Identity crisis

Despite the unanimous decision of the English Supreme Court in April 2025 that a female means a biological female, hundreds of people are still defying the law and insisting that if a man declares himself to be a woman then that's what he is.

Those who maintain that declaring yourself a female is nonsense and there's no such thing as a sex change are roundly attacked as "transphobic" and subjected to vicious abuse and hatred.

Male prisoners are declaring themselves female and being transferred to female prisons where quite often they sexually abuse female prisoners.

It's extraordinary that in 2026 women have to protect themselves against men who declare they're female and insist on invading female spaces like women's refuges and women's sports events.

When I was young, transsexuals, as they were called then, never believed they were real women, and knew they were merely passing as women. And other people were willing to treat them as women as long as they kept a low profile. They didn't make the sort of bizarre demands they're making now and didn't encroach on women's facilities and activities.

I wonder how long this insistence on sex changes will go on before people finally come to their senses and revert to reality.

Skill shortage

I'm shocked that so many children now arrive at school lacking some of the basic skills they should already have acquired. Such as:

• How to have a conversation
• How to play with toys
• How to focus on a task for more than two minutes
• How to hold a pen or pencil
• How to throw or kick a ball
• How to use a paperback
• How to follow a story
• How to interact with other children

These failings are attributed to the Covid lockdowns, when children were stuck in the home; children glued to screens rather than engaging in physical activity or exploring the outside world; and parents who think children will develop these skills naturally and don't need parental instruction.

Teachers are having to teach these basic skills on top of their already heavy workload. They could do without it.

When I started school aged five I certainly had all the necessary basic skills, as did my classmates, and there was no question of our needing special instruction. The idea would have struck us as ludicrous.

Unfortunately, unless screen use suddenly declines, it looks as if this shameful situation can only get worse rather than better.

One of those things

I've remarked before on the widespread under-provision of women's toilets and the fact that women invariably have to queue while men don't (I was reminded of this by a male journalist who found himself having to queue for a pub toilet).

There are obvious reasons for increasing the number of women's toilets and they shouldn't need explaining. Women usually take a lot longer because of menstruation, fiddly underwear, checking make-up and not being able to use a urinal.

But most men couldn't care less. As long as they can slip in and out of the toilet in 60 seconds they're not bothered. Women having to queue is just "one of those things" and they simply have to suck it up.

Sadiq Khan, Mayor of London, pledged some time ago to increase provision of women's toilets in the city. Whether he's made any progress is unclear. I imagine he's had plenty of resistance from intransigent males.

Personally I think we need at least a 2 to 1 ratio of female toilets to male toilets. There should be enough female toilets to abolish queues altogether. Why should women have to wait while men can use the loo at top speed?

Window fad

In several countries it's routine to open your windows for ten minutes in the morning and another ten minutes in the evening, even in winter.

This is supposed to reduce condensation, drive out stale air, invigorate you, and generally improve your health.

Well, it may be the done thing in Scandinavia, Germany, and other European countries, but the British are having none of it.

I don't want to open my windows in mid-January and let in freezing cold air, thank you very much. Apart from the huge waste of central heating, I'm sceptical about the supposed health benefits.

I've never had a major illness in all the 17 years I've lived in this house. I've hardly ever had a cold or flu either. So I'm keeping my windows firmly closed in winter's plummeting temperatures.

Jenny agrees entirely, especially as she tends to feel the cold more than I do.

Interestingly, all those articles telling us how to improve our health never mention flinging the windows open twice a day. Even the health gurus aren't convinced it's a good idea.

Plimsolls reborn

To us oldies, it's intriguing how common-or-garden plimsolls were stealthily rebranded and suddenly became ultra-fashionable trainers.

When I was young, there were simply plimsolls, very casual soft shoes that were only worn in informal situations like the gym, indoor activities or casual meet-ups. Otherwise we wore smart leather shoes or boots.

Somewhere along the line plimsolls were reborn as trainers and became stylish must-have items. Instead of being cheap shoes that cost a few pounds, they became much more expensive and even became designer items costing hundreds of pounds.

Now they're routine daily wear, worn by everyone from shop assistants to chief executives.

How did this ludicrous change take place? How did something that was affordable and unremarkable turned into a hugely visible high-fashion item that people looked down if they didn't cost enough?

I tried trainers for a while but they weren't always waterproof. I went back to conventional leather shoes that are very definitely waterproof - surely one of the basic requirements of a shoe, especially in Northern Ireland weather.

Pushing up the daisies

We're still so coy about death, aren't we? People don't just die, they pass away or meet their maker or are no longer with us.

