Giving up

Since Jenny and I gave up alcohol several months ago we're surprised how little we even think about alcohol. We never have any hankering for a glass of wine, and we can easily ignore the alcohol sections at the supermarkets. We just don't miss it.

It's strange that we've abandoned alcohol so easily, since we'd been drinking regularly from before we first met. We'd been cutting back a bit from our earlier days together when we'd consume a bottle of wine or more in an evening. But it never occurred to us to stop drinking, especially when all our friends drank.

Then one day in the spring we both realised that alcohol just wasn't doing anything for us any more, so why were we still guzzling it? Why not give it up? So we did. We were expecting it to be a bit of a struggle but we were amazed at how effortless it was.

It's saving us a lot of money of course, which is an added bonus. It was expensive enough just for the two of us, but if you're buying a round in the pub the cost is crazy.

Nobody has suggested that we're missing out by giving up alcohol, that we're party-poopers or strait-laced puritans. I suppose it helps that a lot of young people have gone teetotal, either for the health benefits or to save money or because they don't like being drunk. So rejecting alcohol has become somewhat fashionable.

Cheers!

Downsizing

Every so often someone suggests giving people in so-called over-large houses some sort of incentive to downsize to a smaller property.

It happened again yesterday on the TV programme Question Time, when someone debating the possibility of reducing the state pension proposed that if more people downsized they could manage on a smaller pension.

He suggested that people in very spacious houses like our own could be given an incentive to move to somewhere smaller - presumably some sort of financial grant.

Well, I enjoy living in a large house and I don't see why people like us should be singled out for our preference, especially when there are thousands of empty houses around the country that could be targeted instead. And how could you ensure that an "over-large" house went to a family and not another space-loving couple like us?

In any case, even a sizeable financial grant wouldn't make up for all the upheaval and hard work and stress of moving house.

We space-lovers are being turned into scapegoats for the continuing shortage of new homes. We're supposed to feel guilty for not "making do" with a much smaller house.

And if family-size houses are so badly needed, how come so many tiny apartments are being built?

Doggie devotion

It's still true that many people find their pets more soothing and reassuring than other people - maybe even their partners. A survey of 31,299 pet owners reveals 58 per cent of people find cats and dogs more comforting than people at stressful times, outranking spouses, friends and kids.

If you're going through some sort of crisis, the average dog won't give you a load of unasked-for advice, won't pretend to be sympathetic when they're not, won't tell you it's not as bad as you think, and won't tell you everything's going to be fine and just hang on in there.

The average dog will simply give you lots of love and affection until you're no longer at sixes and sevens and have sorted things out.

Of course there's a downside to such reliable devotion. A dog might wake you at 4 am demanding food. Or might empty your dinner plate when you're not looking. Or it might jump all over your visitors. And it won't do the washing-up.

Well, that's what I'm told at any rate. We don't actually have a dog so we can't tell you if all that's true or not. But I can certainly testify to a dog's unwavering love and affection, having experienced it many times when dogs are about. In fact a dog will give me enthusiastic affection even if we've never met before. 

A dog may not speak but it has many other virtues.

Now it's our turn

Over-tourism has come to Belfast. It took a while because (for obvious reasons) Belfast wasn't a popular tourist destination till a few years ago.

I was in the city centre last weekend and I noticed it was a lot more crowded than it used to be - too crowded. Many of those wandering around were clearly tourists and there were plenty of tourist coaches and sightseeing buses.

Belfast city centre isn't that big, unlike other cities. It soon fills up with people. Suddenly I'm having to negotiate large numbers of people rather than just walking along the street.

And it's only May, when you would expect the city centre still to be quite quiet. At this rate the peak tourist period of July and August is going to be even more crowded. How many more visitors can we comfortably accommodate?

This year we're due to receive 150 cruise ships, and a brand new cruise ship terminal is being built.

Naturally the tourist authority and the NI government want to see as many tourists as possible because it's good for the economy, and they don't really care if the city is being over-run.

But at least it's good to know that the outdated media image of Belfast (paramiltaries, bombs, guns etc) is no longer putting people off because they know Belfast has become a normal, thriving city with its trendy restaurants and coffee shops. Life moves on.

Pic: a walking tour outside (an unusually quiet) Belfast City Hall

A careless child

The recent slight damage to a £42 million Rothko painting in a Rotterdam museum by a careless child has once again led to debate about whether children should be allowed in art galleries.

