Better or worse?

We’re fond of saying that life is better now than it was X decades ago, and aren’t we lucky to be living today? But are we?
 
I’ve always rejected nostalgia on the basis that it idealises the past and overlooks all the things we disliked.
 
But when I look back at the sixties and seventies, when I was growing up, actually a lot of things were better than they are now.
 
Everything was a lot simpler. Instead of having to navigate complicated and frustrating websites, you could ring someone up and they’d help you out. Rents were more affordable. There were more jobs available. Salaries were higher. You didn’t need dozens of passwords and login details. You didn’t have to worry about scams and cyber attacks.
 
People say, but what about all the racism and sexism and homophobia? There’s a lot less of all that than there used to be. Well, yes, they’ve declined but they’re still very evident. If anything misogyny is on the increase, with social media full of the most horrendous abuse and hatred.
 
I doubt if many of today’s young people would say life is better than it used to be. They’re having to negotiate very tough circumstances, and their mental health is suffering. Nostalgia is totally understandable.

Giddily elated

The latest controversy to involve the Royal Family is a splendid example of how irresponsible and sensationalist the media can be.
 
We’re told that in an excerpt from his new book, Diana’s brother Earl Spencer claims that after Diana’s death Prince Charles seemed “giddily elated”, sounded like a lottery winner and said “We’ll forget her soon enough”.
 
Apparently this was part of a conversation that Earl Spencer had almost thirty years ago. Can a thirty-year-old memory really be reliable?
 
This damaging claim has been splashed all over the media as if it’s the truth, but nobody has confirmed his account and the media aren’t pointing out that it’s highly contentious and possibly total nonsense.
 
Presumably the media are splashing this dubious accusation because they know their readers love this sort of wild gossip, especially if it concerns the Royal Family. Personally I have no time for the Royal Family but I don’t see why they should be subjected to such casual slander.
 
People may say Oh, but if you’re a member of the Royal Family you have to expect abuse and vilification and you just have to suck it up. Well, I disagree.

Willing recruits

A lot of the world’s conflicts could be ended quite quickly if it wasn’t for all the willing recruits who for one reason or another are prepared to join up and fight.

Why are they willing to sign up? Why are they ready to be cannon-fodder, ready to risk their lives for some dubious objective?

All sorts of reasons are given for joining up. It’s their patriotic duty, it’s an important cause, it’ll make a man of them, they’ll be looked after, and so on.

I’m very thankful I was born too late to be conscripted. I would almost certainly have been a conscientious objector.

Even if they aren’t killed, they could end up seriously disabled and unable to enjoy life as they used to do. What can be worth that outcome?

Over half a million Russians have died in the cause of territorial expansion. Just think of all the grieving families they leave behind.

Furthermore a lot of veterans are virtually ignored after “serving their country”. They can no longer get the support they need but are left to rebuild their lives as best they can. They feel neglected and discarded. It's shameful.

Pants are okay

A victory for common sense etc. After the education minister had resisted the change for many months, girls in Northern Ireland schools are finally being allowed to wear trousers. The change will start from the next academic year.

It’s extraordinary that it’s taken so long to introduce a such a basic option, with politicians offering all sorts of dubious reasons for insisting on skirts.

I took part in the consultation on whether trousers should be permitted, and of course  I said that trousers are more practical in a number of ways.
 
Apart from anything else it should cut down on unwanted male attention, not just in school but outside.
 
Women’s clothes are subjected to constant comment, often negative, while men’s clothes attract much less scrutiny.
 
It’s amusing to imagine a reverse situation in which men had to wear skirts, and how angry they would get with any salacious reactions. They would soon be lobbying for a change in the dress code.

Ripped off

I knew that people habitually steal items from restaurants, but I had no idea it happened on such a huge scale.
 
Just about anything in a restaurant will be stolen sooner or later – cutlery, cups, glassware, plates, salt and pepper shakers, condiment bottles, soaps and lotions. Even tips left on tables can be stolen.
 
Well, Jenny and I are scrupulously honest and never steal anything. Partly because we would feel so deceitful and partly because we know restaurants operate on very tight margins and could do without the cost of replacements.
 
Why are people happy to indulge in such petty theft as if it’s the most normal thing in the world? They can easily afford to buy what they’re stealing so why steal? Do they just like the frisson of doing something they shouldn’t?
 
Not to mention the “dine and dash” types who have a hearty meal and then sneak out of the restaurant without paying. No doubt they entertain their friends with stories of how they got the better of extortionate prices. No doubt they could easily swallow the prices but fancy the cheap thrill of ripping someone off and being five-minute rebels.
 
No, I’m not being sanctimonious. Just a decent citizen.

People I admire

There are people I loathe. There are people I find baffling. There are people I don’t want anything to do with. But how about people I admire? For example:

• Greta Thunberg, for constantly stressing the need for urgent action over climate change.
• David Attenborough ditto. And at the age of one hundred!
• J K Rowling, for challenging the idea of sex changes and self-declared sexual identity.
• Surgeons, who perform the most hair-raising procedures every day.
• Nurses, for providing such excellent care for all the thousands of patients they come in contact with.
• Emergency workers in general who often work in very dangerous circumstances.
• Hannah Spencer MP for challenging alcohol-fuelled law-making in the House of Commons.
• Bonnie Raitt, for her always enjoyable music that goes back 55 years.
• Jess Philips MP for campaigning against misogyny and male violence.
• Malala Yousafzai, who was shot in the head by the Taliban in Pakistan for campaigning for girls’ education.
• Sir Tim Berners-Lee, who invented the World Wide Web.

