I am what I am

Some time ago I wrote about Guardian columnist Emma Beddington and the five things she likes about ageing. Naturally there are many more than five benefits, and I thought of a few she didn't mention.

• Increased scepticism. I'm less likely to believe other people's dubious claims, opinions and stories. I'm more likely to think, yes, and pull the other leg, it's got bells on.
• I have less interest in what's fashionable or popular. It's amusing to see the latest ridiculous bit of clothing or furniture or quinoa-and-seaweed recipe, but mainly I just go my own way.
• I have less desire to solve other people's problems. They're mostly too complex and too baffling to be put right by a well-meaning lobby group or two. Nowadays I leave them to the politicians.
• I can recall lots more interesting experiences than a twenty something. I've been round the block a few times, and come up against harsh reality often enough.
• I can opt out of tedious events by claiming to be too tired/too frail/not up to a long journey. This is where the stereotypes of doddery old codgers can be rather useful.
• I can excuse any domestic scruffiness by saying I don't have the energy for exhaustive housework. I mean, you can't really expect a septuagenarian to be plucking cobwebs from the ceilings.
• All the horrors of flirting, dating and romantic disillusion are well behind me. I don't have to worry that my date will hate my clothes or my taste in food or my political opinions.

Of course I'm not saying that all this applies to oldies in general. I'm sure there are plenty of oldies who totally love social events and still want to be at the height of fashion. But I am what I am, as Popeye said.

Emma Beddington's five likes can be found here.

Marriage wreckers

I was revisiting a long-ago post on why marriages collapse. It can happen very easily. All it takes is a total difference of opinion about some pattern of behaviour. What seems quite normal to one of you is baffling and infuriating to the other. Is it about sex? Money? Housework? Politics? Violence? Weirdness?

With Jenny and I, I think the one thing that would absolutely drive us apart is sexism. Jenny has always been a passionate feminist who expects me to do my fair share of the household tasks and treat her with respect and consideration.

If I suddenly became the stereotype bloke, sprawled on the sofa watching Match of the Day and clutching a bottle of beer, while she scuttled round the house with the hoover and changed the bed linen, she wouldn't put up with that for long. I'd be packing my bags and moving out.

Of course there are some strong runners-up as marriage wreckers. Like politics. Jenny and I are both ardent socialists, but if one of us suddenly became a rabid right-winger, banging on about dangerous vaccines and imaginary viruses, that would be pretty terminal.

Like domestic order. We're both minor neat-freaks, wanting everything in its place and a place for everything. If one of us was always messy, never clearing anything up and leaving a trail of clothing and chocolate wrappers and dirty mugs everywhere they went, the other would be driven totally mad.

Like weirdness. We both have our peculiar habits and opinions, but they're all pretty benign - nothing disturbing enough to horrify the other. Nothing to justify a sudden moonlight flit.

And there's the very obvious contender - one of us having an affair. As it happens, neither of us has bowed to temptation, though we may have toyed with the idea on occasion, when someone utterly delicious caught our eye. But apart from anything else, deceit and subterfuge aren't in my nature.

Anyway, Jenny needn't worry too much about an outbreak of sexism.

Match of the Day? I'd rather pluck out my eyeballs.

Good enough

Thankfully I'm not a perfect-ionist. Wanting everything to be brilliant, unique, or just better than it is, must be an exhausting and impossible task. Personally I'm happy for things to be "good enough" and I'll stop right there, thanks.

And by "good enough" I don't mean skimping or accepting something a bit shoddy. I just mean I aim for a certain standard, one most people would be comfortable with, and striving for some rarified excellence doesn't interest me.

I don't want a kitchen that's 100% hygienic and germ-free. I don't want bed linen that matches the wallpaper. I'm not going to mow the lawn every three days. I'm not going to replace all my nondescript shirt buttons. Life's too short for such nonsense.

But I've known people who were obsessive about housework, who couldn't bear a speck of dust or splodge of grease anywhere. Or obsessive about work, always scanning their emails, rewriting memos and double-checking every little detail. Or gardening fanatics who couldn't stop weeding and pruning and power-jetting the patio.

