Fleeting glimpses

• I won't leave any great achievements behind me when I die. I shall simply vanish into the ether. I have no problem with that.
• I'm used to doing things on my own. If other people are hovering, I get flustered (if they're hoovering, I get even more flustered).
• Most cats find me frightening. They rush off at top speed when they see me. But some cats are extra friendly and want lots of stroking.
• I know I shouldn't judge by appearances but I do. I like to think I can suss someone out. Usually my assumptions are quite wrong.
• Sometimes I have no patience whatever and get instantly exasperated. At other times I have all the patience in the world. There's no logic to it.
• I'm not easily duped or scammed. I have a pretty acute shit-detector that alerts me fast. In fact I'm a bit too sceptical for my own good.
• How handy it would be if toenails and fingernails stopped growing once they reached their full size. Why do they need to keep growing??
• Flying doesn't scare me. Planes are incredibly well maintained and very safe. After all, the pilots and crew want to stay alive.
• I may be six foot, but I don't think of myself as tall unless I see myself in the mirror. I tend to think I'm a similar height to other people.
• I'm compulsively polite. I hate having arguments with people, so I always try to smooth things over with a few bland comments.
• It's strange that I've never seen myself walking down the street.
• I wouldn't be seen dead with a pair of Calvin Klein underpants. Or a pair of budgie-smugglers. Or a pair of budgies. Or even a single budgie. Even if it was very lonely and desperate for company.

A step back

People are fond of saying that in a crisis you should "follow your instincts" or "do what feels right". I've long been a bit wary of that advice, as instincts can be as disastrous as they can be spot-on.

My habit has always been to reflect on what I'm about to say or do before I leap into it. Which makes me a slightly reticent and cautious person, but I'd rather that than make some colossal blunder simply because I didn't think first.

You only have to look at the torrents of abuse and spite unleashed on the internet to see that "following your instincts" can sometimes be pretty destructive, especially if your instincts are tangled up with heated emotions and it's actually the emotions that are holding sway.

I think instincts can be helpful in some situations but calamitous in others. Parents getting conflicting advice on how to bring up their children usually fall back on instinct, and since that instinct is guided by love and affection for their child, the result is usually positive.

But relying on instinct in fraught public arguments, where delicate sensitivities are at stake and it's all too easy to fan the flames and make everything worse, is a mug's game. So much tragedy and distress could be averted if those involved first took a step back and thought about the effects of their actions.

Following your instincts is not much help if it means bingeing on junk food or having 19 children or squeezing into your budgie smugglers. A pause for reflection might have led to a happier outcome.

Instead of "follow your instincts", how about "follow your thoughts" or "chew it over"? Or how about another old phrase "Look before you leap"?

Unless you're a bemused parent, that is.

How to be mature

The idea of maturity, as in being a mature adult, is a highly dubious one, especially when it implies giving things up or toning things down.

If behaving in a certain way makes you feel good or adds to your enjoyment of life, why should it have to be toned down? So other people feel more "comfortable"? So you don't look "ridiculous"? Phooey. Don't listen to such mean-minded nonsense.

And what are we supposed to rein in or do away with anyway?

Mature adults, it seems, should have "normal" hobbies i.e. ones that other people can understand, like gardening or knitting. No eccentric interests like collecting pepper grinders or making the Taj Mahal out of matchsticks.

You should never be too enthusiastic or gushing about anything, as it's "childish". Your appreciation should always be restrained and thoughtful, suggesting some subtle dimension of pleasure (whatever that might be).

You shouldn't wear clothes that are too flamboyant or eye-catching. No bright colours, no miniskirts, no budgie-smugglers, nothing too tight or too scanty. You should blend in with your surroundings and dress "modestly".

You should always be polite and inoffensive. Keep a lid on those controversial opinions about Bible-bashers or baby-boomers or drunken louts. Maintain a neutral atmosphere, however artificial and strained.

But why should we always suppress our natural tastes and responses in the name of being "mature"? Which means what exactly? Responsible? Sensible? Well-behaved? We can be all those things without turning ourselves into strait-laced old farts.

Maturity? Bah, humbug.