Well, of course they should. It's always possible that an impulsive child will touch a painting or sculpture without thinking, and it's always possible that the art work will be immensely valuable and need careful restoration.

But that very remote possibility is insignificant compared to the mental and emotional benefits that children get by experiencing art, especially from an artistic genre they're unfamiliar with - like abstract art or surrealism or cubism.

Galleries themselves usually give children a warm welcome and are happy to let them appreciate famous and valuable art works. They're very forgiving on the odd occasion that a child accidentally damages something.

Like the four-year-old boy who last year smashed a priceless 3,500 year old vase to pieces at a gallery in Israel. Far from being outraged, the Hecht Museum invited the child back to the museum with his family for an organised tour. And there was no question of the family being asked to pay anything towards repairing the vase.

In my experience gallery attendants are very quick to stop anyone (both children and adults) from getting too near the exhibits, so the chance of something getting damaged is pretty remote.

Pic: Gray, Orange on Maroon by Mark Rothko

No aversion

Hannah suggests I have an aversion to children.

Not so. I have nothing against children, and in general I'm very tolerant of them. After all, I was a child myself once upon a time. But I have an aversion to children who behave badly, just as I have an aversion to oldies who behave badly. If a child is being rude or demanding endless attention or throwing things, of course I don't like it and I'll want them to be better behaved.

There are four children in the house next door and I have no problem with them. They're very well-behaved and mostly don't bother us in any way. The only minor annoyance is from the oldest son, who regularly kicks footballs into our garden. We chuck them back and that's that.

Grown adults can be much more tiresome, making tedious complaints about parking or dog mess or litter or bin emptying. You can't say, oh they're just having fun, you know what children are like, because they aren't children. They're meant to be intelligent and interesting, not a lot of dreary whingers and moaners.

Children come up with all sorts of intriguing ideas and observations. They're full of life and bubbly curiosity. Why would I have an aversion to them?

Fastidious, moi?

It's often said that oldies are more fastidious than the young, constantly complaining about this, that and the other thing.

I don't think that's true at all. Children are just as fastidious as the old, they simply fuss about different things.

They want a certain brand of trainers, or there's half a dozen foods they refuse to eat, or they hate certain colours, or their hair has got to be just so. Children can be so fussy over so many things that their parents despair.

In fact I have the impression kids are getting more fastidious by the day. They seem even more demanding and even keener to keep up with what their friends are doing and wearing and enthusing about. Or is that a mistaken impression?

Certainly when I was a kid I don't remember being especially demanding about anything at all. Most of the time I just did what my parents expected me to do. I ate what was put in front of me and I wore what my mother bought for me and I was polite and adaptable. My docility seems a bit pathetic by today's standards but I didn't find it abnormal at the time.

My personal fastidiousness is mainly centred on cleanliness and tidiness. I couldn't stand a house that was filthy dirty or full of clutter. Luckily Jenny is the same. A girlfriend and I once shared a flat with people who seemed oblivious to the increasing grubbiness and disorder and did nothing about it. After several exasperating weeks, we moved out.

Of course nobody likes to be described as fastidious. No, no, we just have our standards and we stick to them.

So much for reason

When I was young I believed people were basically rational and the world was run on a rational basis.

As I got older I realised this wasn't so. A lot of the time reason didn't come into it at all and all sorts of irrational considerations came into play.

I optimistically thought poverty could be ended easily if governments took more money from the wealthy and gave it to the poor.

Eventually it dawned on me that it wasn't so simple. Politicians were reluctant to tax the wealthy (especially if they were wealthy themselves). Some thought the poor should find their own way out of poverty and shouldn't need government help. Others thought the supposed poor weren't really poor at all and had hidden sources of income. And so on.

Likewise building more homes or increasing people's salaries or dealing with greedy landlords. What seems like the obvious solution is stymied by irrational objections that prevent any real progress.

Nowadays I tend to be a bit cynical about any grand plans announced by politicians. Instantly I envisage a flood of half-baked protests likely to stall those grand plans for years on end.

And meanwhile, despite endless pledges to abolish poverty for good, it gets worse. And worse.

A search to remember

Jenny and I have had a few occasions when we couldn't quite remember where we had parked the car, but we've always found it after a few minutes of wandering around looking for it. The initial panic quickly gives way to relief.