There are no doubt many others whose names escape me just now. I’m sure you can suggest a few I’ve forgotten.

Pessimist moi?

Jenny (who’s a confirmed optimist) thinks I’m a pessimist because I seem to pay more attention to bad news than good news, and I tend to conjure up doomy scenarios.
 
I don’t think I’m a pessimist at all. If I pay more attention to bad news it’s because firstly it’s more dramatic and secondly I want to know what caused the bad news – the train crash or the botched operation or whatever.
 
If I think for example that the Prime Minister isn’t up to the job, that doesn’t strike me as pessimism but just a random opinion.
 
I don’t routinely think everything around me is going to end badly. I can just as well believe something will end well. Like a house purchase or an airline flight (I’ve never been afraid of flying).
 
But it’s hard not to be pessimistic when what’s happening around the world is so dreadful. I have to search hard for genuinely positive news.
 
In any case what others would call pessimistic, I just think of as pointing out reality. Should I refrain from mentioning something because it makes me look gloomy?

Noise mongers

There are proposals to crack down on people playing loud music and videos without headphones on UK public transport, as other passengers find it disturbing and inconsiderate.

I can’t say I’m especially bothered by loud noise on trains and buses, although I’d rather not have to listen to music I personally dislike.
 
In fact most passengers on public transport here in Northern Ireland are actually quite considerate and do wear headphones or keep the noise level down.
 
There are certainly more important things to complain about than noise mongers. Like buses that come late or not at all. Like buses with no luggage racks. Like the deterioration of public services generally.
 
What does annoy me is restaurants that aren’t designed to dampen conversations, so you have to virtually shout to make yourself heard against all the prevailing chatter.
 
Also of course the background musak that assaults you in so many restaurants, shops and other places. Polls say the majority of customers would prefer silence but for some reason they’re ignored and the music blares on regardless.

Is it real?

Much controversy over a TV programme on ADHD that suggested it isn’t a bona fide mental disorder but a “social construct” that isn’t real.
 
Neurologists and psychiatrists immediately weighed in to say yes of course it’s real and there’s plenty of evidence to back that up.
 
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder is defined as a disorder marked by persistent symptoms of inattention, restlessness, forgetfulness and impulsivity (among other things).
 
By that definition I could almost have ADHD myself. I can certainly claim inattention, restlessness and forgetfulness. I’m very scatterbrained and find it hard to concentrate totally on what I’m reading or listening to. But there are other symptoms that don’t apply at all, so I have a sort of semi-ADHD.
 
But neurologists are puzzled as to why ADHD seems to be on the increase. Given all the possible symptoms (at least a dozen) I guess it could easily be diagnosed when like me someone has a fair number of the symptoms but not by any means all of them. Does it to some extent depend on a subjective assessment rather than clear clinical guidelines?
 
I guess this debate will run and run.

Hot and bothered

So there I was getting all worked up over a story about crazy Harry Potter fans making ridiculous demands, only to find that the story had been denounced as wholly fictitious.

The story was that a new power cable linking the UK national grid to Ireland had to be diverted because it was due to pass under the grave of a Harry Potter character, namely Dobby, the fictitious elf.

The construction company supposedly got hundreds of calls demanding the cable be rerouted to avoid “desecrating” the supposed grave.

I wondered straightaway if the story was genuine, because it was so far-fetched, but I couldn't find any correction anywhere. It appeared in several mainstream sources (BBC, Guardian, CNN, Irish Times etc), and was so full of convincing details (even naming the project manager) that I swallowed my doubts and ran with it.

And was totally fooled. Oh well, somebody must be laughing themselves stupid over how many people were taken in.

Privacy

People have very different attitudes to privacy, don’t they? Some take elaborate measures to avoid being subject to the slightest scrutiny, others couldn’t care less how much attention they attract.
 
Its common in Northern Ireland for people to keep their window blinds down permanently so nobody can see into their house. They also like huge hedges for the same reason. We had some old window blinds removed because we don’t care if people look into our windows. What harm is it going to do?
 
As for personal privacy, both Jenny and I prefer to use the bathroom in private without the other barging in. I know a lot of couples are quite happy to be intruded on but we’re not one of them.
 
There’s a lot of fuss about websites that harvest our personal data, but personally I can’t see what the problem is. I’m sure hundreds of websites have my personal data but so what? What interest can anyone possibly have in my utterly humdrum existence? It would be different if I had loads of pornography or bomb-making guides.
 
People can get a bit paranoid about privacy for no good reason.

Liverpool

So Jenny and I were in Liverpool for a few days, partly because we like Liverpool – the architecture, the river Mersey, the dockside – and partly to catch up with two old friends from Chester.
 
Of course there were one or two glitches and annoyances along the way, but travelling is never trouble-free.
 
