So much for reason

When I was young I believed people were basically rational and the world was run on a rational basis.

As I got older I realised this wasn't so. A lot of the time reason didn't come into it at all and all sorts of irrational considerations came into play.

I optimistically thought poverty could be ended easily if governments took more money from the wealthy and gave it to the poor.

Eventually it dawned on me that it wasn't so simple. Politicians were reluctant to tax the wealthy (especially if they were wealthy themselves). Some thought the poor should find their own way out of poverty and shouldn't need government help. Others thought the supposed poor weren't really poor at all and had hidden sources of income. And so on.

Likewise building more homes or increasing people's salaries or dealing with greedy landlords. What seems like the obvious solution is stymied by irrational objections that prevent any real progress.

Nowadays I tend to be a bit cynical about any grand plans announced by politicians. Instantly I envisage a flood of half-baked protests likely to stall those grand plans for years on end.

And meanwhile, despite endless pledges to abolish poverty for good, it gets worse. And worse.

A search to remember

Jenny and I have had a few occasions when we couldn't quite remember where we had parked the car, but we've always found it after a few minutes of wandering around looking for it. The initial panic quickly gives way to relief.

But imagine what it's like for someone who has absolutely no idea where he/she parked the car and spends the next three weeks (yes, three weeks) searching for it, getting more and more frustrated and bewildered.

Kieran (last name not known) had been to a stag party in Cork and couldn't find his wine-coloured Skoda Superb. He hadn't noted the road it was parked in so he had little to go on.

All he knew was that he had parked on an estate. So he methodically visited 59 different estates in the Cork suburbs - but to no avail.

Then he offered a €200 (£171) reward to anyone who could locate his car. And finally, he was in luck. A woman had seen the car on her estate in Ballyphehane.

That's certainly a stag party he won't forget in a hurry. "But sure I met the best people and had great craic" he said. And even greater craic after the party!

If Jenny and I park in some unfamiliar location, we always note the road it's in, and maybe some landmark the locals could identify and direct us to.

It was a routine problem in London, where parking spaces are scarce and often we had to park well away from the venue we were attending. Luckily we always found our car afterwards. So not much craic to be found there.

Pic: not Kieran!

Skirts only

You would think that by the year 2025 schoolgirls would be allowed to wear trousers instead of skirts, but there are still quite a few schools that insist on skirts, including the three schools near our house.

Now two Northern Irish students are pushing for a change in uniform rules.

Astrid Knox and Rhea Flood from Enniskillen have launched a campaign calling for girls to be allowed to wear trousers at school.

"You can learn the same in trousers as in skirts" said Rhea.

I don't understand why schools still insist on girls wearing skirts, and not giving them the choice of skirts or trousers. Trousers are obviously more sensible and easier to move around in.

Skirts are sometimes justified on the basis that they're "traditional". Well, bikinis and high heels are traditional, but we don't expect to see them on schoolgirls.

There was no uniform to speak of at my two schools. A shirt, jacket and trousers were all I needed, though my prep school required the official school blazer with its blue and white stripes. It still does (and I noticed in passing that the girls are wearing skirts).

If schools insist on having a uniform (and there are arguments for and against) they might at least require one that's comfortable and practical.

NB: The photo is from an advert, so I assume she was happy for her photo to be circulated.

A spot of ginger

There is still a lot of prejudice against people with ginger hair. There doesn't seem to be any particular reason, simply blind prejudice.

Mainly it just involves teasing and poking fun, but sometimes it can get violent. Some years ago a 14-year-old boy in Lincoln had his right arm broken and his head stamped on by three men who attacked him "just because he had red hair". The three men were later jailed for a combined total of ten years and one month for the attack.

What is it about someone's hair colour that causes such negative reactions? It's not as if ginger-haired people turn out to be murderers or rapists. They just happen to have ginger hair.

There are odd beliefs about red heads. That they have fiery tempers and sharp tongues. That they're highly sexed. That they're Jewish.

In the Middle Ages red heads were thought to be vampires and witches, and it was believed that burning them and scattering the ashes would produce a good harvest.

But there have also been periods when ginger hair was prized. Queen Elizabeth the First was a red head and the hair colour became very fashionable during her reign. How come the fashion didn't last?

Personally I love ginger hair. It makes such a vivid impression compared with blonde and dark hair. Which makes me wonder if the prejudice is based on jealousy. Maybe the bullies would secretly like to have such dramatic hair.