But imagine what it's like for someone who has absolutely no idea where he/she parked the car and spends the next three weeks (yes, three weeks) searching for it, getting more and more frustrated and bewildered.

Kieran (last name not known) had been to a stag party in Cork and couldn't find his wine-coloured Skoda Superb. He hadn't noted the road it was parked in so he had little to go on.

All he knew was that he had parked on an estate. So he methodically visited 59 different estates in the Cork suburbs - but to no avail.

Then he offered a €200 (£171) reward to anyone who could locate his car. And finally, he was in luck. A woman had seen the car on her estate in Ballyphehane.

That's certainly a stag party he won't forget in a hurry. "But sure I met the best people and had great craic" he said. And even greater craic after the party!

If Jenny and I park in some unfamiliar location, we always note the road it's in, and maybe some landmark the locals could identify and direct us to.

It was a routine problem in London, where parking spaces are scarce and often we had to park well away from the venue we were attending. Luckily we always found our car afterwards. So not much craic to be found there.

Pic: not Kieran!

Skirts only

You would think that by the year 2025 schoolgirls would be allowed to wear trousers instead of skirts, but there are still quite a few schools that insist on skirts, including the three schools near our house.

Now two Northern Irish students are pushing for a change in uniform rules.

Astrid Knox and Rhea Flood from Enniskillen have launched a campaign calling for girls to be allowed to wear trousers at school.

"You can learn the same in trousers as in skirts" said Rhea.

I don't understand why schools still insist on girls wearing skirts, and not giving them the choice of skirts or trousers. Trousers are obviously more sensible and easier to move around in.

Skirts are sometimes justified on the basis that they're "traditional". Well, bikinis and high heels are traditional, but we don't expect to see them on schoolgirls.

There was no uniform to speak of at my two schools. A shirt, jacket and trousers were all I needed, though my prep school required the official school blazer with its blue and white stripes. It still does (and I noticed in passing that the girls are wearing skirts).

If schools insist on having a uniform (and there are arguments for and against) they might at least require one that's comfortable and practical.

NB: The photo is from an advert, so I assume she was happy for her photo to be circulated.

A spot of ginger

There is still a lot of prejudice against people with ginger hair. There doesn't seem to be any particular reason, simply blind prejudice.

Mainly it just involves teasing and poking fun, but sometimes it can get violent. Some years ago a 14-year-old boy in Lincoln had his right arm broken and his head stamped on by three men who attacked him "just because he had red hair". The three men were later jailed for a combined total of ten years and one month for the attack.

What is it about someone's hair colour that causes such negative reactions? It's not as if ginger-haired people turn out to be murderers or rapists. They just happen to have ginger hair.

There are odd beliefs about red heads. That they have fiery tempers and sharp tongues. That they're highly sexed. That they're Jewish.

In the Middle Ages red heads were thought to be vampires and witches, and it was believed that burning them and scattering the ashes would produce a good harvest.

But there have also been periods when ginger hair was prized. Queen Elizabeth the First was a red head and the hair colour became very fashionable during her reign. How come the fashion didn't last?

Personally I love ginger hair. It makes such a vivid impression compared with blonde and dark hair. Which makes me wonder if the prejudice is based on jealousy. Maybe the bullies would secretly like to have such dramatic hair.

(Thanks to Wikipedia)

So much clutter

Apparently despite all those TV programmes and media articles about decluttering, if anything the problem's getting worse.

Studies show that a third of the possessions in a typical UK home aren't used. Not only that but many people have forgotten they owned the items in the first place.

Garages are used more and more not for housing cars but storing all those items we can't fit into the house.

Jenny and I are pretty ruthless about getting rid of unwanted items, but even so there are still a few surplus items that could swiftly be disposed of. But it's easy to find bogus reasons for hanging onto things.

When I met Jenny I was living in a tiny bedsit, and I simply couldn't buy very much because there was absolutely no storage space. As we moved up the property ladder to bigger flats and then bigger houses, of course we acquired lots of bits and pieces to fill the extra room. So if we got rid of too much there would just be a lot of strange empty spaces.

Our biggest possession is books. We must have at least a thousand but we chuck our very few because we fully intend to re-read most of them. In reality most of them don't get re-read, they just sit there gathering dust or sometimes they're so old they simply fall to pieces.

Some of you will recall that my mother was a chronic hoarder. Luckily I haven't inherited that particular trait.

