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.