The blockade

When he heard Donald Trump had become US President, Erik Hagerman was so shocked and dismayed he decided he'd had enough of the news and from then on was going to ignore it. He would live his life news-free and be a lot happier for it.

Well, so far he seems to have kept his promise and not one news item has spoilt his day. He's fully occupied breeding pigs and making sculptures. Or so he says. It's hard to believe he's indifferent to the President's latest crazy decision or the latest mass shooting, but apparently it all passes him by.

I couldn't cut myself off from the world to that extent. I know so much of the news nowadays is depressing and horrifying, I know it's probably not good for my blood pressure or my emotional well-being, but I couldn't just shut it all out.

Apart from feeling I should be fully informed about what goes on in the world and how people live their lives - including those lives that are violent, nasty and depraved - there are also news items that are encouraging and instructive and I would be missing out on them.

In any case such a boycott (what he calls the blockade) would be almost impossible to maintain without an iron will and all sorts of rigid restrictions. I doubt if I would keep it up for more than a week or two without cracking. I would see a group of people having a heated debate about something and I would be itching to know what they were discussing.

And I have to admit I'm also hooked on those quirky little stories that provide a bit of light relief. Like the controversy among National Trust members as to what you should spread on your scones first - the jam or the cream. I love how people can get so frenzied over such utter trivia.

Pic: Erik Hagerman

Hypochondria

I told my doctor I was sure I had all the symptoms of hypo-chondria but she said no, I was just imagining it. Honestly, these doctors, they just want to get you out of the surgery.

I've met people with raging hypochondria who know for a fact they're got terminal cancer but the doctors keep misdiagnosing it. I would point out they looked perfectly healthy, only to hear a catalogue of tell-tale symptoms like intermittent light-headedness. Only intermittent? You should be so lucky, says I.

Of course real hypochondriacs don't just imagine they're ill, like you and me reading the worst into a stubborn headache. They pester the doctors and consultants for every scan, blood test and investigation known to medicine, always hoping for something lethal.

Personally, I stay well away from doctors and hospitals if at all possible. You could end up sicker than when you started. Doctors? It's their business to find illnesses so give them half a chance and they'll find one. Your blood pressure's a tad high, Nick, you'd better take some of these little pink pills. Quick, run for it!

As for hospitals, it's a toss-up whether you come out cured of that chronic affliction or adding another one. Blood clots, anyone? Superbugs, fresh today. Oops, just whipped out the wrong kidney. Lucky you've got two, eh? Nowadays the nurses don't just check your pulse, they check your will and your life insurance. Just in case.

But hypochondria's on a roll. If you can't find an actual illness to lay claim to, there's a potential illness just round the corner. Every day the media reports something unexpectedly dangerous, something that'll make us all horribly ill in a few years' time. Mobile phones, lipstick, burning candles - they're all oozing health hazards.

I just know I'm almost ill. I've got all the symptoms. Tell me the truth, doc, I can take it.