Tricks of the trade

I was thinking about the TV programmes where people have houses full of junk and clutter, stuff they've probably bought on a whim only to be shoved away in a corner somewhere and forgotten. Then I was musing about all the little tricks that encourage us to spend more/consume more than we actually need.

• Like souvenirs. It's the done thing to come back from a holiday with souvenirs of the places you've visited. It doesn't matter how tacky they are, as long as they prove you've been to X, Y and Z. Personally I don't go in for that, I buy something because it's pretty or amusing or informative, but not as a souvenir.
• Like fashion. Just about everything is now subject to the whims of fashion. Have I got the latest smart phone or the latest trainers or the latest lavishly praised bestseller? The answer is no, I don't have the latest anything, only what I take a fancy to. With my stout shoes and dumb phone and umbrella I'm gloriously unfashionable.
• Like elaborate weddings. It's not enough to pop round to the local registry office, you should be dancing and carousing in some exotic location and getting expensive presents from all the guests. Well, too bad, Jenny and I were happy with the local registry office.
• Like the idea that your kitchen/living room/bathroom is looking a bit "tired" and needs updating. Why not blow a few thousand on "refreshing" it and impressing the neighbours?
• Like the idea of pampering, of treating yourself. Feeling a bit low? Life's getting you down? Then why not give yourself a little treat? How about a box of chocolates, or a manipedi, or a hairdo, or a box set?

Hopefully I'm wise to all these tricks, but marketing grows ever more sophisticated....

Not for me

Well, as you know, I'm not interested in fashion. Of any kind. I just go my own way and I really don't care what's trending. Except ice cream and chocolate of course. Fashionable things (or people) I have zero interest in:

Ripped jeans - rain gets in the holes
Beards - they just make me laugh
Fitbits - no need, I get enough exercise
Nigel Farage - a power-hungry rabble-rouser
Quinoa - looks weird and tastes of nothing
Twitter - infested with bullying and abuse
Poetry - I prefer a good novel
Energy drinks - I have plenty of energy already
Cruises - too many people, too much pollution
Botox - I don't mind the wrinkles
Porn - degrades both women and men
Marathons - too strenuous and competitive
Award ceremonies - too pompous and contentious
The Royal Family - an out-of-date waste of money
Harry Potter - wizards leave me cold
Fun drugs* - I'm having plenty of fun without them
Electric toothbrushes - no better than manual
Work-outs - I'm fit enough for my age
Video games - do nothing for me
Frappuccinos - I prefer my coffees hot

Mind you, if I was stranded on a desert island with nothing to read except the collected adventures of Harry Potter, I guess I would get stuck in. I could enjoy Hermione Granger's razor-sharp brain as I wait to be rescued.

*aka recreational drugs

Bring it on

It seems people either love or hate Valentine's Day. Either you see it as a lot of commercial and sentimental hype or you seize the chance to be totally romantic and slushy and cherish your loved one.

Well, I'm firmly in the romantic and slushy camp. I enjoy being with Jenny and sharing our favourite everyday pleasures like chocolate, wine and books. It would be rather sad if one of us scoffed at the whole idea of Valentine's Day and wanted nothing to do with it.

Oddly enough, I can't recall ever getting a Valentine's card from anyone. Clearly I never prompted the sort of gooey-eyed veneration that would send a suitably gushing Valentine in my direction.

I did get a rather lovely rose once from a male admirer, but it didn't lead to anything romantic. I had to disappoint him as I'm not that way inclined. A shame, as he was rather gorgeous.

Other countries have their special Valentine's Day traditions, some of them not so popular. Japanese women are pushing back against giri choco, the tradition that they give chocolates to male colleagues on Valentine's Day. They object to this "forced giving" and abuse of power.

Apparently the Welsh don't bother with Valentine's Day but celebrate St Dwynwen, the Welsh patron saint of lovers, on January 25th. They give each other carved wooden spoons as a token of fondness.

I don't see what's so repugnant about Valentine's Day. Better a mass outbreak of affection than the sullen frostiness most people choose as their habitual public persona. You never know, someone might even kiss me (other than Jenny, that is).

Bring on the romantic slushiness. And bring on the chocolate.
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The High Court judge has just ruled against the flat-owners who took the Tate Modern to court on the grounds that the gallery's viewing platform was an invasion of their privacy. Mr Justice Mann said there was no case to answer either on privacy or nuisance grounds. It is unclear why he made this decision (which makes no sense to me at all).

Gimmee chocolate

It's not all doom and gloom and businesses going to the wall. Like sex toys, luxury chocolates are enjoying a sales boom as people look for little treats and put that long-haul holiday on ice.

London's now said to be the chocolate capital of the world, full of famous names like Rococo, Prestat and William Curley. Everyone's snapping up their truffles, pralines and fondants as if there's no tomorrow.

There's even a wine-type vocabulary developing to enhance your taste experience. As William Curley puts it "Good chocolate always has length. If there's an immediate burst and then it dies on you, it isn't made with the best beans."

Always has length? Well, I must say I prefer six inches of chocolate to one inch. A richer sensation in every way. Size definitely matters, I say.

My usual comment of "Good stuff, that" is clearly hopelessly vulgar and proletarian. I should of course be remarking on the superior width and depth and overall dimensions of truffle flavour. While casually running my tape measure over it, naturally.

Not that I eat chocolate for pure hedonistic ecstasy, needless to say. I eat it solely for the health benefits of lower blood pressure, mood enhancement, reduced cholesterol and increased longevity. A large bar of Toblerone is obviously reducing the burden on the hard-pressed NHS.

And how lucky that we humans can enjoy a taste paradise animals can't. Apparently chocolate is toxic to animals because they find it hard to digest the substance theobromine. They could suffer seizures or even death. Cats and dogs included. So keep that king-size Mars Bar well away from Fido.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to Thorntons for some essential medical supplies. Gift-wrapped of course.
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And now the journos are getting all excited about Michelle Obama wearing Dusty Springfield-style false eyelashes. How much more of this tripe?

Chocs away

I was gripped by the story of the master chocolate-maker who saw red at the sight of a competitor's chocolates and impulsively crushed them all to pieces.

Barry Colenso, master chocolatier for Thornton's, left a "trail of destruction" at a display counter at Hotel Chocolat in Nottingham, after he laid into a pile of tantalising truffles and squashed them all with his thumb.

He apparently failed to see the CCTV that revealed his every move to the astonished shop staff.

Mr Colenso was forced to resign in disgrace from his prestigious job. Thornton's were too embarrassed to make any further comment.

But Peter Thornton, ex company chairman, said Mr Colenso "must have been under a tremendous amount of pressure to do something like this."

It's said that top chocolatiers are under the same stress as famous chefs. They have to keep coming up with winning recipes and if they don't, their reputation is on the line. If they can't produce the latest melt-in-the-mouth sensation, they're in trouble.

Under the circumstances, it's understandable that he saw a pile of someone else's lipsmacking truffles and just had to obliterate them. If he hadn't been on candid camera, he would have got away with it.

But what now? A period in rehab followed by the launch of his very own Colenso Truffle? An unexplained inferno at the Hotel Chocolat factory? Watch this space.

(Note to Peter Colenso's lawyer: the last paragraph is pure fantasy....)