(Thanks to Wikipedia)

So much clutter

Apparently despite all those TV programmes and media articles about decluttering, if anything the problem's getting worse.

Studies show that a third of the possessions in a typical UK home aren't used. Not only that but many people have forgotten they owned the items in the first place.

Garages are used more and more not for housing cars but storing all those items we can't fit into the house.

Jenny and I are pretty ruthless about getting rid of unwanted items, but even so there are still a few surplus items that could swiftly be disposed of. But it's easy to find bogus reasons for hanging onto things.

When I met Jenny I was living in a tiny bedsit, and I simply couldn't buy very much because there was absolutely no storage space. As we moved up the property ladder to bigger flats and then bigger houses, of course we acquired lots of bits and pieces to fill the extra room. So if we got rid of too much there would just be a lot of strange empty spaces.

Our biggest possession is books. We must have at least a thousand but we chuck our very few because we fully intend to re-read most of them. In reality most of them don't get re-read, they just sit there gathering dust or sometimes they're so old they simply fall to pieces.

Some of you will recall that my mother was a chronic hoarder. Luckily I haven't inherited that particular trait.

Hard to say

Social anxiety is a bit of a bugger, isn't it?

There I am at another routine social event, confronted by some total stranger, wondering what the hell to say to her or him. And my mind goes completely blank.

I search my mind for suitable topics. The strange turn in the weather? The political crisis? The price of olive oil? Electric cars?

For some reason no subject seems suitable.

They'll think I'm weird if I talk about something obscure.

But they'll also think I'm weird if I say nothing at all.

I'd love to be one of those natural chatterboxes who can not only effortlessly start a conversation but keep it going for a good half hour.

How do they do it?

My tongue-tied stance comes from my family. Almost every one of them is and was fiercely taciturn. Speaking is only permitted if there's something very important or urgent to say. Otherwise lips are sealed.

So I'm just very out of practice at this chattering lark.

I need one of those ear-phones TV presenters wear, so someone can feed me suitable comments and questions.

Or maybe I just need a badge that says "Ask me an awkward question".

How on earth....

One thing that's mystified me for many many years is how someone is able to kill another person - or even thousands of people - without any regret or remorse or guilt or shame or any of the normal emotions that would prevent most of us from doing something so appalling.

They might even brag about what they're doing as if it's something to be proud of - like Nicholas Prosper, who wanted to commit the biggest school massacre ever (and luckily was stopped in his tracks).

They just don't see their victims as human beings but as worthless objects to be "dealt with" in the name of some sort of personal grudge or grievance or festering hostility. Something has obviously gone horribly wrong in their upbringing.

I couldn't possibly injure another person, let alone kill them. I couldn't possibly do something with such horrendous consequences both for me and for the other person - no to mention for their family and friends. How could I possibly justify my action? Likewise I couldn't bring myself to commit suicide.

As for those individuals who're happy to start wars and kill thousands or even millions of people - I can't imagine how they manage to sleep at night, how they're able to continue with their duties as if nothing unusual is happening.

It just stupefies me. The mental state of someone who can do such things is so far removed from my own mental state that the gap is unbridgeable. I can't even begin to understand what's going through their mind. Can anyone?

One thing it makes very clear - you can never know what's going on in someone else's head. Maybe something wonderful. Or maybe something utterly hideous.

Not a patriot

It's trendy these days to back patriotism and nationalism. Meaning being proud of your country, overlooking its faults and shortcomings, and regarding other countries as second-rate.

Well, I'm not joining the trend. I'm not at all proud of my country, I'm well aware of all its faults and shortcomings, and I think there are plenty of countries that are doing better than ours.

What's to be proud of? A failing economy? Collapsing public services? Widespread misogyny and trolling? Rampant racism? It's not a country to be proud of but one to be embarrassed by.

I was last proud of my country probably in the 1970s, when there was a definite sense of a society that looked after its most vulnerable citizens and wanted everyone to have a satisfying life. I grew up at a time when there were no tuition fees, unemployment benefit was generous, and salaries and working conditions were much better than they are now.

It's just embarrassing when the government flaunts union jacks at its news conferences. Or when people wear union jack tee shirts. Or when football fans wave the St George's flag, the flag of England. Are they really proud of their country? It's hard to believe.