We discovered that our hotel didn’t have air conditioning because that might have spoilt what was a grand old listed building. Luckily it wasn’t too hot and we had a good fan and also windows that opened.
 
Several museums and galleries were closed simultaneously for updating, which must have disappointed an awful lot of tourists. Why did they all have to be closed at once?
 
It was Beatles overkill, much more than on our previous visit. Everywhere we went there were references to the Beatles and Beatles-related merchandise – even Fab Four cafes. Are there not other famous people who’re associated with Liverpool?
 
I was bothered by a bit of back ache, which meant I couldn’t stand or walk around for too long, but that didn’t stop me enjoying things. I’m happy to say Liverpool hasn’t lost its appeal.

                                                       Taking a short break -  back soon

Needing water

About half of England is suffering a severe drought, brought about by a drastic decline in rainfall.
 
Northern Ireland has plenty of water, but large parts of England are dry as a bone with water in reservoirs at much lower levels than normal.
 
People are using water faster than it can be replenished. Some parts of Devon haven't had any rain for 50 consecutive days. England has had only 7 per cent of the expected rainfall in July. Some 40 per cent of the English population are under a hosepipe ban.
 
Farmers are especially concerned that they might run out of water and their crops will be affected.
 
It has been known for a long time that unrepaired leaky water pipes are wasting huge amounts of water, but little is done to seal the pipes.
 
Along with a water shortage, people in England are facing extreme heat waves that are hard to cope with. Companies are being urged to give their employees time off when it’s simply impossible to work because of the heat.
 
I imagine the USA is in a similar situation, but not as bad as England.

Do I remember?

How come some people have phenomenal memories while others (like me) have terrible memories?
 
Jenny has a remarkable memory and can remember things in enormous detail, even things that happened years and years ago. She can remember the exact words that someone used and even what clothes they were wearing.
 
I on the other hand can forget stuff rapidly, and Jenny often reminds me of things we’ve done and said and people we’ve met, things that have long vanished from my memory.
 
I would be hard put to remember a conversation I had with someone a week ago, while Jenny could recall it easily.
 
It’s all very embarrassing. Rather than admit my hopeless memory, it’s tempting to pretend I remember what someone is referring to, when actually I have no idea what they’re talking about.
 
Apart from anything else, being able to remember things in minute detail must greatly enhance your daily life, while huge lapses in memory mean I’m always in a kind of fog that limits my enjoyment.
 
I can at least remember the really big events in my life, which haven’t yet faded away. So all is not lost.

Just suppose....

It’s a good job we can’t read each other’s minds. The consequences of such total openness would be pretty mortifying.
 
Just imagine if other people knew who I despised or what crime I was about to commit or who I had a massive crush on or how often I was drunk-driving. All those things I was carefully hiding were suddenly on full display, out there for the world to see.
 
And vice versa of course, I could read other people’s minds and know all the dodgy things they were up to. I would know my next-door neighbour was defrauding the company he worked for or had just done a hit-and-run.
 
It would make life better in some ways. If someone was planning a crime, we’d know about it and they could be stopped. Our loved ones would know how much love and affection we had for them. People would know all the things I had in common with them and we could make new friends.
 
People couldn’t lie so easily as we would know straightaway they weren’t telling the truth, and there would be a sudden outbreak of honesty. That’s something that would take a lot of getting used to.

Data dilemma

Northern Ireland only has a few small uncontroversial data centres, but in other parts of Britain there are giant data centres that are attracting strong opposition.
 
The complaints are getting more frequent and more critical – of constant noise, rising utility bills, massive consumption of electricity and water, and air pollution.
 
But few people are joining the dots here. It seems to have escaped most people’s attention that everything we do on the internet uses data centres, so we actually need more and more of them, and if local resistance makes building them difficult or even impossible we have a major problem.
 
Most of us use smart phones. Most of us use a variety of online services. Most of us use the internet heavily. What would happen if construction of data centres couldn’t keep up with demand?
 
It would be impossible to limit people’s use of the internet, as we’re now so highly dependent on it.
 
But I haven’t seen any journalist considering what would happen if the supply of data centres was lagging behind the volume of internet use. It’s assumed that data centres will keep multiplying and multiplying as needed. Which is a big assumption.

PS: New York has banned construction of data centres using 50 megawatts or more for one year

Pic: A data centre in the Netherlands

A summer scam

I’ve had several scam adverts recently for supposedly ground-breaking air conditioners.
 
The ads are very professionally put together and could easily fool a lot of people. There aren’t the usual typos and grammatical errors and dubious email addresses. The air conditioners are said to be super-effective. They’re about the size of a bread bin, you just plug them into a power socket and hey presto, the room is cool in about 60 seconds.
 
A lot of Brits could be the ideal customers for them, with UK temperatures soaring into the thirties Celsius, and few homes having air conditioning already. Around 90 per cent of USA households have air conditioning, while the figure for UK homes is only around 15 per cent. The USA has long ago assumed scorching summers and provided for them.
 
But one golden rule for detecting scams is that if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is.
 
Up to now our house hasn’t needed air conditioning because it stays fairly cool in summer temperatures that are usually no higher than the twenties Celsius. But with climate breakdown pushing temperatures up, air conditioning might become a necessity in a few years’ time.

