Never hooked

I've never been hooked on alcohol. It has a pleasant taste and it relaxes me a bit but I can take it or leave it. In fact I've now given up alcohol entirely and I haven't missed it for a second (Jenny has more or less given up as well).

I didn't have any alcohol until I was 23, when I was an evening student at a London college and a group of us would go round to the pub after the lesson.

Like the others, I tipped the alcohol down with gay abandon, and put up with the inevitable hangover the next morning. It was only after a hangover so appalling I was barely able to function that I decided to severely cut down my drinking.

After I left college I stopped drinking altogether and I drank no alcohol for a good decade until I met Jenny and we started socialising a lot, which led me back to alcohol.

We never drank that much, but there were evenings when we would consume a whole bottle of wine. We've been drinking less and less and a couple of months ago decided to quit alcohol altogether.

For me alcohol has never had the supposed benefits people mention. It doesn't make me more confident, or more talkative, or more vivacious, or help me to cope with a big shock. Usually it just makes me sleepy and vague and not very good company.

We're also saving a pile of money of course, especially at restaurants where a single glass of wine can set you back seven quid. Is it worth it?

Incidentally why is copious alcohol the routine way to celebrate? Couldn't we celebrate some other way?

Festive fork-out

Is it outrageous to charge your family members for their Christmas meal? Or is it fair that you shouldn't have to bear the full cost yourself and the other diners should pay for their share?

Last year Carla Bellucci charged her guests £150 each for their Christmas meal. This year she's charging £200 ($252). She justifies the £50 increase as covering the rising cost of food and utilities. She says "Paying up is the least they can do for all the time and effort I'm putting in." *

Only adults and teenagers over 16 are required to pay, while younger children dine for free. She says anyone unwilling to pay is welcome to decline the invitation.

Not surprisingly she has received a torrent of online abuse, including death and rape threats. But a lot of people agree with her that the cost should be shared.

It's a valid point that expecting one person to foot the whole cost of the Christmas meal is rather unfair, on top of all the other Christmas expenses. But I suspect that many of the guests quietly slip the host a tenner or two towards the cost.

But £200 a head is a pretty hefty charge, especially since she expects the guests to bring their own alcohol and drinks. Are they being served caviar and oysters? Are the choicest ingredients being flown in from across the world?

Jenny and I are dodging the whole controversy. It'll be just the two of us for our Christmas meal. And it certainly won't cost us £400.

* Maybe she's also charging for the time and effort?

A love of tea

We Brits have always been known for our love of tea. Tea umpteen times a day and if anyone drops in unexpectedly the first thing you offer them is a cup of tea.

Except that our love of traditional tea is now declining and people are opting for other drinks instead. Like herbal tea, fruit tea and green tea. Or of course coffee. Youngsters in particular are shunning traditional tea, which some see as an old person's drink.

Well, tea consumption isn't slowing down in our household. We drink five or six cups of tea a day and only one or two cups of coffee. I used to have the occasional herbal tea though I still preferred the real thing, as it were.

When we're staying in hotels there's never enough tea in our room and invariably we nip out to get extra tea bags (except at Premier Inn where you can help yourself to as many tea bags as you want).

Luckily we don't live in the 17th century, when tea was still very expensive and only the wealthy could afford it. Also the first tea cups didn't have handles, which only became the norm in the 18th century.

Iced tea may seem new, but it's anything but. It was praised by the Irish novelist Marguerite Countess of Blessington in the 1820s and rapidly became popular. But iced tea is not for me, I like my tea hot.

If I have to go too long without tea, I feel seriously deprived. I just love the taste.

Over the top

It seems that elaborate weddings aren't going out of favour but are more popular than ever, and many attendees are complaining about how much money they're expected to fork out.

There are often complaints that they're expected to spend way more than they spent on their own wedding, especially if the wedding takes place not locally but in some distant location, requiring flights and hotels.

Expenses can include the wedding gift, maybe a bridesmaid dress, bridal shower gift, and hair and make-up.

"Why are we normalising this behaviour?" said one bridesmaid. "I'm so happy to celebrate my friend's special day, but it's getting out of hand. What happened to just getting together a few days before the wedding to celebrate?"

As most of you will know, Jenny and I had the exact opposite of a grand wedding. We married in the local registry office with just two witnesses, and then the four of us went out for a celebratory meal. We would never have expected our friends to lash out huge sums to attend an over-the-top wedding.

I would have thought that with the escalating cost of living, people would spend as little as they could on their wedding and save as much cash as possible for future expenses like buying a house. But no, they want to get hitched in style.

And do those fancy weddings work or do they end in tears? In a survey of 4,000 married couples, more than 50% said they'd felt regret at some point in their marriage. They thought they'd married the wrong person, or the love was never mutual, or their partner's personality changed.

Personally I've never had any regrets. Luckily Jenny and I clicked right from the start.

Unwanted cats

How very sad. People are abandoning their cats like never before and cat shelters and charities are overwhelmed with the sheer number of cats - and kittens - coming through their doors.

The cats are being abandoned for various reasons. Because their owners can no longer afford them, what with the cost of living shooting up and veterinary fees rocketing. Because the owners just didn't realise how much attention they need. Because they've had kittens. Because they're over-active and disruptive. Because of a move to accommodation that forbids pets.

Many of the cats were bought during the pandemic lockdown to keep people occupied, which was fine until the reality of looking after a pet struck home and the cat was no longer welcome.

Jenny and I have never kept a cat, mainly because of the care and attention it would demand, which is okay if you're happy with that commitment but not otherwise. I love cats and I love seeing them when I'm out and about, but I love them strictly at a distance. If I did have a cat, I'm sure it would be disappointed with my minimal level of fondling and stroking.

Many cats don't warm to me anyway. Most of them run a mile when they see me. I've no idea why - is it my height, my glasses, or some strange vibe I'm putting out? The odd thing is that a small number of cats, far from running away, are ultra-friendly and keen to be petted.

People acquiring cats may not realise just what they're taking on. Cats can live up to 20 years, and like humans can develop a range of medical conditions as they age - like dental disease, arthritis, incontinence and loss of muscle strength. They're no light-hearted hobby.

Surprise surprise

Do you like surprises or do you find them awkward and embarrassing?

How do you feel about surprise workplace leaving dos, surprise birthday parties, surprise outings, surprise promotions - or surprise anything else?