Why all the euphemisms? There are at least two dozen. What's wrong with the word dead? Dying is a fact of life, as it were, and doesn't need to be downplayed as if it's something shameful or disgusting.

I hope when I die, people will say I'm dead and not gone to my maker or bitten the dust or given up the ghost.

People are equally coy about the cause of death. Quite often no cause of death is given and it's anyone's guess what the person died of.

I can sort of understand why people don't name the cause of death as suicide or an overdose or anorexia, to avoid being blamed for not helping to keep the person alive, but again there's nothing shameful or disgusting about such disturbing causes of death, and with the best will in the world it's hard to stop someone being self-destructive.

Yes, sooner or later I'm going to kick the bucket and be pushing up the daisies. I might even die.

Not moving an inch

I hope I never have to move home again. It's such a complicated and exhausting business. I just want to stay put and enjoy the home I have right now.

I've lived in 13 different homes in my lifetime, and that's quite enough uprooting and re-settling, thank you very much.

Every so often Jenny and I ponder the possibility of downsizing, but we always conclude it's not worth the enormous upheaval unless there's some really urgent need.

Having lived in a fairly spacious house for 16 years, it would be very hard to adjust to somewhere much smaller. I'm sure we would feel cramped and restricted and it would take quite a while to attune to our reduced territory.

People who think those of us who live in "over-sized" houses should sell up immediately and move to somewhere smaller are missing the point. There are over 260,000 long term empty houses in the UK that should be brought into use rather than quietly rotting.

I'm staying right here until something drives me out. Hopefully it never will.

Scary fireworks

People are becoming more aware that pets can be very frightened by fireworks and loud noises, and they're doing what they can to calm their pets.

A woman whose dachshund Buddy ran away and was found dead after being frightened by fireworks has said tighter rules on their use could prevent other pet owners facing the same loss.

I was amazed to learn that dog disappearances can increase by over 80 per cent during firework seasons, and about 20 per cent of lost pets go missing after being scared by loud noises.

Buddy's owner, Joanne Sloan Allen. from Templepatrick in Northern Ireland, said fireworks also affect her horses.

She would like fireworks to be confined to organised public displays with set times, so she knows when to take measures to calm her dogs and horses.

We don't have any pets, but we can imagine how frightened they must be with fireworks exploding all round them, especially if they have no idea what the fireworks are all about, and especially as dogs and cats have much sharper hearing than we humans.

Out of our league

Jenny and I have finally faced reality and admitted we aren't up to the intricacies of chess games. We packed up our lovely glass chess set and it will go to a new owner with the necessary high-powered brain.

We've been in the habit of holding a chess tournament every Christmas to stretch our brains a little and have a bit of fun. But you need a brain that can consider several possible strategies at once and how all of them might develop.

We're just not up to the job. We were fumbling around making silly mistakes and letting our pieces be taken too easily. We were taking longer and longer to make our next move, while the other person got increasingly bored and impatient.

So we finally accepted that chess is too sophisticated for our puny brains. We've given up trying to master a game that's way out of our league and we've gone back to something more manageable - Scrabble.

We're both good with words, so Scrabble suits us much better. And we don't nod off waiting for the other person to move.

Playful fun

Since when did poking fun at someone, teasing them, become normal? The person being teased is expected to laugh along with the teasing, even if they find it upsetting or offensive.

If they object to being teased, they may be seen as a wet blanket, a party pooper, a tight-laced individual who doesn't want to have a bit of fun.

If you know the person who's doing the teasing, you might assume they're just being friendly and don't mean any harm, but if it's a stranger you might think they're having a dig at you out of malice.

Jenny teases me from time to time, and obviously I'm not offended because I know she's not being malicious. Usually she teases me about my odd quirks and habits, like getting the last tiny scrapings of peanut butter out of the jar.

Misogynists are especially prone to teasing, or rather pretending they're teasing, They'll make some unwanted remark about a woman's appearance or behaviour and claim it was just teasing, just banter. "Don't take everything so seriously, love".

But it can undermine a person's confidence if they're teased a lot, and however well-meant it inevitably seems like a judgment on their character.

Teasing isn't always the playful fun it seems to be.

Family friction

There's a general assumption that we spend Christmas with our families. But what if you don't get on with your family and bristle at many of their views?

There's no good reason we should spend time with our families if it's just going to mean hostility and bad feeling. We don't hear much about it, but a lot of people no longer feel obliged to visit their family and are much happier spending Christmas on their own or with friends.