Hard to say

Social anxiety is a bit of a bugger, isn't it?

There I am at another routine social event, confronted by some total stranger, wondering what the hell to say to her or him. And my mind goes completely blank.

I search my mind for suitable topics. The strange turn in the weather? The political crisis? The price of olive oil? Electric cars?

For some reason no subject seems suitable.

They'll think I'm weird if I talk about something obscure.

But they'll also think I'm weird if I say nothing at all.

I'd love to be one of those natural chatterboxes who can not only effortlessly start a conversation but keep it going for a good half hour.

How do they do it?

My tongue-tied stance comes from my family. Almost every one of them is and was fiercely taciturn. Speaking is only permitted if there's something very important or urgent to say. Otherwise lips are sealed.

So I'm just very out of practice at this chattering lark.

I need one of those ear-phones TV presenters wear, so someone can feed me suitable comments and questions.

Or maybe I just need a badge that says "Ask me an awkward question".

How on earth....

One thing that's mystified me for many many years is how someone is able to kill another person - or even thousands of people - without any regret or remorse or guilt or shame or any of the normal emotions that would prevent most of us from doing something so appalling.

They might even brag about what they're doing as if it's something to be proud of - like Nicholas Prosper, who wanted to commit the biggest school massacre ever (and luckily was stopped in his tracks).

They just don't see their victims as human beings but as worthless objects to be "dealt with" in the name of some sort of personal grudge or grievance or festering hostility. Something has obviously gone horribly wrong in their upbringing.

I couldn't possibly injure another person, let alone kill them. I couldn't possibly do something with such horrendous consequences both for me and for the other person - no to mention for their family and friends. How could I possibly justify my action? Likewise I couldn't bring myself to commit suicide.

As for those individuals who're happy to start wars and kill thousands or even millions of people - I can't imagine how they manage to sleep at night, how they're able to continue with their duties as if nothing unusual is happening.

It just stupefies me. The mental state of someone who can do such things is so far removed from my own mental state that the gap is unbridgeable. I can't even begin to understand what's going through their mind. Can anyone?

One thing it makes very clear - you can never know what's going on in someone else's head. Maybe something wonderful. Or maybe something utterly hideous.

Not a patriot

It's trendy these days to back patriotism and nationalism. Meaning being proud of your country, overlooking its faults and shortcomings, and regarding other countries as second-rate.

Well, I'm not joining the trend. I'm not at all proud of my country, I'm well aware of all its faults and shortcomings, and I think there are plenty of countries that are doing better than ours.

What's to be proud of? A failing economy? Collapsing public services? Widespread misogyny and trolling? Rampant racism? It's not a country to be proud of but one to be embarrassed by.

I was last proud of my country probably in the 1970s, when there was a definite sense of a society that looked after its most vulnerable citizens and wanted everyone to have a satisfying life. I grew up at a time when there were no tuition fees, unemployment benefit was generous, and salaries and working conditions were much better than they are now.

It's just embarrassing when the government flaunts union jacks at its news conferences. Or when people wear union jack tee shirts. Or when football fans wave the St George's flag, the flag of England. Are they really proud of their country? It's hard to believe.

But it's awkward when I happen to live in a country I'm not in any way proud of. I tend to sidestep any conversation that turns to patriotism unless I know the person shares my own views. It could turn nasty.

A lack of empathy?

Someone once said to me that I was totally lacking in empathy, in fact that I was the least empathetic person she had ever known.

Which surprised me (apart from the extraordinary rudeness), because I've always seen myself as an empathetic person. And because nobody else has ever accused me of the same thing.

Maybe I'm fooling myself. Maybe I am indeed short of empathy but I fondly imagine the opposite.

Empathy is harder if someone is going through some experience I've never had, like pregnancy or a terminal illness, but that doesn't mean I lack empathy.

In some ways I think I have too much empathy (if such a thing is possible). I really feel for all those people around the world who're living in desperate circumstances - victims of poverty, disease, genocide, civil war, and so many other horrific situations. There's no way I can just shut it all out and focus on my comfortable everyday life.

I empathise easily with those who're victims in some way, who've been badly treated and exploited by others. How could anyone not empathise with them?

It may be that I empathise quite easily but I find it hard to express that empathy, so people think I'm a bit cold. I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing so I say nothing.