For me it rather depends on the particular surprise. When I left my last workplace, there was a surprise farewell, with people saying I'd done a good job and handing me a generous gift voucher. I was very embarrassed, didn't know quite how to respond, and stumbled through a clumsy thank-you.

I've never had a surprise birthday party, but I imagine I would be equally embarrassed if I walked into one. So much fuss over such a prosaic event!

I'm okay with surprise outings - as long as it's not to a boxing match or a battery chicken plant. And I'm all in favour of surprise promotions - not that I ever received one!

But in general I don't like things being sprung on me, especially when I had other plans that I have to abandon. I like to know what's coming, which maybe sounds a bit rigid but that's the way I am.

I guess my upbringing has something to do with it. There were seldom any big surprises in my family, as none of us was keen on them.

I guess the biggest surprise in my life was meeting Jenny and finding we got on like a house on fire. That was one surprise I was very happy with. The covid epidemic was another big surprise, one I could have done without.

What other surprises are waiting in the wings, I wonder?

Not a doctor

There's some uneasiness in the UK over the role of physician associates (there are some 80 in Northern Ireland). Patients who have never come across them before may think they're doctors or even surgeons. And some physician associates have made fatal mistakes because of inadequate training or supervision.

They have much less training than doctors (a two year course) and can only carry out a limited range of procedures, like physical examinations and taking medical histories from patients.

Patients who don't know they're physician associates may assume they have a level of knowledge and competence they don't actually have.

The husband of Susan Pollitt, who died in Oldham after a drain was wrongly left for too long in her body, said earlier this month that he didn't know the person treating her in hospital wasn't a doctor.

Emily Chesterton died after a physician associate at a GP surgery in north London - who she thought was a doctor - twice wrongly diagnosed the pain in her calf as due to a strain rather than a blood clot.

The Health Minister has now announced a review of physician associates and their role amid growing alarm in the medical profession over patient safety.

I must say I would be a bit wary of a physician associate attending to me (if I even knew that's what they were). They should at least have badges stating their role.

And surely they're not qualified to make diagnoses, which is a very advanced skill that even doctors can easily get wrong.

Yes, time for taking stock, I think.

Pic: So who do we have here? Physician associates? Doctors? Surgeons?

Thoroughly lovely

In 2013, as a counter-balance to all my undesirable qualities (psychological hang-ups, poor memory, inattentiveness etc) I listed some of my (hopefully) more attractive qualities. For the benefit of more recent blog friends, I thought I would give them another airing.*

At the risk of seeming smug, patronising, supercilious, self-righteous, priggish and holier-than-thou, here are all my thoroughly lovely qualities.

• I don't harbour malicious thoughts about family, friends or loved ones
• I don't make anonymous attacks on Twitter/X
• I'm not interested in porn
• I'm not misogynistic, homophobic or transphobic (so he claims)
• I'm deeply disturbed by all the poverty, violence, misery and oppression in the world
• I've never had an extra-marital affair
• I like fluffy kittens and cupcakes
• I mind my own business and try not to judge other people's lives
• I don't gossip, and I'm good at keeping secrets
• I don't annoy the neighbours with loud music or all-night parties
• I deplore machismo and male posturing
• I do my share of the housework
• I'm a good listener
• I don't hide my emotions
• I'm not easily offended
• I'm not the jealous type
• I like teddy bears and ice cream
• I'm not an angry or bad-tempered person
• I readily apologise when I've done something wrong
• I've never bullied anyone

 *slightly amended

Not enough empathy

"The death of human empathy is one of the earliest and most telling signs of a culture about to fall into barbarism." - Hannah Arendt

There's a lot of truth in that. If you can't appreciate what other people are going through, their particular ordeals and disappointments and horrors, then there's nothing to stop you treating people cruelly and ruthlessly.

There seems to be a distinct lack of empathy right now. Politicians condemn the "work-shy" and the "not really sick" and those whose poverty is a "lifestyle choice". Trans activists condemn those who don't share their beliefs as bigots and fascists. Nameless individuals on social media attack anyone who is seen as offensive, elitist or politically incorrect. Newspapers pour hatred at criminals and politicians and public officials. Many ordinary individuals don't trust politicians and believe they're all feathering their nests.

There are plenty of things going on that could be described as barbaric. People who're jailed for minor offences. The deep hostility to immigrants. Poor people struggling to survive on inadequate welfare benefits. People who mistreat animals. Innocent people who're beaten up by the police. People who laugh at the disabled. Domestic violence and sexual assaults.

A lot of these things wouldn't be happening if there was more empathy towards the victims, a greater ability to identify with them, more outrage at the way some people are treated. But people are rather too adept at avoiding empathy and pretending hideous things aren't really going on - or aren't as bad as they seem.

One thing preventing empathy is that people who're in trouble are often seen as the author of their own misfortunes, suffering through their own fecklessness or stupidity. This is seldom the case and this callous blame-the-victim syndrome has to end.

Wanderlust

A constant desire to travel used to be called wanderlust, which was seen as something a bit abnormal. But now wanderlust is the norm and hordes of people are forever travelling the world as if it's the obvious thing to do.

A couple of times recently someone has asked me about my holiday plans, and when I say we're probably going somewhere in Britain, there seems to be a slight sense that this is strange, that we should be going somewhere more exciting and impressive, like  Machu Picchu or Angkor Wat.

But this wanderlust tendency isn't limited to an occasional thrilling holiday. Lots of people, it seems are travelling more or less permanently, with only the odd pause to catch up with domestic needs. Jenny's brother and his partner (both retired) are always either on holiday or planning the next one.

Some cruise enthusiasts go from one cruise to another, and are away from home for months on end. And then there's Anderson Dias, who visited all 195 countries in 2019.

Unfortunately the increasing and apparently insatiable desire to travel is what's causing over-tourism in lots of popular destinations and greatly upsetting the locals, whose daily lives have been disrupted by a huge influx of inconsiderate and demanding visitors.

Personally I'm not gripped by wanderlust. I've been to several countries that interested me and that's enough. I've no restless desire to tick off more and more places on the global map, no burning curiosity to see what this or that country "is really like".

Machu Picchu will just have to get by without me.

Meatlessness

Next year I will have been a vegetarian for 50 years. Right through my childhood and most of my twenties I happily ate meat, and then overnight I rejected it.