If only

I’m a confirmed oddball. Most of my opinions are way outside the mainstream. Which can make life uncomfortable and make it hard to connect with other people. They want to pin me down but they aren’t able to.
 
So there’s always this lingering feeling that if I could just be “normal” life would be a lot easier. I’d have more in common with other people and I’d have a much smoother ride.
 
Utter nonsense of course. Firstly, what the hell is “normal”? According to who? By what definition? I’m chasing after something as slippery as an eel.
 
Secondly, who says being “normal” is any easier than being an oddball? We all have our fair share of disasters and tragedies whatever our personality. If I imagine some blissful scenario where I just sail effortlessly through life, I’m sure I would be sadly disappointed.
 
But I suppose we all imagine some ideal world where our personal failings and quirks are magically discarded and suddenly life is a bowl of cherries.
 
It ain’t going to happen.

Rethinking the future

When I was young, like many youngsters, I didn’t give much thought to my old age and whether I would be financially comfortable or desperately poor.
 
Old age seemed such a long way off, it didn’t seem worth thinking about. I suppose I assumed that however my life panned out, everything would be fine. If it wasn’t, the welfare state would help me out. I certainly wouldn’t be living on the streets.
 
But things have changed so drastically since then that more and more youngsters are giving serious thought to their old age and what it will be like.
 
With more and more old people and fewer and fewer births, the state will struggle to  help oldies and may have to rethink or even scrap its current provisions – welfare benefits, the NHS, the state pension, travel passes, winter fuel payments, free prescriptions and more.
 
A lot of youngsters are now thinking seriously about providing for their old age. They’re setting up personal pensions, making investments, buying property if they can afford to, living with their parents so as to add to their savings. They’re less likely to be as cavalier about the future as the young me and my age group.
 
But how shocking it is that young people can no longer assume that if all else fails the state will ensure their old age is comfortable and they don’t have to rely entirely on their own resources. What an unnecessary burden that would be.

Feeling the heat

The current unprecedented heatwave in Britain is having unforeseen consequences – especially for the NHS.
 
The extreme heat (up to 40C) is causing computers and other machines to collapse and making the existing NHS crisis a whole lot worse.
 
The heat is knocking out a wide range of equipment - MRI scanners, radiotherapy machines, other machines used to treat cancer, diagnostic facilities, operating theatres, various IT systems, other electrical equipment.
 
On top of that health workers are struggling to do their jobs after several sleep-deprived nights caused by the heat and in some cases hospitals with broken-down air conditioning.
 
As a result of the equipment failures, many consultations, operations and treatment sessions are having to be cancelled.
 
And this is only June. Presumably there will be equally extreme heatwaves in July and August.
 
Fortunately Northern Ireland is not much affected because temperatures here are much lower than in the rest of the UK – possibly reaching the upper twenties. So although we’re sweltering we’re not completely wiped out by the heat.
 
Jenny and I are glad we’re not living in London any more. It looks like the temperatures there are pretty unbearable.
 
PS: Some London pavements have reached 57C.

Chasing power

Why do people want power? What’s the big attraction? I’ve never understood why someone would want what’s obviously a poisoned chalice.
 
You may think you can have a lot more control over your life, but in many ways you have less control. People will criticise you, abuse you, belittle you, want things from you. Your every move is scrutinised and judged. You may have responsibility for hundreds or even thousands of people and one fatal mistake can have awful consequences.
 
Who needs it? I’m more than content to have no power at all but simply to enjoy my life. I’m happy to be an anonymous powerless nobody.
 
But for some people power is their big goal in life, something they can’t get enough of, something that justifies any sort of mean or malicious behaviour – like  sabotaging anyone who’s their rival for power.
 
It’s sad to see people who have gained power wanting to hang on to it indefinitely. They become addicted to being flattered and fawned over, and the prospect of once again being nobody in particular terrifies them.
 
Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

London

So….Jenny and I were in London for a week. We stayed at the Premier Inn County Hall, just across the river from the Houses of Parliament. A lovely hotel with friendly and welcoming staff – and huge breakfasts.
 
Some random impressions from the week:
 
·         London wasn’t as costly as we thought – except for the tiny flapjack costing £5 at the National Gallery
·         Every café and restaurant we went to asked us whether we had any allergies
·         I saw several men with painted fingernails
·         I revisited Watkins Bookshop, the first bookshop I worked in 53 years ago
·         We came across lots of school outings, some of them having a good look at the art galleries
·         We visited seven art galleries altogether (Tate Modern twice because it’s so huge)
·         We saw the Covid memorial wall opposite the Houses of Parliament with all its thousands of hearts remembering people who died
·         We met up with an old school friend of Jenny’s and her husband
 
Unfortunately I had a bit of back pain, which took the edge off my enjoyment a bit, but I was determined to keep to our art itinerary and not abandon anything. All in all a very worthwhile and stimulating week.

A short break

I'm off gallivanting. See you again soon.

Me in Edinburgh 2024

Too gullible

Why are people so ready to believe misinformation? Why aren’t people more critical of information that is obviously dubious or far-fetched or not confirmed by anyone?
 
Thousands of people were willing to believe that a certain woman police officer was responsible for arresting a man who was bleeding to death rather than asking for medical attention (the man was Henry Nowak in December 2025).

