Me time

What a golden opportunity it is when your partner goes away for the day or the weekend or even the week (and takes the children if you have any). Suddenly you have a nice big chunk of me time and you can do absolutely anything you want, free of the usual chores and obligations. Unmitigated pleasure and self-indulgence awaits.

Except of course that it seldom works out that way. Instead of all the unmitigated pleasure - long country walks, starting the new box set, trying those exciting new recipes, tackling that online course on everyday life in the Middle Ages - you find yourself spending the time quite differently. Hours have unaccountably sped by as you:

• Plucked your nasal hairs
• Looked again for the missing screwdriver
• Placed online orders for stuff you don't need
• Watched yet another endearing cat video
• Cleaned behind the taps
• Pondered why letter boxes are red
• Adjusted all the crooked pictures
• Purged all the socks with holes in

Then when your partner returns, along with all the old distractions and expectations, you kick yourself for not having used your precious me time more intelligently. And you dream of the next chunk of me time when you really really will make good use of it and not arse around like a ten year old.

To rub it in, your best friend gleefully recounts all the brilliant things she did during her own recent me time while her girlfriend was at a conference in Budapest. It seems she barely had time to sleep.

After that it's back to business as usual, and you find the missing screwdriver down the side of the fridge. And all the pictures are crooked again. And there's a nasal hair you somehow overlooked.

Life's too short

I wrote once about all the things that aren’t worth wasting time on, things that don’t inspire or enliven me but just get me down. They still seem very true, so I thought I’d repeat them. Yes, life’s too short to:

Pretend I'm someone I'm not. It's so easy to put on an act in response to what others expect of me, and hide my real self. But all it does is make me feel false and cowardly. It also leaves people with a phoney idea of who I am.

Exhaust myself in a gym. Natural forms of exercise like hill-walking are more fun and more scenic. Struggling with machines in a sweaty gym is totally artificial and not at all essential for my health.

Listen to moaners. The hours I've wasted listening to people moaning away about their workplace, their neighbours and their relatives. I prefer to spend my time with people who enjoy life rather than moan about it.

Think about the Royal Family. I couldn't care less about the Royals. They're just a bunch of parasites sponging off the rest of us and giving little in return. It's about time they did some real jobs. How about plumbing?

Idealise politicians. I no longer kid myself that politicians who promise a bright new future mean what they say. I've seen too many false dawns and blighted communities to be convinced any more.

Bear grudges. Better to let bygones be bygones rather than brood over old grievances that will never be put right. Yes, we all get treated badly from time to time, but simmering over it for years only makes us sour.

Dwell on things I can't control. Likewise, there's no point in harping on about things I have little influence over. Like drink-driving or homophobia or religious fanatics. I concentrate on things I can actually do something about.

Keep the house spotless. I'm not one of those houseproud obsessives who clean and sweep non-stop. There's always going to be dust and grease marks somewhere. As long as the place is presentable, that's enough for me.

Shop till I drop. I can't stand shopping, I do it only when I absolutely have to. Spending an entire day in a shopping centre, buying things I don't need and being assaulted by endless Musak, is my idea of hell.

Worry about my failings. Like everyone, I make mistakes and I upset people. There's no point in beating myself up over it or wishing I was more perfect. I do what I can to put things right, and then I move on.

Smoke alarm

I haven't much sympathy with workplace smokers, but the new tendency to make them clock out and clock in whenever they take a fag break does seem a bit over the top.

Apparently a number of local authorities are now asking smokers either to clock out while they smoke or work overtime to compensate.

Not surprisingly smokers are objecting to being singled out for penalties. What about non-smokers who waste their time on the internet or Facebook? Or make themselves a cup of coffee? Or spend ten minutes gossiping with a workmate? Or spin out that out-of-office trip to do a bit of shopping? Shouldn't they be penalised as well?

The truth is we all sneak little breaks from work to give ourselves a boost or fend off a heavy workload for a while. Either we should all be sanctioned or nobody should. It's hardly fair to jump on smokers and nobody else. I'm with the smokers here.

Those non-smokers who claim to feel resentful about 'privileged' smokers should look more honestly at their own personal indulgences and the little work-avoidance tricks they themselves get up to. If they aren't careful, they could find themselves hoist by their own petard.

We all have our dodges, especially if we've had decades of work-experience to suss them all out and refine them into barely-noticeable spells of truancy. One of the vital skills to pick up on your first job is the art of ingenious skiving. But still, that's another subject altogether.