What happened was that I stayed for a week with a couple of gay friends in their Welsh cottage. I discovered they were both vegetarians and I thought it would be absurd for me to insist on making meat dishes for myself. So I decided to eschew (what a lovely word!) meat for the week.

When I returned home I realised I hadn't missed meat for a second and as vegetarianism was supposedly a healthier diet - and meant not killing animals - I thought I might as well continue to avoid meat.

When I met Jenny, who was a meat eater, and told her I was a vegetarian, she decided to join me. And the rest, as they say, is history. We were (and are) both fit and healthy and never saw any reason for going back to meat.

I'm glad to say I've never faced any active hostility from meat-eaters. In general people accept my meatlessness quite matter-of-factly. The only person who seemed totally bemused by it was my mother. I had to keep reminding her I was a vegetarian as she kept "forgetting". No, mum, I don't eat pork sausages.

So I have Ron and Paul to thank for my conversion 49 years ago.

PS: Researchers at Loma Linda University in the States have shown vegetarian men live on average 10 years longer than non-vegetarian men - 83 years compared to 73 years. For women, being vegetarian added an extra 6 years to their lives, reaching 85 years on average.

Wonky teeth

For a long time the British have been known for their dreadful teeth - not very white, not very straight, sometimes just gaps instead of teeth.

It seems that things are changing. One survey said that 53 per cent of under-35s have had cosmetic dental work. And many celebrities sport pristine rows of shiny white teeth that ironically look entirely artificial.

Personally I find slightly wonky teeth much more attractive than the visually perfect variety that are now so ubiquitous. David Bowie's less than perfect teeth were part of his appeal, and I was disappointed when he finally took against them and went for some better ones.

My own teeth are not very white, and two of my front teeth overlap, but it's never bothered me - or Jenny. Nobody's going to avoid me because they dislike my teeth. I certainly don't want to spend thousands of pounds remaking my teeth to fit some fashionable aesthetic image.

We're encouraged to buy all sorts of special accessories to clean our teeth more thoroughly - floss, inter-dental brushes, electric toothbrushes etc - but do they really make much difference? I just use a standard toothbrush and that works for me. I still have all 26 teeth, though some of them are well-filled (six teeth were extracted when I was a boy as my jaws were too small to accommodate all 32).

My teeth are just fine as they are. As the saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Making yourself ill

The idea is regularly mooted in the UK that people shouldn't get free medical treatment - or any medical treatment at all - if they've "made themselves ill". It's only a small minority who take this line, but they always get plenty of media attention, as if it's a wonderful idea.

If people drink too much, take drugs, smoke, engage in risky activities, or become enormously fat, goes the argument, then they shouldn't qualify for NHS treatment and they should be left to their own devices. If their behaviour leads to severe medical conditions, they should be left to seek treatment at their own expense and not expect the taxpayer to step in and sort them out.

Well, apart from the fact that the NHS has always pledged to be free at the point of use, regardless of personal circumstances and regardless of financial status, deciding that certain people shouldn't qualify for NHS treatment would be the start of a slippery slope. Once you begin turning away certain individuals, where would it end? The exemptions would proliferate until whole swathes of people could no longer use the NHS.

Furthermore, if people happen to have engrained psychological weaknesses that have led to illness - lack of self-control, recklessness, impulsiveness, whatever - why should be penalised for it? They may have tried many times to change their behaviour and failed. Or their behaviour might be a response to distressing personal circumstances they find it hard to cope with. People don't simply "make themselves ill".

Another case of engaging mouth without engaging brain.

NB: Of course all this only applies to the NHS because health care is organised quite differently in the States.

The outside world

I suddenly had a eureka moment. I realised my idea of the "outside world" was all wrong.

For some time I've been feeling a bit depressed about the state of the outside world with all its horrors and brutality and inhumanity.

Then it came to me that actually I know next to nothing of the outside world. It's so complex and intricate and enormous that I can't possibly know more than a minute fraction of it.

I might think I know all about (for example) climate change or the polar ice cap or deforestation but I'm kidding myself.

Even what I do know is mostly what the media tells me. And that's often highly suspect. Firstly they only tell us what they think is important, secondly they put their particular slant on it, and thirdly they sensationalise everything. Which means even that tiny bit of knowledge is very unreliable.

So what I refer to as the "outside world" is either a heavily filtered media offering or my own mental picture of the outside world. Neither of those is anything but a sketchy idea of the real thing.

In which case feeling depressed about the outside world is irrational because I'll never have a complete picture of it, and I'm therefore feeling depressed about something that's mostly unknown and unknowable.

So I should stop feeling depressed about the "outside world" and save my dejection for something manifest and tangible.

Simples!

All you can eat

I'm not one of those people who goes crazy at the sight of a buffet and piles my plate with as much food as possible to "get my money's worth". I don't abuse my stomach. But it seems some people don't know when to stop.

Some restaurants and hotels are concerned at the amount of food some people are grabbing, especially when they don't eat it all and leave half of it on their plate.

Mark Graham, landlord of the Star Inn in Penzance, Cornwall, now charges £2.40 a person for buffet "excess leftovers". A few spuds is obviously no problem, he told a customer who complained, but buffet behaviour was out of control, citing a plate "piled so high you could put a ladder and a flag on top of it."

When Jenny and I stay at the Premier Inn, we always opt for their buffet breakfast and have a generous amount of cold and cooked food to set us up for the day's wanderings. But we don't take more than we need.

Surely those people who leave half their food must realise they're taking far too much, so why do they do it?

Do they imagine they're in some kind of eating contest? Are they trying to get a bigger and better paunch? Is it some kind of comfort eating? I don't get it.

Careful how you eat. A Liverpool woman dislocated her jaw trying to eat a triple burger

Religious and happy

Apparently research shows that religious people are happier and healthier than atheists. But is this true? If so, as a life-long atheist I'm heading for a miserable and premature demise.

One study shows that someone's religious commitment, such as how often they attended church, was linked with a lower risk of depression, anxiety, suicide, heart disease and death from cancer.

Supposedly religion also gives you a sense of social connection and community, a sense of purpose, and reduces loneliness and isolation.

Well, I know atheists and I know believers, and it's hard to say who's happier, because people aren't necessarily truthful about their inner feelings. People can pretend to be happy when actually they're feeling despondent and pessimistic.

Certainly I'm happy enough despite my very early rejection of religion. So is Jenny. Neither of us feel the need for an external belief system to help us navigate our lives (though I totally respect those who find religion helpful).