In fact the woman police officer had nothing whatever to do with Henry Nowak’s death and had actually retired from the police force 18 months earlier. But that didn’t stop gullible people from falsely identifying Christi Hill and turning her life upside down.
 
She has had to flee her home and move to a safe house elsewhere to escape the vicious abuse that has rained down on her since she was falsely accused. No doubt, as often happens, the misinformation will continue despite the denials and her life will be in constant turmoil.
 
Personally I check news items very carefully if they look in any way dodgy. If they don’t make sense, if they seem highly unlikely, and if there’s no other news source corroborating the story, I give them a wide berth and I don’t bother to comment.
 
There are enough true stories to assimilate without wasting energy on the bogus.

Pic: Christi Hill

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There was anti-immigrant rioting just outside Belfast city centre last night (Tuesday). It didn't affect us as we're about two miles away from the riot area. But it must have been terrifying for any immigrants.

A mellow fellow

The cliché (and the research) has it that people mellow as they get older, but I haven’t seen much evidence of it. I can think of many older people who if anything have become more acerbic.

Politicians especially can get less mellow and double down on their entrenched opinions rather than modify them. But lots of public figures are equally hard-line, not to mention one’s own elderly relatives who often become more vituperative rather than less.

Certainly my father got less mellow rather than more. He would fume and rage for days over all sorts of things. My mother on the other hand tended to be naturally mellow and take everything in her stride.
 
I think I’ve got mellower as I’ve aged. I don’t get so worked up over global events or neighbourhood disputes or difficult individuals as I used to. I tend to shrug my shoulders and leave others to make a fuss.
 
But I’ve always been somewhat mellow. Even when I was at school I never aligned myself with the boys who enjoyed making fun of their schoolmates or taunting the masters. I always felt for the victims and stayed well out of it.

The world could certainly do with a lot more mellowness and a lot less belligerence.

Body shaming

There seems to be no end to the epidemic of body-shaming and anti-fat abuse. People feel entitled to criticise other people’s physical appearance as much as they like.

Men are less likely to be criticised than women, even men with huge beer bellies, which are very common in Northern Ireland.
 
But women are castigated for any number of supposed physical faults – being fat, being too thin, being ugly, being badly dressed, being dowdy, you name it.
 
Luckily I’ve never been criticised for being fat, as I’ve always been thin and if anything I’m underweight. Being constantly reprimanded for being fat must be infuriating.
 
There’s a general assumption that a woman is fat because she eats too much, though of course that’s not necessarily the case. But the critics don’t care about the actual causes, they just want to be viciously judgmental.
 
There’s also an assumption that a fat woman is less intelligent than a thin woman, which is equally absurd.
 
I admire those women who don’t care over-much how they’re seen by others and just carry on regardless. It takes a lot of determination and self-confidence when other people (mainly men but not always) are happily picking holes in you.

Can't cope

It’s a platitude that after losing a partner women are more practical than men and usually cope quite well with being on their own, while many men can’t cope at all and are totally thrown.
 
Many men are so used to living with a woman who organises the house, does all the cooking and domestic tasks, and maintains friendships, that without her they are all at sea.
 
They fall into complete squalor, let the house fall into disrepair, don’t do enough washing and cleaning, and are generally unable to cope. Some men sink into such despair they end up committing suicide.
 
Apparently many older men who use dating sites aren’t looking for love but are really looking for a housekeeper, someone to organise their life for them.
 
I guess the underlying reason for this difference between men and women is the way boys and girls are brought up. Girls are encouraged to learn domestic and socialising skills while boys are taught that they needn’t bother.
 
I wonder how I would cope if Jenny died. Would I be one of those men who sink into squalor, or would I get along just fine? Hopefully the latter.

Always a rebel

I’m very much the odd one out in our family. The others are pretty conventional while I’m the fiery radical.
 
My parents were conservative as are my sister and brother in law. How I came to be the exception is interesting.
 
When I was at boarding school one of the boys lent me the Communist Manifesto. I read it and thought, this makes a lot of sense, why are some people horrified by it? After I left school London was in the grip of hippyism and everyone was questioning everything left, right and centre. So naturally I started questioning everything I had been brought up to believe.
 
I questioned a lot of the things my father believed, which he hated. He actually stopped speaking to me.
 
Later on I spent several years in a left-wing bookshop in London (now closed unfortunately) and picked up more progressive ideas.
 
It’s commonplace for people to become more conservative as they grow older, but I’ve done the opposite and grown more radical. I suppose I’m acutely aware of all the misery and horror in the world and I just want everyone to have a decent life. Is that too much to ask?

High rise

High-rise tower blocks are seen as quite normal, however high and however they dominate their immediate surroundings. Nobody thinks twice about all the skyscrapers in New York or London.
 
But should they be seen as normal or as something a bit unnatural, something that should be challenged rather than accepted?
 
Mick Jagger and a bunch of other celebs have won their battle to prevent a 29-storey high-rise near Battersea Bridge in London. After fighting the proposal for two years, it has been rejected by a government planning inspector.
 
The inspector ruled that the tower block would be detrimental to the appearance of the area, being taller and bulkier than other existing buildings.
 
