a product of rose-tinted spectacles than an honest look at how life used to be. I for one wouldn't want a re-run of my early years and all their ordeals.

Apart from anything else, how would I have got by without all the delights of blogging?

Books galore

When does book collecting become book hoarding? When do you have a normal number of books and bookshelves, and when does it become abnormal? When does book-buying become such a wild compulsion that you no longer have enough bookshelves for them, and there are piles of books all over the floor?

People with absurd numbers of books (like tens of thousands) will justify them by saying they fully intend to read them all one day, or they're of sentimental value, or they can't bear to part with old favourites, or they're related to a particular interest (like hundreds of bird books).

Jenny and I have always kept our book stock to a modest level - about a thousand books at the last count - by aiming to discard as many books as we buy. This routine has served us well so far. Luckily there's a charity second-hand bookshop just down the road. so our abandoned books will find new readers. Of course we may simply be encouraging book hoarders to buy dozens of cheap second-hand books....

There's a temptation to acquire as many books as your home can accommodate. The first flats Jenny and I lived in were too small for large numbers of books, so we were more likely to "read and discard", but as we moved to bigger flats the need for a rapid recycling of books declined and they tended to linger.

We keep a lot of books on the basis that we're sure to re-read them some day, only to find that many of them never get re-read and just gather dust. Sooner or later our tastes change and that wonderful old book from ten years ago suddenly seems clunky and rambling and ready to be thrown out.

At least I don't buy books I know very well I'll never read, like Ulysses or War and Peace or In Search of Lost Time. That's a few less to worry about.