It's easy to think of religious people you know who aren't at all happy, but no doubt they're the exception that proves the rule. My mother was religious but ended her life feeling gloomy about her physical and mental decline. Her parents on the other hand (from what I saw of them) were religious and happy.

Of course you can argue that actually I do have an external belief system - socialism. And does it make me happy? That would be a whole new post....

Not so old?

Like most people, I guess, I take news of some especially long-lived oldie quite uncritically, but apparently a lot of these amazing ages may not be genuine, due to dubious documentation and other errors.

In 2010, more than 230,000 Japanese centenarians turned out to be missing, imaginary, clerical errors or dead. In Greece 72 per cent of census-reported centenarians in 2012 were discovered to be no longer alive.

Do we even want to live so long? Rising numbers of oldies are enduring chronic medical conditions that restrict their quality of life. And do we really want to wake up every day to yet more horrific crimes, international conflicts, dictators and corporate greed? Better a shortened age with a good quality of life than an advanced age that isn't any fun any more.

My mum lived until 96, by which time her quality of life was pretty poor. She had had dementia for several years, and had problems with walking and personal care, as well as having limited physical energy. Quite honestly, she would have been better off if she had died a few years earlier.

So I don't take any notice of people's sure-fire blueprints for living longer. I'll leave others to test them out. I'll happily accept whatever life span I've been allotted, as long as I'm still fit enough to enjoy it.

Meddling bullshit

People can't resist the urge to speculate madly about some police investigation, despite being warned that such speculation is obstructing official inquiries and spreading all sorts of wild conjecture.

The partner of Nicola Bulley, who was missing for 33 days early in the year, has described the online obsession with her disappearance as a monster that got out of control.

Paul Ansell said his family initially welcomed the huge public interest, but that changed when amateur sleuths on social media began posting numerous misleading theories about what had happened.

They accused him of killing her, misconstrued the limited information available, and released personal details about Nicola. Some people travelled to Lancashire to "help" the police, and simply got in the way.

Airing dubious theories in private to your family or friends is one thing (and I'm tempted to speculate as much as anyone else) but posting those theories online to thousands of impressionable people who're likely to keep repeating them indefinitely is another.

Of course a lot of the online speculation is just about getting attention, and the more attention the merrier.

Some of the would-be pundits even make out they're smarter than the police and have spotted things the police have overlooked. The sheer arrogance and self-inflation is breathtaking.

Unfortunately social media provides a perfect platform for these outpourings of meddling bullshit.

Pic: Nicola Bulley

Waited on

I sometimes fantasise about being so rich I can have everything done for me while I laze around doing nothing. I would be waited on hand and foot and not have to move a muscle.

But would I really enjoy that? Actually I think I'd hate it. I like doing things for myself and organising my own life. I wouldn't want other people butting in and doing things for me.

Apart from anything else they'd probably never do anything exactly the way I wanted it done and I'd have to keep putting them right. Or they'd be hanging around when I wanted a bit of privacy. Or I wouldn't get on with them and there'd be constant friction and annoyance.

How do the Royals put up with all the flunkeys attending to their every need? I suppose they've been waited on for so long they're totally used to it and would be horrified at having to do everything themselves.

I suppose being waited on is generally seen as a sign of luxury, but I'd rather have the luxury of doing things for myself the way I want to do them. Why be constantly beholden to other people for the most basic everyday actions?

For a while in London we took on a cleaner because we were both working full time and found it hard to fit in the housework. I was never comfortable about it though, I always felt we should somehow be managing to do the cleaning ourselves.

But I wouldn't mind a chauffeur to take over the hassle of driving.

Turning the clock back

I'm perpetually amazed by the number of people who desperately want to look younger, and resort to all sorts of dubious methods to achieve it. Why are they no sooner middle-aged than they want to turn the clock back and look young again? What's so awful about the way they look as they get older?

I've never wanted to look younger, I'm quite happy with the way I look at 77. I suppose I turned a few heads when I was young but I don't sit around pining for my lost looks and envying the latest generation of pretty young things.

Instead of wanting to look young again and wanting the attention that might bring, why can't we just be a bit more positive about the entirely natural appearance of older people instead of being embarrassed by it and seeking to erase it?

To my mind, many people look wise and more distinguished as they age, while the very young can look quite bland and characterless. And older people, because they've knocked around a bit, often have fascinating back stories.

But no, people want to slice away as many years as possible and artificially turn back time, and they'll try absolutely anything to get the desired effect. Botox, surgery, shapewear, anti-ageing cream, dental enhancements. Whatever it takes, and whatever it costs.

It's always tragic when some perfectly healthy youngster opts for a dodgy procedure at some unregulated foreign clinic and returns home with serious after-effects that the NHS has to put right. If they're even more unlucky, they might die on the operating table, leaving their family and friends to grieve.

We all have to grow older. Why try to fight it?

Edinburgh

All can now be revealed. I'm not on my death bed, I'm not in prison, I haven't been scammed for thousands of pounds. Jenny and I have just had a few days in Edinburgh.

We went to various museums and galleries, we went to Belfast Zoo, we went to Leith, which is the latest trendy Edinburgh district, and we met up with our old friend Sheila. Sheila was one of my oldest blog mates until she gave up blogging but turned into a long-term friend.

We stayed at the Premier Inn, which we've stayed at several times, but this time the standard had slipped a bit. The shower temperature was either very hot or stone cold, the fridge door was hanging off its hinges, and the windows hadn't been cleaned for a long while, which rather spoiled our view of Edinburgh Castle. But the hotel was warm and clean, the staff were friendly, and we had some great cooked breakfasts.

My favourite animals at the zoo were the meerkats. I love the way they stand on their back legs with their front legs drooping, watching what's going on. I also love the lemurs, which I'm told are the most endangered species on the planet - 95 per cent of lemur species are at risk of extinction.

Some facts about Edinburgh:

• The city is built on an extinct volcano
• It has more trees per head of population than any other UK city
• It has more listed buildings than anywhere in the world
• Grassmarket has a history of executions. Thieves, murderers and political outcasts were regularly hanged in the 18th and 19th centuries
• A unicorn is the national animal of Scotland

All in all, it was a bonnie wee holiday.