It must be hard to live with a relentless perfectionist. No matter how often you say everything's fine as it is, they'll insist they just have to tweak this or adjust that, and nothing will deter them. They won't be able to sleep at night if the soup spoons don't match or the plates are wrongly stacked.

Perfectionists have their place though. A world without them would be an inferior one. Without the frenzied perfectionists who invented the washing machine and the internet and the CD player, and who fought for improved legal rights and housing standards and working conditions, our lives would be much depleted.

I'm just not that driven. I want an easy life. So sue me.

Marriage guidance

When I said Jenny and I hadn't drawn up a pre-nuptial agreement, I was lying. We did in fact draft one, which went like this:

1) The following are strictly forbidden: instant coffee, linoleum, artex, sliced bread, referring to the living room as "the lounge", garden gnomes, doorbells that play tunes, leggings, any kind of sport, comb-overs, nasal hair, tattoos, leaving hairs in the basin, not changing the toilet roll, not cleaning the crumbs off the breadboard, floral wallpaper, net curtains, matching crockery, tarot cards, and lucky charms.

2) Neither partner may sulk, moan about work, be grumpy, pick their nose, gossip about celebrities, embarrass each other in company, wear over-tight clothing, worship a supreme being, believe in astrology, or talk to their imaginary friend.

3) Fancying, or flirting with, the opposite sex (or the same one) is perfectly natural. We can't help but acknowledge beauty and sexiness. But go any further, buddy, and you're toast.

4) Each partner must adore and relish the other's body, which is infinitely fascinating and delightful. There must be no mention of fat, weight, age, wrinkles, knock-knees or hairiness. Except of course comb-overs or nasal hair, which are beyond the pale.

5) Honesty and frankness is essential at all times. We will always discuss our thoughts, feelings and experiences freely and openly in order to have a complete and meaningful relationship. Of course reckless intimacies with aesthetically-pleasing dental nurses are excluded, not being "experiences" in the normal sense.

6) We will both do our fair share of domestic chores, regardless of so-called prior commitments, long-standing allergies, invisible dust syndrome, or arthritic fingers. Except of course when there's something really really unmissable on the telly.

7) Er, that's it.

Couples and break-ups

There's a lot of arguments about the issue most likely to split couples apart. Is it sex? Money? Housework? Politics? Violence? Weirdness? In theory it could be just about anything - whatever you feel so strongly about that the other person's totally opposite attitude is just too much to take.

With Jenny and I, I think what would separate us beyond repair is actually sexism. Jenny having been a strong feminist ever since I met her, the one thing she couldn't stomach would be my turning into a stereotype male, watching the footie and guzzling beer while she cleaned the house and knocked up the evening meal. We've always tried to share the pleasures and chores of domestic life equally, and hopefully we don't slip into the traditional sex roles too often.

Early in our relationship money became a thorny issue. I still had my own bank account while Jenny wanted us to pool our cash. Luckily I came round to the idea and a joint account saved the day. Jenny has always been freer with money than me, and sometimes sees me as mean and ungenerous. But going broke is one of my big anxieties, so splashing out isn't easy. It helps that we have a lot more money than when we first met - when we were two amorous but seriously underpaid booksellers.

Housework isn't a serious bone of contention. I do my fair share - in fact when Jenny was working in Glasgow I did all the house-cleaning here. Perhaps not entirely to her standard (the thinnest coating of dust makes women very antsy!) but it was respectable enough. Jenny does most of the cooking, as she loves cooking, but I do all the washing up and a lot of the shopping. Not to mention most of the gardening and looking after the two cars. But then Jenny earns a lot more than me so fair's fair.

As for sex, my lips are sealed. Call me old-fashioned, but I think some subjects are too delicate and too intimate for the full-frontal exposure of a global diary. So you'll have to use your imagination on that one. Bondage? Cross-dressing? Nurses' uniforms? That would be telling. All I can say is, it won't be sex that breaks up the happy home. Unless it's sex with someone else of course. But let's not go there either.

I could chatter on freely about couples uncoupling - isn't it strange how those dream couples suddenly crash and burn while the most unlikely matches endure effortlessly? But there's too much to say - it'll have to wait till later.