Readers responding to a newspaper's agony column were unanimous: If you don't get on with your family, ditch them and make Christmas your own.

Readers shared stories of walking away from tense gatherings, spending the day alone, heading off on trips, or celebrating with friends - and loving it.

The overriding response was simple: protect your peace, reclaim Christmas, and make it a day you actually enjoy rather than an exercise in pleasing others.

I spent Christmas on my own for many years and relished it. That was partly because my father and I didn't get on. Also because my parents had political views very different from my own and it would have been too stressful keeping on the right side of them.

Now my parents are both gone, I don't miss them at Christmas. Jenny and I have a great time on our own and wouldn't have it any other way.
 

No hankering

In general I've never hankered after someone else's life or imagined they're having a better life than me. I've never thought the grass is greener on the other side.

Another person's life may look desirable from the outside, but if you knew anything about their private life no doubt you'd discover all sorts of problems and disappointments and disasters they're carefully hiding from the rest of us behind smiling faces.

They don't have some charmed and magical existence but face the same setbacks and tragedies as everyone else.

I don't understand those people (especially youngsters) who think their lives will be wonderful if they could just become a super-model or a movie star or a famous footballer. Or any kind of celebrity. Be careful what you wish for.

If you have personal experience of any of those supposedly glittering lifestyles, you'd know the reality is very different from the glamorous image. Models for example will soon tell you they don't just swan around the world looking gorgeous, they have to work in freezing cold and scorching heat and maintain an ultra-thin figure. Hardly a magical existence.

Keep it simple

Jenny and I like to have a simple, unpretentious Christmas.

Plenty of coffee (as we're teetotal), a gripping book, a game of Scrabble, a game of chess, an enthralling film or two, a box of chocolates, and a tasty home-made (vegetarian) meal.

Just the two of us, as we don't have any children, our parents are long-gone, and my sister is bedridden with MND.

But we're not supposed to want a simple, unpretentious Christmas. We're supposed to want a totally over-the-top Christmas, and in the four or five weeks run-up to the big day, we're urged to buy Christmassy stuff by the lorry load.

If you don't have a Santa hat or a Christmas jumper or a Christmas tree or a "Santa stop here" sign, or anything else that says "I'm celebrating Christmas big time, what about you?", you're clearly not pulling your weight.

It's not as if Christmas has any obvious purpose apart from boosting commercial profits and hosting family reunions.

I'd like to see Christmas disappear in favour of Thanksgiving, which the UK doesn't bother with. I like the tradition of giving thanks for all the good things in one's life, all the year's unexpected blessings.

That seems like a better idea than getting paralytically drunk and compulsively over-eating.

Forgetful

My poor memory is a constant embarrass-ment. Jenny remembers about four times as much as I do and is always reminding me of things I've completely forgotten.

Do you remember that woman we met in Sydney, who had serious sunburn and persistent hiccups, she asks me, and I have no recollection of her whatever.

Sometimes, when I don't remember a whole string of things, I'll pretend I remember some of them just to reduce the embarrassment.

It's sad that whole chunks of my life have vanished without trace. I can remember very little of my schooldays for example. I can remember the schools I went to and a lot of the teachers and pupils, but nothing much beyond that.

If someone asks me about the book I've just read, it's all I can do to recall the basic details of the plot and the main characters. Even while reading the book, any character who disappears for 50 pages and then resurfaces is an enigma. I struggle to remember who this person is and how she fits into the plot.

My poor memory does have a few advantages though. I forget bad experiences as if they never happened. So I don't nurse grudges and resentments.

Did I have a normal memory as a child? I don't remember.

Secret spending

It seems a surprising number of adults hide their purchases on things like beauty products, gambling and clothing from their partners as part of a pattern of secret spending.

A survey of 4000 adults showed that men on average spent £2545 without their partner's knowledge in the past year. Women spent an average of £1769.

The young are more secretive with their spending than older generations, with an average of £4303 in the past year. Those over 55 spent an average of just £384.

Jenny and I have never bought anything secretly, except presents to each other. We wouldn't dream of such sneaky behaviour. And we aren't embarrassed by anything we buy. I might think Jenny has been a bit extravagant, she might think the same about me, but secret spending never crosses our minds.

I think it says something negative about the nature of your relationship if you feel you can't be upfront about what you're buying. Especially if your secret purchases are so hefty that you're getting into alarming levels of debt that the other person doesn't know about.

How can you justify the secrecy?

PS: The figures above are mysterious. How are they compiled? Do people really remember every secret purchase they've made over the last year? And the exact price they paid? Or are the figures based on estimates?