I’ve always taken tower blocks for granted myself, but on reflection there are several things wrong with them. They block views from nearby buildings, children have no yard or garden to play in, they need lifts which often break down, and they need elaborate fire control measures to prevent another towering inferno like Grenfell Tower, London, in 2017.
 
Of course the main reason why developers build tower blocks is because they’re highly profitable. They’re not scenic, they’re not interesting architecture, if truth be told they’re actually rather ugly.

PS: I've said before that I wouldn't live anywhere higher than a third floor. Any higher than that and I'd always be worried about a possible disaster and not being able to get out of the building.

Bled dry

It’s common knowledge that health care in the States can be so ruinously expensive that people regularly go bankrupt trying to pay the bills.
 
It’s not so well-known that care homes in Britain are also ruinously expensive and people unlucky enough to need one can also end up bankrupt from the scale of the charges.
 
My mum was in a care home for nine months in 2018 and was paying around £3000 a month. I gather the charge nowadays could be around £1300 a week or £1500 if nursing care is included.
 
That staggering figure soon mounts up. For nine months now she could have been paying over £50,000 ($68,000). How many people have that kind of money to spare? Her local authority could have offered her some financial help but it would be far below what she needed.
 
I look enviously at Sweden, where social care for oldies is provided automatically and comprehensively by the state. Why can’t social care in Britain be provided on the same basis? Obviously it should be part of the national health service.
 
Meanwhile if granny needs long-term care, it could bleed you dry.

Getting old

According to a survey of 2000 people, some youngsters think old age begins at 53. Seriously? How do they work that out? Annoyingly, there is no explanation of this odd figure.
 
I would say old age begins around 75. That was then I started to get various aches and pains I hadn’t had before and when my physical energy started to decline. Before that I didn’t feel any older than someone of 40.
 
Oldies who were also included in the survey thought like me that old age begins at 75. That’s more like it.
 
But 53? How come? Maybe they’re not saying that 53 year olds are actually old and decrepit but just that they’re showing the early signs of old age. They’re set in their ways or slowing down a bit or can’t hear properly.
 
At 53 I was not only fit and healthy but I had just moved from London to Belfast. Very adventurous for someone who was supposedly entering old age.

These odd-thinking youngsters need to talk to a few more oldies to get better informed about ageing.

The roots of hatred

Hearing all the news reports about the wave of anti-semitic attacks in Britain, I can’t help wondering what it is that causes people to hate other people, and hate them so viciously and relentlessly.
 
Is it how they were brought up? Are they copying their friends’ attitudes? Are they influenced by social media posts? Do they somehow blame Jews for their difficult lives?
 
And they think the best way of expressing their hatred is to burn down a synagogue or stab a few Jews. What do they think that’s achieving? All they’re doing is spreading fear and alarm and despair.
 
Such all-consuming hatred has to be fuelled by a view of other people as objects rather than human beings. If you see other people as human then you’re not able to inflict casual violence on them.
 
And then again there’s an intolerance of difference. They find difference threatening rather than intriguing. Instead of asking what Jewishness and Judaism is all about and enjoying adding to their knowledge, they see only something peculiar and unfamiliar that needs to be got rid of.
 
Meanwhile Jews are fearful of further horrific attacks on their community.

The seedy reality

It’s easy to become generally cynical – to decide politicians are all corrupt, landlords are all grasping, shopkeepers are out to fleece you etc
 
It’s hard to believe there are plenty of honest, trustworthy, principled people out there who get a lot less attention than the rogues and always get overlooked.
 
You might think it’s mainly oldies like me who’re cynical because we’ve had a lot of experience of people trying to con us in one way or another, but it seems some young people are just as cynical about the way life is treating them.
 
One thing I can’t help feeling cynical about is whopping price rises in the wake of some global crisis. All it takes is a pandemic or a war or a financial crash and suddenly prices shoot up, with the international crisis taking the blame.
 
But I really should try harder not to be cynical, as it takes some of the joy out of life. I should be more open-minded and philosophical and not allow the seedy reality to dominate my thinking.

Biting the bullet

I’m amazed at how many men still expect their wives or girlfriends to take care of all their personal chores, especially around clothing. Women are still expected to buy their men’s clothes, wash them, iron them, darn them.
 
That assumption went without question in my parents’ generation, and my mother took care of my father’s clothes. No doubt cursing his casual opt-out but doing what was expected of her anyway.
 
I’ve always bought, washed, ironed and darned my own clothes and I never thought of it as women’s work (Jenny and I wash our clothes jointly in the washing machine).
 
My attitude partly arises from being on my own in a bedsit for 7½ years. If I didn’t deal with all my clothing chores, nobody else would. I’d just end up with piles of filthy, nasty-smelling clothes. So I bit the bullet and did what I had to.
 
It seems there’s not much women can do about this forced labour, except to refuse to do any of it. But then you’d end up with more filthy, nasty-smelling clothes and the men would still refuse to change their ways. And fail to detect women’s simmering resentment.

Assumptions

I’m often over-estimated because of my posh middle class appearance.
People think I must have had a top job in some prestigious organisation.
Or they think I’m super-wealthy.
Or they think I live in some splendid mansion.
All quite mistaken.
I’ve always done humble jobs like bookselling and admin.
I’m well-off but not wealthy.
I live in a modest detached house.
 