Intermission

There will now be a short intermission

I leave you with a selfie - in Brighton, May 2024

Just marvelling

Things (and people) I marvel at:

• Aeroplanes. How do these massive things manage to stay in the air?
• The internet. All 1613 of my posts are stored in some data centre somewhere. Not to mention endless information available at the click of a mouse. And dozens of other uses.
• Squirrels. They're considered to be among the most intelligent animals in the world. Known for their quickness, intellect, memory, and ability to plan ahead.
• Smart phones. Revolutionised communication. A mobile phone, camera and computer in one device.
• Cutting edge surgery and medical treatment. Previously incurable conditions can now be beaten.
• Love. What is it that makes us fall in love - possibly for an entire lifetime?
• The human brain. For its imagination, its ability to think and reason, its grasp of complexities, and its sudden surprising insights.
• Rock stars who're still alive despite the drugs, the booze, the junk food, the late nights. Mick Jagger is now 81.
• The pianist Yuja Wang. Her astonishing dexterity.
• The mass murmurations of starlings. How come they never collide with each other?
• Chinese trains that can travel at up to 286 mph.
• Polyglots. Like Ziad Fazah from Lebanon, who claims he can read and speak 58 languages including Arabic, Polish, Thai, Urdu, Norwegian, and many more. What's his secret?

There are probably many more things I marvel at, but they don't come to mind right now. I might add a few items as I think of them. We all need to marvel more and scoff less.

A right royal hoo-ha

Well, that's quite enough earnest introspection. And now for something completely different.

No sooner was a new statue of the late Queen and Prince Philip unveiled at Antrim Castle in County Antrim than it was widely ridiculed, a common opinion being that the female figure looked nothing like the Queen, and that Prince Philip didn't look much like Prince Philip.

One critic even suggested that the late monarch looked more like Mrs Doubtfire. And Philip looks more like a movie villain about to roast some useless underling.

Antrim and Newtownabbey Borough Council commissioned the local artist Anto Brennan to create the sculpture and claimed to be delighted, saying it captured the Queen "in a dignified pose, reflecting her grace, steadfastness and life-long devotion to public service."

But Vera McWilliam, an Antrim and Newtownabbey councillor, thought the critics had a point. "We have to be honest, it does not resemble the queen in any shape or form."

Other statues that have been roundly derided tend to be discreetly removed. I await with interest whether this statue meets the same fate.

Another statue of Philip dressed as a don, erected in Cambridge at an estimated cost of £150,000, was also derided and removed. Presumably a similar sum was spent on the controversial statue of the two Royals.

Anto Brennan hasn't made any public comment on his statue as yet.

Pic: The contentious statue

Inhibitions

Funny things, inhibitions. You can be totally inhibited about one thing but not at all inhibited about something else.

Things I'm not inhibited about:

• Revealing my naked body. I don't care how "imperfect" it may be, it is what it is. I attended two all-male schools where we revealed our bodies all the time.
• Physical contact with other people. I love hugging and kissing, though other men still find kissing and hugging men rather weird.
• Terms of endearment. Jenny and I use them all the time, even really silly ones.
• Complaining. I'll always complain if necessary. Why should I accept a product or service that's not as it should be?
• Saying no. Meaning the chancers on the doorstep promoting some service or other. No, I don't need a tree surgeon. No, I don't want to worship the Lord.
• Admitting my mistakes. I'm not one to hide my mistakes or make out they're someone else's fault. We all screw up now and then.

Things I'm inhibited about:

• Talking to people who seem much more intelligent. Will they find my remarks stupid or ignorant?
• Talking about sex. I regard sex as something private, something that only concerns sexual partners.
• Talking to complete strangers. What should I say to them, what should I talk about? I'm always at a loss for words.
• Talking to people who're well-read. People who make endless references to famous books I've never read and expect me to be familiar with them.

But I'm not inhibited about revealing my inhibitions.

Why so abusive?

Why are people so abusive nowadays? Why can't they just deal with an annoying situation calmly, without vilifying someone?

Two customers at our local Caffè Nero this morning were angry that they were having to wait a few minutes for service, mainly because a computer problem meant cards or phone payments couldn't be processed and it was cash only.

The angry customers didn't have any cash and cursed the staff for the inconvenience, although the problem wasn't due to the staff who were coping as best they could and probably feeling just as frustrated as the customers.

People take out their discontent on innocent shop staff, when nine times out of ten a problem has nothing to do with staff but is down to a computer failure or incompetent managers or poor training.

No wonder there's such a constant change of staff at Caffè Nero if that's the way they're treated by a significant number of customers. Why put up with a daily stream of abuse if you can find a job where you're appreciated rather than sworn at?

Jenny and I never ever abuse shop staff (or staff anywhere), even if they're making a real mess of something. We know the pressure they may be under and we're more likely to be friendly and patient and helpful than nasty and arrogant.

And what does that abuse achieve apart from venting your emotions? If the problem isn't caused by the staff, probably nothing except a horrible atmosphere.

No more high heels?

Supposedly high heels are losing their appeal. Young women are less likely to wear them, businesses are less likely to insist on them. Comfort is taking priority over pain and fashion.

Or so says a journalist who gave up wearing high heels because they damaged her achilles tendons and calf muscles. They took several years to recover.

Well, as you may recall I've always been bemused by the popularity of high heels. Everyone knows they do all sorts of damage to your body but women keep on wearing them because they're seen as sexy or glamorous or if it's the workplace they make you look "professional" and "businesslike".

Personally I don't find them the least bit sexy, just rather masochistic. What's sexy about something that's probably uncomfortable and painful?

As for their looking professional, I don't judge office workers by their footwear but by how well they do their job. And as I've said before, if high heels make you look professional, why don't men wear them?

Unfortunately a lot of men want their womenfolk to wear high heels because yes, they're seen as sexy. So women oblige them and put up with the discomfort.

I don't think Jenny has ever worn high heels and she would never contemplate wearing such things. She would never sacrifice comfort for some dubious idea of being sexy or eye-catching.

In 2017 Nicola Thorp started a petition against the compulsory wearing of high heels at work when she was sent home from her temp job after refusing to wear high heels. Her petition attracted over 100,000 signatures and was debated in parliament but was then quickly forgotten about.

But maybe seven years on attitudes are finally changing?

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I'm no longer getting comments via email so it may be that I miss some comments and don't respond to them. I have no idea how to restore the emails. Sorry about that.

A question of trust

Another heated debate about parenting and to what extent you should trust your child to do their own thing without fussing and fretting and watching them like a hawk.