But it's awkward when I happen to live in a country I'm not in any way proud of. I tend to sidestep any conversation that turns to patriotism unless I know the person shares my own views. It could turn nasty.

A lack of empathy?

Someone once said to me that I was totally lacking in empathy, in fact that I was the least empathetic person she had ever known.

Which surprised me (apart from the extraordinary rudeness), because I've always seen myself as an empathetic person. And because nobody else has ever accused me of the same thing.

Maybe I'm fooling myself. Maybe I am indeed short of empathy but I fondly imagine the opposite.

Empathy is harder if someone is going through some experience I've never had, like pregnancy or a terminal illness, but that doesn't mean I lack empathy.

In some ways I think I have too much empathy (if such a thing is possible). I really feel for all those people around the world who're living in desperate circumstances - victims of poverty, disease, genocide, civil war, and so many other horrific situations. There's no way I can just shut it all out and focus on my comfortable everyday life.

I empathise easily with those who're victims in some way, who've been badly treated and exploited by others. How could anyone not empathise with them?

It may be that I empathise quite easily but I find it hard to express that empathy, so people think I'm a bit cold. I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing so I say nothing.

But people do have some very odd opinions about me.

Laptop tensions

People have mixed feelings about those individuals who use coffee shops as their office and tap away at their laptop for hours, oblivious to those customers who can't find a seat because they're occupied by the laptop brigade.

Journalist Emily Watkins is a staunch defender of WFCS (Working From Coffee Shops) though she thinks a lot of laptoppers abuse the coffee shops' indulgence by misbehaving in various ways.

She says they often linger for far too long (sometimes several hours), they spend the least amount possible, they talk on their phones, they use Zoom, and they stay put even when the coffee shop is full to bursting.

Whenever we go to our local Caffè Nero, there are always two or three people busy on their laptops and acting as though they're perfectly entitled to be there. And yes, it can be hard to find a vacant seat.

Some coffee shops, like Starbucks, are clamping down on the laptop workers and either banning them altogether, or imposing a strict time limit for being there, and charging them if they want to stay longer.

Most coffee shops lose out financially to laptop workers, as they tend to spend the bare minimum and usually a lot less than other customers.

Personally I think they should be banned from coffee shops altogether as they're not bona fide customers and wouldn't be tolerated in other shops. That may seem draconian but it's very simple - coffee shops aren't offices.

Do not touch

Can you believe it? People can't resist touching the statue of the fictional Molly Malone in Dublin city centre - and in particular touching her breasts. The constant touching has led to discolouring - and offended locals.

Now 23-year-old student Tilly Cripwell is campaigning for Dublin Council to repair the statue and raise it to a less accessible level.

Unfortunately several tour operators have included the statue in their list of local attractions, encouraging more physical contact. Also an urban myth has emerged that touching the statue's breasts will bring good luck.

Dublin Council says it's considering the campaigner's requests and has asked for cost quotations for carrying out the work.

I've never actually seen the statue in situ but I can understand the objection to visitors casually groping her breasts as if that's okay ("It's only a statue" as some of them put it).

The Council could put up a "Do Not Touch" sign but how many people would take any notice?

Molly Malone isn't a real person of course. She was a legendary Dublin woman who sold shellfish in the city streets. She's the subject of a traditional folk song that's now the city's unofficial anthem.

Anyway, the next time I'm in Dublin I'll check out the statue - and see if anyone's fondling it.

PS: The lyrics are here: https://www.google.com/search?q=molly+malone+lyrics

Till death us do part?

Considering how long marriages are now meant to last - maybe 60 to 70 years - it's not surprising that so many spouses get restless and start looking elsewhere.

At one time people died in their 30s and there was barely any time for disenchantment to set in. Even when I was young people still died in their 60s so marriage didn't last nearly so long. But still we pledge to stay married "until death us do part".

So it shouldn't really be remarkable that after a while some people find their marriages stale and unfulfilling and start affairs or abandon the marriage altogether.

Jenny and I have been lucky enough to stay together despite our ever-changing personalities and opinions. Whatever differences we've had were never enough to drive us apart. I suppose the key thing that unites us is a shared political perspective. If one of us abruptly became a fervent right-winger that would separate us for sure.

When a marriage breaks down the spurned partner can be devastated, but with today's marriages lasting so long such a breakdown has to be seen as a possibility from the start. You can't assume you'll still be together a few decades down the line.