But people do have some very odd opinions about me.

Laptop tensions

People have mixed feelings about those individuals who use coffee shops as their office and tap away at their laptop for hours, oblivious to those customers who can't find a seat because they're occupied by the laptop brigade.

Journalist Emily Watkins is a staunch defender of WFCS (Working From Coffee Shops) though she thinks a lot of laptoppers abuse the coffee shops' indulgence by misbehaving in various ways.

She says they often linger for far too long (sometimes several hours), they spend the least amount possible, they talk on their phones, they use Zoom, and they stay put even when the coffee shop is full to bursting.

Whenever we go to our local Caffè Nero, there are always two or three people busy on their laptops and acting as though they're perfectly entitled to be there. And yes, it can be hard to find a vacant seat.

Some coffee shops, like Starbucks, are clamping down on the laptop workers and either banning them altogether, or imposing a strict time limit for being there, and charging them if they want to stay longer.

Most coffee shops lose out financially to laptop workers, as they tend to spend the bare minimum and usually a lot less than other customers.

Personally I think they should be banned from coffee shops altogether as they're not bona fide customers and wouldn't be tolerated in other shops. That may seem draconian but it's very simple - coffee shops aren't offices.

Do not touch

Can you believe it? People can't resist touching the statue of the fictional Molly Malone in Dublin city centre - and in particular touching her breasts. The constant touching has led to discolouring - and offended locals.

Now 23-year-old student Tilly Cripwell is campaigning for Dublin Council to repair the statue and raise it to a less accessible level.

Unfortunately several tour operators have included the statue in their list of local attractions, encouraging more physical contact. Also an urban myth has emerged that touching the statue's breasts will bring good luck.

Dublin Council says it's considering the campaigner's requests and has asked for cost quotations for carrying out the work.

I've never actually seen the statue in situ but I can understand the objection to visitors casually groping her breasts as if that's okay ("It's only a statue" as some of them put it).

The Council could put up a "Do Not Touch" sign but how many people would take any notice?

Molly Malone isn't a real person of course. She was a legendary Dublin woman who sold shellfish in the city streets. She's the subject of a traditional folk song that's now the city's unofficial anthem.

Anyway, the next time I'm in Dublin I'll check out the statue - and see if anyone's fondling it.

PS: The lyrics are here: https://www.google.com/search?q=molly+malone+lyrics

Till death us do part?

Considering how long marriages are now meant to last - maybe 60 to 70 years - it's not surprising that so many spouses get restless and start looking elsewhere.

At one time people died in their 30s and there was barely any time for disenchantment to set in. Even when I was young people still died in their 60s so marriage didn't last nearly so long. But still we pledge to stay married "until death us do part".

So it shouldn't really be remarkable that after a while some people find their marriages stale and unfulfilling and start affairs or abandon the marriage altogether.

Jenny and I have been lucky enough to stay together despite our ever-changing personalities and opinions. Whatever differences we've had were never enough to drive us apart. I suppose the key thing that unites us is a shared political perspective. If one of us abruptly became a fervent right-winger that would separate us for sure.

When a marriage breaks down the spurned partner can be devastated, but with today's marriages lasting so long such a breakdown has to be seen as a possibility from the start. You can't assume you'll still be together a few decades down the line.

Some people may say that a successful marriage flows along of its own accord, but I don't think that's true. In my experience you do have to work at it, before minor disagreements and annoyances turn into serious rifts.

By this stage of course there's little chance of Jenny or I suddenly starting a passionate affair, but who knows?

Not ready

It's appalling to learn that so many children starting school nowadays lack all sorts of basic skills and abilities like using the toilet, climbing a staircase, reading books, or even getting dressed.

Their deficiencies are so common that the government is to introduce a checklist of skills that children should possess by the time they start school.

Teachers are increasingly finding that on top of their normal teaching functions they're having to do things like changing nappies and helping children up the stairs - things parents should have taken care of long before start of school.

As I recall from my early schooldays, there weren't any children who lacked such basic skills. It would have been totally shocking if they had. My mother obviously had a very clear idea of what school readiness meant, and would have been mortified if I'd turned up at school in nappies.

It seems a lot of young children are simply not getting enough exercise and not using their muscles enough to strengthen them because they spend so much time looking at screens.

While nine out of ten parents considered their child ready for school, teachers said one in three children weren't. Some parental education is plainly much needed.