There's been a lot of criticism of Kirstie Allsopp, the presenter of a TV property programme, for allowing her 15 year old son and a 16 year old friend to take a rail trip round Europe on their own.

Even the local council has got involved, with Social Services starting a file on her for supposedly neglectful parenting.

Kirstie Allsopp insists that she knows her own child and had no doubt he was mature enough to make such a trip and cope with any problems that arose. Which he did.

It seems to me that it's entirely up to the parent to decide what their child is capable or not capable of. What business is it of other people to judge them and tell them they made the wrong decision? What do they know about the child's capabilities?

The assumption is that parents are too laid back and let their children do anything they want without properly observing them and keeping them out of harm's way.

As you know, Jenny and I don't have any children, but I imagine that if we had done I for one as a rather anxious individual would probably have been over-protective and over-watchful, deterring my children from spreading their wings and finding their way in the outside world.

I'm sure I would have exaggerated all the dangers and conjured up all sorts of dire eventualities. I suspect I'd have been an alarmingly neurotic parent.

Pic: Kirstie Allsopp

The dating minefield

When I was young, dating was a fairly simple business. You dated a friend of a friend, or a workmate, or a neighbour, and either you got on or you didn't.

Now it's more complicated. There are online dating services that invite you to contact total strangers, people you've never met in your life and know absolutely nothing about.

You can only go by what information they put online, which may be heavily embellished or completely fabricated. They may have assumed an entirely fictitious identity, with a fake photo they've stolen from someone else. How do you judge whether what they're telling you is true or not?

At least when I was dating someone in the flesh, someone I probably knew quite well, I knew what I was getting. I knew they were the person they said they were, I knew what they looked like, I knew they weren't artificially enhanced.

They might have put on a bit of a false front or hidden a few bad habits, but they were basically what they appeared to be.

But that's not the only change. Anyone trying online dating also has other hazards to contend with - like scamming and stalking. Apparently they're now so rife on dating sites that customers are deserting them in droves.

Some 52 per cent of online daters said they had come across someone they thought was trying to scam them; 57 per cent of women said online dating is not too or not at all safe; and 85 per cent said someone continued to contact them after they said they weren't interested.

All in all, dating seems to have become a minefield. I'm glad all that's behind me.

Rising loneliness

I read that loneliness is on the rise, with seven in ten of 18 to 24 year olds saying they feel lonely and 29 per cent saying they feel a fundamental separateness from other people and the wider world.

That surprises me because I don't often feel lonely. I may feel bored or out-of-place or weird, but not lonely. I don't feel separate from other people because I know I have lots in common with them, even if we're not actually face to face or talking to each other.

Even when I lived on my own, before I met Jenny, I didn't feel lonely because I got out and about and didn't feel a need for other people's company as I had plenty of company at work.

Not that having company is necessarily the answer to loneliness. I can be in a crowd of people and still feel lonely because I don't feel they understand me or that they're on my wavelength or they share my interests.

The feeling of loneliness has many causes, in particular not being happy with your own self and wanting other people's reassurance or support or appreciation. I suppose it also includes the feeling of missing out, that other people are having a better time than you are. I guess every lonely person has their own definition of loneliness and what it feels like.

It doesn't help that the prevailing view of human beings is that we're social creatures and need other people around us to feel good. That ain't necessarily so.

Sort of nostalgia

I like to think I'm not nostalgic, which may be true in a general sense - I don't want to return to any supposedly preferable historical period - but it's not quite true in a more specific sense.

I may not want to relive the nineteen sixties or my childhood or my most rewarding job, but I do think fondly of times when certain things were done better than they are now (or so I believe).

Like routinely talking to a human being on the phone rather than an automated voice that doesn't understand my problem and suggests I consult some online trouble-shooting page that also doesn't understand my problem.

Like using older buses that have plenty of seats rather than new buses with far fewer seats, requiring you to stand up for your entire journey.

Like visiting tourist destinations when they were still deserted and a pleasure to explore, unlike now when over-tourism has made many places a ghastly human traffic-jam you have to fight your way through.

Like tourist locations when people were happy just to linger and enjoy their surroundings without taking 101 selfies and getting in everyone's way.

So yes, I'm a sort of dabbler in nostalgia, most of the time not looking back but sometimes regretting how things have changed.

I hasten to add that lots of things have changed for the better, which is why I'm not habitually nostalgic. Who could be nostalgic for typewriters or cassettes or black and white TVs? Not many, I imagine.

Am I obliged?

Are you obliged to your family simply because they're your family? Is it peculiar to step away from them, even if they're having a hard time and need support?

I would say there's no obligation at all. You never asked to be part of that family in the first place, so you owe them nothing, except maybe appreciation for having brought you up well (if indeed they did).

You may get on famously with your family, so you're happy to support them in any way necessary. But if you don't get on with them, if there's constant tension and conflict and dislike, why should you feel obliged to do anything for them?

I didn't get on with my father, and I didn't get on that well with my mother. So I never felt obliged to them. I barely know my sister and brother in law as they're quite uncommunicative, so again I don't feel obliged to them. And why should they feel obliged to me?

There's still a general expectation that children will look after their elderly parents, but if you don't feel any bond with your parents, or they actively undermine you, why should they expect anything from you?

Those people who strongly dislike their parents but still feel they should support them and look after them are remarkable, but I could never have managed that.

I don't expect anyone to feel obliged to look after me in my dotage (except the NHS of course). If they feel the urge to do so, that's fine.

Pub ding-dong

It's weird how easily a minor issue can turn into a major slanging-match - or worse. Quite often both sides dig their heels in and refuse to budge an inch.

Tempers flared when Jared Dunn, landlord of the Blue Bell pub in Conwy, Wales, asked 30 or so customers who were singing in Welsh to leave the pub because they don't allow singing and other customers found it disturbing. People were leaving the pub and in some cases not even finishing their meal.

That seems to me a reasonable response to the singing, but there was an angry reaction from some people who contended there was nothing wrong with singing in a pub and thought the landlord was wrong to put a stop to it. Some Welsh speakers thought it was an example of the language being marginalised.

Mr Dunn said "The pub is for everyone's enjoyment, and they didn't conform to a reasonable request. Many pubs have this rule in place, to enable their customers to have some peace and quiet while they're eating. It's the same reason we don't show sports or allow any kind of football chanting."