Some people may say that a successful marriage flows along of its own accord, but I don't think that's true. In my experience you do have to work at it, before minor disagreements and annoyances turn into serious rifts.

By this stage of course there's little chance of Jenny or I suddenly starting a passionate affair, but who knows?

Not ready

It's appalling to learn that so many children starting school nowadays lack all sorts of basic skills and abilities like using the toilet, climbing a staircase, reading books, or even getting dressed.

Their deficiencies are so common that the government is to introduce a checklist of skills that children should possess by the time they start school.

Teachers are increasingly finding that on top of their normal teaching functions they're having to do things like changing nappies and helping children up the stairs - things parents should have taken care of long before start of school.

As I recall from my early schooldays, there weren't any children who lacked such basic skills. It would have been totally shocking if they had. My mother obviously had a very clear idea of what school readiness meant, and would have been mortified if I'd turned up at school in nappies.

It seems a lot of young children are simply not getting enough exercise and not using their muscles enough to strengthen them because they spend so much time looking at screens.

While nine out of ten parents considered their child ready for school, teachers said one in three children weren't. Some parental education is plainly much needed.

All emotional

It's the norm these days that we should all express our emotions as much as possible, and if you tend to keep your emotions to yourself that's not healthy.

Well, I'm one of those emotionally cautious types, trying not to express my feelings publicly unless they're positive and helpful rather than damaging.

Many emotions are harmful (jealousy, contempt, hatred, resentment, to name a few), yet people casually fling them around as if they're harmless.

One result is the ferocious hatred directed at celebrities on social media, and the bitter conflicts over things like transgender, immigration and diversity.

It's a cliché that therapists tend to ask "how do you feel about that?", as if feelings are the key to very problem. But that isn't the case. Often it's the way you look at a situation that's the key and not feelings.

Expressing your jealousy or resentment that someone else is doing better than you are at something won't help the situation, but working out why that person is doing better and following their example would be a lot more productive.

I missed out on the jealousy gene altogether and I've never felt jealous about anyone. It makes more sense to focus on my own life and how it's going.

There are plenty of emotions swilling about inside me, I just prefer to express them prudently rather than freely.

Open to question

Neither Jenny or I have ever been diagnosed with a mental disorder, but it seems mental illness is becoming increasingly common. Is this really the case or are a lot of those diagnoses arguable?

In all my time at two different schools I don't remember anyone having a recognisable mental illness, except maybe the boy who committed suicide. Obviously there were boys with personality quirks but nothing more serious than that. So why are mental disorders now so widespread?

Some health professionals believe the epidemic of mental illness isn't what it seems. People may be more willing to accept they have a mental disorder. Therapists might be more likely to diagnose one. What was once seen as simply odd behaviour may now be seen as a mental disorder. And there are new mental disorders to apply to people - like ADHD.

So the jury's definitely out on the explosion of mental illness, and whether it's a real increase or not.

Certainly severe mental illness is just that and can't be explained away. An old school friend of Jenny's was seriously schizophrenic and killed herself at the second attempt. She was clearly very disturbed, had crazy fantasies and constantly alienated other people.

Then again mental illness may simply be an understandable reaction to someone's rotten life situation. If I was being badly treated at work, or by my spouse, or by my family, and I was living in a crumbling, mould-infested flat, and I was heavily in debt, I think some sort of mental disorder would be almost inevitable.

Breadwinning

Jenny and I have never believed in the idea of the male breadwinner, or all the ideas that go with it, like a man being ashamed of not earning enough, or not earning at all. Or the man not doing some glamorous, enviable job but some unglamorous job like a barista.

Jenny and I have never been bothered by which one of us is working or which one of us is supporting the other.

I supported her when she was studying for degrees and she supported me when I was unemployed. By the time she retired she was earning much more than me but neither of us saw that as a problem. Certainly I was never ashamed of failing some masculine expectation about working or not working.

Nor did it matter that I spend many years working in humble bookshop or admin jobs for a very modest wage (and thoroughly enjoying them).

But I gather a lot of men are still hung up on the old male breadwinner formula and get quite eaten up if they're not fulfilling their required gender role. And it seems a lot of women are still under pressure not to overshadow their men workwise.