Clean living

Although I loathed my boarding school in many ways, I have to admit it was a very good influence in some respects.

It was a model of clean living. There was no smoking, no alcohol and no drugs. And of course no girls. So I left school as a remarkably abstemious individual, shunning any unhealthy activities, unless an enthusiastic interest in politics is unhealthy (it probably is).

At home I was equally abstemious because of the attitudes slowly engrained at boarding school, and because my parents were equally abstemious. My father was a light smoker and both my parents were happy with a single glass of wine.

No doubt some of my fellow pupils relapsed as soon as they left school and were free to indulge themselves, but I kept fairly "clean". I've never smoked. I took drugs once or twice before deciding they weren't for me. And I drank wine for many years but only in small quantities.

No doubt if I'd gone to the local state school clean living would have been dismissed as puritanical nonsense and unhealthy behaviour would have been the norm. So thanks, Berkhamsted School, for keeping me on the straight and narrow.

Pink furore

What is it with men? Why are they no hung up on whether things are masculine or not? Why are they so terrified of anything that smacks of femininity?

A pink J Crew jumper with a Fair Isle pattern has sent countless Americans into apoplexy. Why? Because it's pink, and they can't be seen wearing anything pink.

After a social media commentator voiced her aversion, thousands of her followers rushed to agree with her.

"No man in my family would wear it" wrote one. "My husband wouldn't use a pink bathroom towel" said another. Others responded in similar vein.

The irony is that pink hasn't been seen as feminine for all that long. If you go back to the 18th century, boys happily wore pink (and girls happily wore blue). Pink was considered a masculine colour right up to the mid 1940s, when the roles of pink and blue were gradually reversed (it's not clear how it happened - something to do with marketing strategies).

I don't have any pink clothing myself, but that's mainly because men's clothing shops often don't stock anything pink. I would cheerfully wear the J Crew jumper, though I might get some funny looks from traditional males).

Pic: Not the J Crew jumper, which I was unable to copy.

Religious setback

In a remarkable judgment, the British Supreme Court has ruled that religious teaching in Northern Ireland is unlawful!

The court says it's unlawful on several grounds - firstly, it's not conveyed in an "objective, critical and pluralistic manner" but focuses uncritically on the Christian doctrine; secondly, it doesn't include religions other than Christianity; thirdly, pupils are stigmatised if they decide to opt out of religious teaching.

This is quite a bombshell for Northern Ireland schools, which will have to radically change the way they teach religion. Of course schools should  cover a range of religions and not treat Christianity as the only religion worth studying.

The legal action was taken by a father and his daughter who attended a Belfast primary school. She was being taught that Christianity was an absolute truth.

The school defends its religious teaching, saying it's "Bible-based" and follows the core religious syllabus for religion.

I had a look at the core religious syllabus (all 38 pages of it) which says pupils should develop an awareness of the key Christian teachings. Nowhere does it mention any other religions.

I'm astonished that such an obviously biased syllabus wasn't updated decades ago.

Foreign words

Every now and again someone will rail against the number of French words (or Italian or German) in the English language, and suggest they be banned and replaced by good old English words.

Well, they're onto a losing battle there, because 29% to 45% of English words are of French origin, with something like 7,000 to 10,000 words borrowed from French. French words are so well-established in fact, you're looking at a fait accompli.

I can't see why this should be objectionable. It's very healthy for a language to absorb all sorts of foreign words as well as new English words.

I'm much more concerned about words that are over-used, like fucking and awesome, or words that are insulting or demeaning. I'm more concerned about the use of baffling jargon and lawyer-speak.

France has a history of fighting to keep English words out of the French language, but it's like Canute trying to resist the waves. Fleur Pellerin, France's minister of culture, declared in 2015 that trying to ban foreign words was doing more harm than good.

Personally I'm happy to ask for a croissant or an hors d'oeuvre. Bon appetit!

Organ donor

I've had an organ donor card since 2001. It requests that after my death any part of my body can be used for the treatment of others.

It seems to me like a harmless and altruistic thing to do. What could be more generous than bequeathing parts of my body to others who urgently need them?

And yet there's still a large number of people who oppose organ donation. Transplant waiting lists are growing and yet 2½ million people are refusing to help. The number of organ donations is actually falling.

What on earth is stopping people from becoming organ donors? Once you're dead you have no further use for your bodily organs so why shouldn't they be passed on to people who desperately need them? The dead person isn't going to object, so what's the problem?

So what if granny was totally opposed to organ donations? Surely the urgent need of a living patient for a vital organ trumps the well-meaning observance of granny's wishes?