He has nothing against the Welsh language as his wife is Welsh and his children are learning the language. As it happens the family are moving to nearby Prestatyn in a few weeks, so he will soon leave the absurd row behind.

Jenny and I don't like having to listen to loud background music when we're eating or just chatting in a café or restaurant, so we have every sympathy with Mr Dunn.

Hard work and how

Jenny and I agree that as we get older we have a much greater appreciation of other people's achievements, of the hard work and determination that made those achievements possible.

When I was young I would be aware that a top novelist or lawyer or sportsperson or art restorer had done something special, but I wouldn't be aware of the full extent of what lay behind it and what it took to achieve it.

I never realised what the top novelist had to go through to produce the novel that I casually summed up as impressive or exciting. I imagined that they just sat down, scribbled away for a few weeks, and hey presto a brilliant novel.

I never thought about how hard it was to come up with an unusual and convincing plot, or vivid characters, or a dramatic ending. Or how hard it was to write fluent, smooth-flowing prose for hundreds of pages. Or how hard it was to keep at it day after day without being distracted. Or how hard it was to get your first novel published after dozens of rejections.

The sheer persistence and self-confidence required is easily underestimated. So many people say they're going to write a novel, but they never do.

The same applies to anyone who's done something spectacular or sensational. More and more I appreciate the hinterland of sheer hard work and application and single-mindedness that made that thing possible.

I was thinking all this I watched some of the astonishing Olympics coverage, and I was very conscious of the years and years of training and tenacity that underlie those stunning feats. Utterly mind-boggling.

Inside out

People say that if you've been married to someone for many years you know them inside out. You know how they'll react to any given situation, you know the thoughts that are running through their head, you know all their deepest secrets, you know what goes on under the public facade.

If you don't know the person that well, there's something a bit wrong with you. You're not really compatible, you're not in tune with each other.

Well, that degree of familiarity may be true of some people, but it certainly isn't true of Jenny and me. I can't be sure of her reactions, I don't always know what she's thinking, I doubt if I know her deepest secrets, and I don't always know what's behind the public persona.

That's not because we aren't compatible, it's simply because we're very different people and we're constantly surprised by each other.

So what's wrong with being surprised by each other? It makes life more interesting. It means we have complex characters that always leave more to be explored and understood.

And does anyone really know their partner inside out? They might think they do, but we all have parts of our personality that we keep to ourselves, however upfront and candid we might seem to be.

How often do you hear people say that something their partner has done or said seems quite out of character, a bolt from the blue? So they didn't know their partner so well after all.

I'd like to know Jenny inside out, but is it actually possible?

Moaning and groaning

As yet I haven't morphed into the typical grumpy old man. I still look on the bright side and take problems in my stride rather than moaning about them.

I haven't yet become "Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells", firing off angry letters to the media and haranguing everyone with my complaints about the bus service, litter louts, too much sex and violence on TV or the price of marmalade.

All that would do is turn me into a sour, bitter individual who takes no pleasure in life and just spoils other people's enjoyment.

I make a point of focusing on the positive things and working around the negatives rather than dwelling on them. There's little I can do about the price of marmalade or erratic buses so why bang on about such things?

I've worked with people who habitually moaned about everything in sight, and it's very tedious. Even if you suggest a more positive way of looking at life, they don't want to know. They're locked into a nothing's-good-enough mindset.

If I encounter something that makes no sense to me, my first reaction isn't complaint but curiosity. I want to know what underlies this oddity, what it's all about.

It's easy to get caught up in all the knee-jerk vilification that pours out of the media and not take a step back and look at things more thoughtfully.

Apart from anything else, incessant grumbling is exhausting. All that rage and condemnation takes it out of you. I'm all for an easy life.

Not sentimental

I'm not very sentimental, if that means I get highly emotional over things that have played a significant part in my life, things that have meant a lot to me.

Other people are much more sentimental, hanging on to things that have long since held any value except their emotional meaning.

My father was highly sentimental. He had scrapbooks of all his Italian holidays, crammed with every conceivable souvenir of the trip - postcards, train tickets, boarding passes, restaurant menus. Nothing was too trivial to be discarded.

But my attitude has always been that once something's past it's past and there's no point in developing big emotional attachments and reminiscences. I have no photos of my childhood, no scrapbooks, no shelves of souvenirs and mementos, no carefully-preserved old school uniform. I'm totally focused on the present and future rather than the past.

I suppose that makes me sound rather cold and detached, but that's the way I am. I prefer to be having new experiences rather than reliving old ones.

I do have photos of my brother in law, my sister and my niece, but that's mainly to make up for my not actually seeing them very often, since they live in southern England.

In any case all the significant events in my past - like my schooldays, my workplaces, my holidays, my various homes - are lodged vividly in my memory and easily retrievable. I don't need a scrapbook to remind me of my walks round the Venetian alleyways or the train ride through the Rocky Mountains. And if I did need a reminder, Google would soon fill in the gaps.

Jerry built

I can't imagine what it's like to move into what seems a perfect new home, only to find it's been jerry-built, it's full of serious defects, and the builder is trying to dodge any responsibility for putting them right.

Which is what happened to Dayle Dixon and Mark Lee in Ivybridge, Devon. If their house was in good order it would be worth about £350,000, but with all the faults it's worth no more than a token sum of £1. How distressing is that?

There's an ongoing scandal in the UK of new homes that haven't been properly built because they haven't been properly inspected by local planners and the builders can get away with shoddy workmanship.

This racket has been going on for many years without any serious attempt to put an end to it, which is why Jenny and I have deliberately steered clear of newly-built homes.

Our present home was built in 1949 so any major defects would have been discovered long ago. Buying a newly-built home is always risky because even if it looks fine on first viewing, major defects may only become apparent some time after moving in.

Did this couple ask a surveyor to check out the house? We have usually employed a surveyor to inspect whatever home we're thinking of buying. The second flat we took a chance on because it was a mansion block built in 1900 and looked rock solid from the outside. And so it turned out.

The builder must have known that some of their homes were badly-built and full of faults - maybe even potentially lethal ones like exposed electrical wiring. How can a builder leave a home in that state and just walk away?

Eccentric, moi?

When I was a boy, people were commonly seen as "eccentric" and such individuals stuck out a mile for their eccentricity - meaning their strange and unconventional conduct.

