Apocalypse buffs

What turns people into survivalists? Why does someone decide they need to make elaborate prepar-ations for some sort of future apocalypse or arma-geddon? Why don't they just potter along hoping for the best like most of us do?

Apart from anything else, it's such a hit and miss business. You don't know exactly what you're preparing for so you don't really know what you should be stocking up on or making provision for. An economic crisis? A war? A biblical plague? Climate collapse? Aliens from outer space? It's all so nebulous.

Personally I've never had the slightest urge to prepare for some dire future emergency. I've survived for 72 years without taking any special precautions, and I doubt there'll be an apocalypse any time soon.

In any case, where do you put all the stuff you've set aside? You would need a very large house or basement and how many people have those? You would also need plenty of cash to buy all this extra stuff.

There was a wonderful story a couple of years ago about Joseph Badame, an American guy who had spent $1 million making massive preparations for a possible economic crisis, was made bankrupt by medical bills after his wife's stroke and faced having to dispose of everything he had stockpiled - including huge amounts of food.

At the estate sale, he met a Puerto Rican food truck operator hired to work at the sale and she told him of all the Puerto Rican families who were starving after Hurricane Maria had hit the country.

He arranged for all the food he had stockpiled - thousands of dollars' worth - to be shipped to Puerto Rico.

So something good came out of his personal tragedy.

Pic: Joseph Badame

Ostrich tendency

It's hard not to feel depressed by the exceptionally sorry state of the world. Just about anywhere you live, the prospects right now are pretty bleak. The world is like a large bear licking its wounds after some unexpected attack, and hoping tomorrow will be an improvement.

The relentlessly doom-laden headlines about economic ruin make me want to turn and run for the hills, or bury my head in the sand, ostrich-like*. I feel like chucking out the TV, not reading the newspapers, and generally shutting out the rest of the world until things start to get better.

I feel like narrowing my attention to my own little microcosm of friends and loved ones, making sure they're safe and sound, getting whatever pleasure I can and doing my best to preserve my sanity.

The problem is that we've all got used to expensive and comfortable lifestyles that rely on sizeable salaries, affordable outgoings and plenty of jobs. As soon as the world's economies go pear-shaped and all those underpinnings look precarious, life gets very scary indeed.

Sometimes I think those religious hermits who spent their lives in a Himalayan cave, devoting their days to meditation and contemplating the snowy peaks, needing nothing more than a few modest gifts from their admirers, had the right idea.

They never had to worry about the imminent collapse of the banking system, or the price of electricity, or government borrowing, or loopy politicians. They just sat there serenely in the lotus position, pondering the sound of one hand clapping, and smiling benignly as their latest visitor cringed at plummeting share prices on their iPhone.

So let me know when the world is back on track. In the meantime, I'll turn off my mind, relax and float downstream.

* In reality of course ostriches never bury their head in the sand. If they did, they'd suffocate.

Why compete?

I'm a seriously uncompetitive person. I just don't see the point. A mere whiff of people around me being competitive, trying to outdo each other, trying to score points, and I turn off instantly. I simply can't be arsed.

If those I'm with are feverishly trying to out-smart and out-shine each other, to trump their companions with the wittiest arguments or slickest accomplishments, I fall silent and let them get on with it. I'm really not interested in jockeying to be top dog.

Whether it's intellectual brilliance, career advancement, the property ladder, exotic holidays, cultural awareness or alcohol consumption, I couldn't care less if other people seem to be more on the ball or up-to-the-minute than I am.

I don't measure my achievements or well-being on a competitive yardstick, on how far ahead or behind I'm deemed to be. I'm guided solely by my own instincts and aspirations and a sense of what I'm comfortable with.

Competing with other people can be destructive as often as it's fruitful. If you're competing for the fattest salary, the biggest hangover, the most gas-guzzling car or the most sexual conquests, is that really going to enrich your life? Or will you just end up on a neurotic treadmill of trying to impress others rather than searching for your deepest desires and satisfying them?

The ultimate proof of how badly competitiveness can backfire is of course the current economic crisis. For years British banks were competing ruthlessly for the most customers and the biggest market share. And the result? A trail of wrecked lives and broken hopes after the whole house of cards abruptly collapsed.

Thanks to Conor for the idea.

Housing sharks

In the midst of economic turmoil, the sharks are still circling, waiting to get their teeth into vulnerable people desperate for a lifeline.

The latest group to be stung is hard-up householders threatened with repossession. Smooth operators are offering to buy their houses and rent them back.

Sounds ideal, doesn't it? Except that all sorts of traps are lurking in the small print.

You might be paid only 50% of the house's real value. The agreement might only last a year. The rent might be as much as the mortgage - and might go up. You might be charged an 'arrangement fee'. And you might still be repossessed by the new owners.

There are now 2000 sale-to-rent schemes in the UK, and they're totally unregulated. The government is looking at the problem but they've yet to do anything concrete. Why?

One couple, Jane and Richard Hudson of Basildon, Essex, have lost their home of 13 years and they and their five children are now squeezed into cramped emergency housing.

Jane says of the company that conned them "They've robbed me, they've robbed my kids and they've knocked my confidence."

How predictable that there's always someone ready to take advantage of a catastrophe and milk those who're floundering. These people have the morals of an alleycat.

And the lesson? If some silver-tongued charmer offers you the perfect answer to your problems, ask a shed-load of awkward questions and go through the contract with a fine tooth-comb. Or you could rue the day.

NB: That's not the Hudsons in the pic, btw.

Scrimping and saving

The credit crunch is really exposing our divided society once again. The haves and the have-nots are visible for all to see.

On the one hand, the well-heeled minority are scarcely affected. They have plenty of money to absorb dearer mortgages, food and fuel without batting an eyelid. Their only concern is whether their savings are still secure, so they're busy moving their money around from rickety banks to safer ones.

Everyone else, on the other hand, either barely solvent or heavily in debt, is frantically juggling their inadequate incomes to pay all the bills and working out what they can cut back on. With no spare cash to save, wobbling banks are the least of their problems.

The government naturally is focussing on the well-padded and their savings dilemma, pumping fortunes into ailing institutions and reassuring the worried wealthy that they won't lose a penny.

But I don't see the same fortunes being put at the disposal of the barely solvent to help them break even and get rid of some debt. There's no chance of ruinous mortgages being paid off or fuel prices being cut.

The government feels your pain, buddy, but there are really no practical measures they can take. You'll just have to hang on until better times come round. Quite frankly, you shouldn't have overstretched yourself in the first place.

And what really pisses me off is the TV newsreaders grinning like Cheshire cats after every dire economic bulletin. I suppose on their luxurious salaries they can afford to grin. They won't be tightening THEIR belts any time soon.