Alive and kicking

There's a British TV drama right now called "Marriage", which depicts marriage as being boring, frustrating and claustro-phobic. It may seem like a blissful union to start with, is the message, but as time goes by it'll become something very tedious and joyless.

Most of the critics agreed. Marriage sooner or later turns rotten, this is a brilliant portrayal of what it becomes, telling it like it is etc.

Well, Jenny and I couldn't recognise this depressing view of marriage. Is the typical long-term marriage really so dismal and vacuous? Are couples really so non-communicative, so ground-down, so forlorn?

Our marriage may go back 27 years but as far as we're concerned it's still very much a "blissful union" and we don't at all feel it's degenerated into something tedious and joyless. We get on very well, we enjoy doing things together, we have wonderful conversations about everything under the sun, we resolve our differences easily, and there's lots of laughter and excitement.

We don't feel there's anything lacking in our relationship. We don't think that maybe we'd be better off with someone else. We don't think we've taken some wrong turning and landed up somewhere we don't want to be. We're very happy just where we are.

If the average marriage really is as dismal as this TV drama makes out, I feel sorry for all those couples trapped in such an unsatisfying situation. Did they just marry the wrong person in the first place, have they simply lost interest in each other, or do they lack the skills needed to reinvigorate a tired relationship?

All I can say is, Jenny and I are very lucky our marriage hasn't become so "hollowed out" and is still alive and kicking.

Never felt the need

It's funny but I've never for a moment regretted not having children. I'm happily sailing on without them and have never felt there's some kind of void in my life that needed to be filled with scampering offspring.

I've never had a yen for descendants who can carry on the family name, or for someone to love and admire their daddy, or for the delight of childish innocence or misunderstandings or precocity.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not in any way criticising those who have had children and (in most cases) got huge pleasure from them. It's an individual choice, after all. Some are raring to have kids from an early age, and know they'll love it, while others wonder what all the fuss is about and have never felt the need.

All those daft arguments about selfishness don't help, because of course they work both ways. Are you selfish to not want children and not help to replace the older generation? Or are you selfish to have children and expect others to contribute to the public services they'll need? You can go round and round in circles and just get everyone's backs up.

But I must say, from what I see of parents and children every day (and I see a lot of them because there are two schools close by), there's nothing that makes me feel I missed out, that I'm lacking a vital experience.

When I see parents angrily reprimanding their wayward children, when I see children running round restaurants screaming their heads off, when I hear about children with serious mental and emotional problems, when I hear about children in thrall to drugs, when I hear about relentless bullying, I just think that bringing up kids must be equal parts joy and anguish.

So - no charming son who loves and admires his daddy. But suppose he turned out to actively loathe his daddy. What then?

Happy bunny

I know I've been rather negative and angsty of late (one person even thought I sounded
"frantic") but I'd like to reassure anyone worried about my emotional or mental health, or convinced I was about to top myself, that I'm just fine, thanks very much, and there's absolutely no cause for concern.

In fact something very wonderful has happened to me recently (I'm sorry I can't give you any details because it's strictly private and confidential - but it has to do with an unexpected and very fruitful friendship) and actually at this moment I couldn't be happier.

Of course that cryptic little titbit will have your collective imaginations shooting off in a hundred directions, but I'm not saying any more. I'm not having an affair, I haven't met Penelope Cruz, I haven't run into a millionaire, I haven't found the perfect manicurist. But it's something just as joyful and special. In fact more so.

It's funny how every time I think my life is more or less complete, that I've done all the exciting and inspiring things I'll ever do, and that from here on in I'm just trundling steadily towards the old folk's home, suddenly something extraordinary happens that reinvents my life and makes me rethink everything from first principles.

And it happens when I'm not even looking for it. I'm just pottering about, minding my own business, doing the domestic chores, paying the window cleaner, wondering if that bar of chocolate has turned to fat, and whap, something explodes into my life like a meteor and sends everything flying. And what a lovely experience it is.