It’s funny what people assume from my appearance.
I suppose I do the same in reverse.
I get other people quite wrong because of how they look.
I imagine people are poor if they wear very ordinary clothes.
When actually they might be loaded.
Or I imagine they’re narrow-minded if they look rather stern.
Which probably isn’t the case.
 
Then again there’s mistaken identity.
I was once accosted by a man who was sure I was a well-known actor.
I didn’t think there was the vaguest resemblance but he was adamant.
I had to insist several times that I wasn’t this person.
He finally gave in, but I don’t think he really believed me.
I invented an urgent appointment and made my escape.

I see the signs

I’m afraid I’ll get dementia.
I’m afraid I already have dementia.
I can see all the signs.
I fumble for words.
I lose my train of thought.
I have trouble concentrating.
I forget people’s names.
I feel vague and confused.
I don’t feel I’m fully functioning.
I forget how to do things.
I don’t understand what people are saying.
But maybe all those things happen to other people too.
Maybe they just mean we’re fallible human beings.
Maybe I hope for perfect behaviour and can’t accept it’s normal to fall short.
 
My mother had dementia.
My mother and father in law both had dementia.
So I’m not confident I’ll dodge it.
Dementia affects one in six people over the age of 80 in the UK.
I’ll be 80 next year.
I don’t want Jenny to have to look after me for years as dementia worsens.
I don’t want to end up a gormless shadow of my former self.
I don’t want my life to end in such wretchedness.
But dementia strikes at random.
There’s nothing I can do to stop it.
No vaccine.
No drugs.
No surgery.
All I can do is hope to be spared.

Instant cures

I get a lot of posts on my Facebook page claiming to have the cure for various medical conditions. I ignore them as I'm sure there's probably no such cure for the ailment in question.

Apparently a lot of people don't have much faith in doctors any more, yet they're prepared to believe unqualified "wellness" promoters online.

I prefer to trust someone who has spent many years qualifying as a doctor and not someone who simply claims to be an expert.

Yes, doctors can sometimes be frustrating because they can't give you any firm diagnosis or they insist there's no cure for the condition in question and all you can do is manage it.

Anyone who's so desperate for a cure for some absolutely awful condition they'll try just about anything is easy prey for the scammers.

I have no complaints about my own doctors (there are four doctors in my health practice and I may get any of them). They give me clear diagnoses, helpful treatment suggestions and useful health advice generally.

The health "experts" will have to look elsewhere for the credulous.

Past and present

I'm not generally nostalgic for some overall period in my past. But I do look back at the past in a divided fashion, partly remembering things I'd like to return to but also remembering things I absolutely wouldn't want to return to.

Things I'd like to return to:

• When you could just talk to someone about a problem and sort it out, without having to go online and negotiate some complicated website.
• Jobs filled on a more casual basis and not needing lengthy application forms.
• Property prices being affordable. And rental fees not being extortionate.
• Plenty of council homes for people who needed a home.
• Having most of what you needed within walking distance of your home. No hard-to-reach shopping centres and little need of cars.
• Food that was nutritious and healthy, and less ultra-processed food.

Things I definitely wouldn't like to return to:

• Rampant misogyny which was usually shrugged off as harmless banter or "just the way things are".
• Phone boxes and exorbitant long-distance calls.
• Widespread discrimination against single mothers.
• Pervasive homophobia.
• Laborious searches for information, before Google arrived.
• Washing by hand, before washing machines were invented.

I guess most people have the same sort of divided memories.

On the lookout

Does it matter if the book you're reading was written with the help of artificial intelligence? Does that somehow make the book corrupt or invalid or phoney?

The USA release of horror novel Shy Girl by Mia Ballard has been cancelled after it was suspected that most of the book was a product of AI.

Recently the literary agent Kate Nash noticed that the submission letters she was getting from authors were becoming more thorough and more formulaic. She thought nothing of it until she saw a reference to AI on one of the letters.

Publishers in general are now on the lookout for AI-generated books, but AI can be hard to detect and no doubt some are slipping through the net.

Does it really matter though if a book has AI input? Surely the key question is whether it's a good book or not? If AI enables the author to writer a better book or do some useful editing for her, what's wrong with that?

The idea seems to be that only a book written totally by a human being, with no outside help, relying entirely on human imagination and creativity, is of value, while anything that uses a machine must be inferior.

What alarms authors of course is that publishers will start producing AI-written books themselves and do away with authors altogether. Which would be disastrous for authors but probably of no great concern to readers.

Perhaps I can use AI to write my blog posts?

PS: The New York Times has cut ties with freelance journalist Alex Preston after discovering he used AI to help write a book review.

Act your age

Thankfully I don't often get told to "act your age". If people think I'm behaving in an unseemly way age-wise, they have the tact to let me get on with it and not tick me off.

What on earth does "act your age" mean anyway? What behaviour exactly is suitable for someone of sixty? Or seventy? Or eighty? Should we wear clothes that hide every square inch of flesh? Should we never say anything rude or controversial? Should we avoid contentious subjects like sex, drugs, religion or politics? Should we avoid doing anything that might be seen as childish or immature?