Nowadays the term has virtually lost all meaning, since eccentricity is commonplace. So many people - youngsters in particular - are now conspicuous by their strange clothes, strange behaviour, strange beliefs and strange aspirations that they just aren't remarkable any more.

It's routine for people to have elaborate tattoos, multiple piercings, flamboyant clothes and extreme political views. We think nothing of it, we see them as quite normal.

Oldies are more conventional and some will still stick out as eccentrics, like the moany old codger who hates the neighbours, and they're very noticeable oddballs. Oldies in general still go for a fairly orthodox appearance - no tattoos or piercings or tee shirts with controversial slogans.

It was unusual when I was young to see any kind of "eccentric". We might see the odd person talking to themself or cursing everyone in sight or collecting garden gnomes, but that was about it.

The only obvious eccentric I can think of in this immediate neighbourhood is the guy who walks down the street trailing a suitcase. Clearly he isn't heading for the airport because he appears with his suitcase every day. Which naturally sets us wondering what's in the suitcase. The proceeds of a bank robbery? His worldly possessions? The manuscript of a book?

Of course we can't possibly ask him, that would be most intrusive and impertinent. Maybe one day the suitcase will fall open and all will be revealed.

Give me fame

I always say that I wouldn't like to be famous, that I would hate the constant attention, I would hate being judged and found wanting, I would hate the lack of privacy - among other things.

So I was intrigued that actor Kevin Bacon tried going out in disguise - fake teeth, a fake nose and a pair of glasses - and rapidly discovered that he hated anonymity and much preferred being famous.

For a while he enjoyed the new freedom, but it didn't last long. "People were kind of pushing past me, not being nice. Nobody said, I love you. I had to wait in line to buy a fucking coffee or whatever. I was like, this sucks. I want to go back to being famous."

Presumably he loves all the attention and the resulting benefits. He's been famous for over 40 years so I guess suddenly being ordinary was quite a shock to the system.

I think the thing I would really hate about being famous is my shortcomings being so familiar to so many people. It's okay if my small circle of friends and relatives know my failings, but if potentially millions of people are aware of them, and constantly harping on them, that would be hard to cope with.

I would also hate all the fictitious tales being spun about me, all the derogatory and critical stories that were totally untrue but still went on circulating indefinitely. Reports that my marriage was in trouble or I'd had cosmetic surgery or I was a useless parent. Even if you deny these stories, they have a life of their own and usually just get repeated over and over.

Kevin Bacon is welcome to his fame. But I'm sure I would find it an awful burden.

Before smartphones

I was astonished to read that 91 per cent of 11 year olds have a smart phone, and 20 per cent of children own them by the age of four. A lot of parents try to prevent their children from owning a smart phone, because of all the obvious dangers, but that's hard when most of their school mates already have one.

It's hard to imagine what my schooldays would have been like if I had a smart phone. I didn't even have a landline never mind a smart phone. It meant that I very much lived in a boarding-house bubble, completely removed from the outside world. There was no TV or radio or newspapers so world events passed me by. We were discouraged from wandering around the adjacent town so there was little chance of making outside friends.

If I was at school now and I had a smart phone, above all that would connect me to the outside world. I could keep up with world events, check out websites that interested me, keep in touch with my family, get advice on personal problems. But at the same time I would have access to all sorts of undesirable websites promoting porn or anorexia or racism or dangerous drugs or simply plausible misinformation.

On balance I think that despite the deprivations I experienced I probably had a healthier childhood without a smart phone and without all the hazards it would have presented me with. I could enjoy simple pleasures like reading and walking without being glued to that beguiling little screen.

And there was something to be said for not being constantly in touch with my family and all their oddities.

City says no

Jenny and I are trying to rewild one of our small lawns, without much success. Instead of lots of pretty wild flowers, we're just getting the usual grass, dandelions, daisies and clover. Clearly we're doing something wrong.

But at least we can experiment with our lawns. Residents of Ontario aren't so lucky. In Canada and the USA (but not in the UK) local bylaws regulate private gardens and the authorities will jump on anything too unorthodox.

Wolf Ruck started rewilding his Mississauga garden with native plants three years ago, but didn't reckon on complaints from the neighbours and his lawn being forcibly mown - and being landed with the city's legal bills. Apparently there's a bylaw that forbids nuisance weeds and tall grasses, and his garden was deemed to have broken the bylaw.

"My property is not abandoned. It's not a blight on the community. It simply seems to offend some neighbours who don't like the look of it" he says. He is appealing against the city's judgment.

Here in the UK we can do more or less what we like with our gardens. We can allow lawns and hedges to grow to crazy lengths, we can fill the garden with rubbish, we can have a bright orange garden shed, and nobody will object, unless some rampant plant is invading our neighbour's property.

If you're on a street with a bus route and you have a tree that's overhanging the street and hitting the buses, you'll be asked to lop off the offending branches. But that's about it.

Luckily we have a tall fence around our garden, so most of the neighbours have no idea what we're up to anyway. We could have a garden full of wild animals and nobody would know.

Keep pushing back against this idiocy, Mr Ruck.

Pic: Not Mr Ruck's garden. I couldn't find a pinchable photo of him or his garden. But there's a photo of him on the link.

Too many friends

There are plenty of people who feel lonely and short of close friends. But spare a thought for those people who're so addicted to collecting friends that they have too many of them and would like to lose a few.

Anya Meyerowitz thought that having lots of friends would make her feel better about herself. She seized every opportunity to make new friends but all that happened was that her friendships became more and more superficial and unsatisfying.

"Where I got to instead was a place where I found many of these hurriedly acquired friendships to be draining, tiresome and anxiety-inducing. The more I weaved my way into other people's lives, the less I felt a sense of community. I was juggling a full social calendar that left me feeling empty."

Not a problem I have to deal with. My opportunities for making new friends are strictly limited as I've been retired for 6 years and my only regular socialising is with my monthly book group and a few residual friends.

It seems a bit naive to think that the more friends you have, the happier you'll be. Obviously you'll have less time to spend with each one and inevitably the friendships are likely to get shallower. More is less, you might say.

It's interesting that she managed to keep so many friends for so long. I think for most of us friends come and go quite quickly. You discover something off-putting about them, they move somewhere many miles away, they turn out to be hopelessly needy, or you simply don't have the time to keep in touch.

Anya doesn't tell us what she did after her sudden disillusion. Did she have the nerve to discard half her friends? I'd love to know.