You could tie yourself in knots trying to act the way people expect an oldie to act - whatever that may be. Who gives a damn? The way I see it, we oldies have spent decades being bossed around by employers, bureaucrats, relatives and big companies, and in our final years we should be able to behave however we like and ignore any age-based remarks.

Perhaps "act your age" should mean act like someone who's old enough to have seen plenty of life, who's well-informed, experienced, worldly-wise and confident enough to expose young people's naivety and wishful thinking. That would be a definition worth pursuing.

Fuss and bother

I've commented before on how anything involving sex or nudity can cause a ridiculous fuss out of all proportion to what's being objected to.

I keep thinking people will become more relaxed about what is perfectly harmless behaviour, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

What am I talking about? A long list of things. Breastfeeding in public. Kissing in public. Skimpy female clothing. Visible cleavage. Bra-less breasts. Naked male chests. Nudity on TV. The word vagina. Politicians having affairs. Older people's sex lives. Photos of women with stretch marks, scars or mastectomies.

There's still a huge tacit understanding about what is and what isn't allowed, and one step over the boundary can unleash a barely-concealed puritanism.

What the complaints usually amount to is a supposed flouting of "decency" (or sometimes public decency). But decency is such a vague concept it's almost meaningless.

Given my enthusiasm for kissing and hugging in public, I'm surprised nobody has ticked me off. But we in Northern Ireland are very keen to show public affection, even to people we've only just met. It's a delightful custom.

Not so British

Just for a laugh I thought I'd try the British citizen test, which you have to take if you're applying for British citizenship or settlement in the UK.

I didn't do very well. The pass mark is 75 per cent or 18 correct answers out of 24. I only got 79 per cent. But that's quite good considering the questions are ridiculously obscure and have little to do with everyday life in Britain.

For example, some of the questions:

• When did the Habeus Corpus Act become law|?
• What was called the Glorious Revolution?
• When was the first Prime Minister in power?
• Who had important ideas about economics during the Enlightenment?
• Which two countries took part in the Battle of Agincourt?
• Does Scotland have its own banknotes?
• Who supported King Charles 1st during the Civil War?
• Where was Anne Boleyn executed?
• Who developed radar?

As far as I'm concerned these questions completely miss the everyday reality of living in Britain. It would be more relevant to test the person's knowledge of the health service, childcare, education, transport or any number of things that directly affect people's lives in 2026. Who on earth needs to know about the Habeus Corpus Act or the Glorious Revolution?

Oh and just to show me up, Jenny did the test and got 92 per cent. Smartass.

Into the eighties

It's my birthday in a few days' time (the 20th) and my modest celebration will consist of a box of Lindt truffles, a game of Scrabble and a meal at one of our local restaurants. We haven't had a birthday cake or candles for many years.

Which started me looking into the history of birthday cakes and how they came about.

Cakes have been a part of birthday celebrations in Western Europe from at least the mid 19th century. They started off very simple but became increasingly elaborate with multiple layers, icing and decorations. For a while the cakes were generally only available to the very wealthy. They became affordable to the lower classes as the Industrial Revolution led to mass production of ingredients.

So I'm 79 this year. Next year is the big milestone as I become an octogenarian. Will I still be fairly fit and healthy into my eighties or will I be a crumbling wreck? Who knows?

If I'd been born earlier, before all the recent medical advances, I might not have made it to 79. I may well have died in my sixties. I wonder what the eighties have in store?

Inside outside

 

Isn't it weird that we can never see ourselves as others see us, because we're always inside ourselves looking out and can never be outside ourselves looking in (or at).

I might think of myself as having a rather nondescript appearance, while others see me as very distinctive. I might consider myself kind and considerate, while others think I'm somewhat mean and selfish. I might imagine I'm highly intelligent while others think I'm rather a dimwit.

Wouldn't it be interesting if I could step outside myself for 24 hours and see myself as others see me? Would it be a bit of a shock as my rosy picture of myself was rapidly demolished? Or would it be a pleasant surprise as I discovered I was more appealing than I thought I was? And would I be embarrassed by some of my daft remarks and clumsy gestures?

I might think someone has got me completely wrong, only to find out that actually they've caught the real me.

If only some of those public figures who think they're so wonderful could stand outside themselves and be confronted with the mortifying reality....

Jaywalking

I'm an incorrigible jaywalker. As long as the road is clear enough I'll happily defy convention and dart across.

Jenny thinks jaywalking is dangerous and tries to stop me but I'm undeterred. I've been jaywalking all my life and I've never yet been hit by a vehicle. Ironically while Jenny was jaywalking for a few minutes yesterday she slipped and fell and got a few minor injuries.

It helps of course that jaywalking isn't illegal in the UK so I'm not going to end up in a police station.

I see it's illegal in most US states and in Canada, though people aren't too fussed and prosecutions are fairly rare, usually resulting in no more than a smallish fine.

One reason I jaywalk is that the pedestrian phase on some street crossings can take quite a while to appear and I can't be bothered to wait for it.

So why is it called jaywalking? I gather the word jay refers to a gormless hick from the countryside and the term jaywalking was coined by the auto industry to blame pedestrians for accidents. How very sneaky of them.