The statistics: in 29 per cent of marriages both spouses earn about the same amount of money. Some 55 per cent of marriages have a husband who is the prime or sole breadwinner and 16 per cent have a breadwinner wife.

So the male breadwinner pattern is a long time dying.

PS: I missed a few comments on previous posts because I no longer get comments by email. My apologies if someone has been overlooked.

No stopping

Over-tourism again. A woman is complaining that while she was hiking in the Peak District in Derbyshire her parked car was damaged and she got a parking fine. She wanted to witness the sunrise, after seeing videos of the Mam Tor beauty spot on social media.

She was parked near a clearway sign that means no stopping. She assumed that because lots of cars were parked on the road she could do the same.

She admits parking near the clearway sign, but blames the road authorities for not building more car parks or adding extra road signs.

There are several responses to that. Firstly, she should have obeyed the road sign and not copied the other motorists. Secondly she should have realised that all the parked cars were narrowing the road and it was highly likely that her car could be damaged by a large vehicle. And thirdly, there are plenty of places to view a sunrise and she didn't need to drive to Derbyshire from her home town of Milton Keynes, a 250 mile round trip.

No wonder so many places are blighted by over-tourism if people don't have the common sense to go somewhere that's not already far too popular and plagued by thoughtless visitors.

There's no need for more car parks or extra road signs. What's needed is a bit more savvy about where you're planning to go and the havoc caused by hundreds of day trippers like you descending on the latest trendy beauty spot.

Jenny and I are fond of Castlerock, a seaside village on the north coast with a population of around 1160. Usually there's hardly anyone about and it's wonderfully quiet and peaceful. But everyone flocks to nearby Portrush, which in the summer is overflowing with visitors.

Nowt so queer as folk.

Pic: the summit of Mam Tor

Frail and doddery

There's a plethora of stereotypes about older people, most of which are nonsense - or at least they apply to some oldies but not to others. For example:

• We're dripping with wealth
• We're frail and doddery
• We're overwhelming the NHS
• We don't like young people
• We're living in the past
• We're intolerant right-wingers
• We're terrified we'll be mugged - or burgled
• We drone on about our medical problems

Well, let me see now. How many of these stereotypes apply to myself?

• Dripping with wealth? I'm well-off but not wealthy
• Frail and doddery? Not yet. Still pretty healthy
• Overwhelming the NHS? I hardly ever need a doctor
• Don't like young people? Only if they're stupid or nasty
• Living in the past? I've been on the internet for decades
• Intolerant right-winger? I'm a dyed-in-the-wool leftie
• Terrified I'll be mugged? Not in this low-crime neighbourhood
• Medical droning? I never mention my health issues to others

Stereotypes are just that, aren't they? One-sided clichés that never give you the full picture of anything. Stereotypes of young people are just as one-sided and incomplete as the stereotypes of oldies.

The stereotype that really annoys me is the idea that we oldies are overwhelming the NHS. If the NHS was properly funded, properly staffed, and properly equipped with up-to-date machines and technology, then it would cope very well, oldies and all.

Well, we can dream....

Cushy or what?

I've never been in prison, or even visited prison. I don't know anyone else who's been in prison (unless they're hiding it of course). So my knowledge of what it's like to be in jail is nebulous to say the least. It comes entirely from second-hand sources like books and the media.

And naturally there's a wide spectrum of impressions and it's up to me to decide which impressions seem more credible than the others.

Some say prisoners are pampered. They have all mod cons like TVs, computers and mobile phones. They have free board and lodging and no bills to pay. Being in jail isn't a punishment but a cushy number. After all, some ex-prisoners deliberately commit new crimes so they can return to prison!

Others say prisons are horrific places and not in any way cushy. Prisoners have to piss and shit in their cells, they're stuck in their cells for 23 hours a day, they get raped by other prisoners, they hardly ever see their loved ones. Not to mention their deteriorating mental health.

I guess the reality is that prisons vary immensely, and while some may be fairly bearable others are hellholes of cruelty and violence.

It's noticeable that prominent public figures tend to be spared the worst jails and get placed in the more hospitable ones, like the so-called open prisons that have the least restrictions on movements and activities.

If I ever ended up in jail, there's no way I could survive such a brutish existence. I would go completely mad in a matter of weeks. How other people endure jail for decades on end I can't imagine. Their resilience is extraordinary.

Standing firm

My mother (Audrey) would never have called herself a feminist ("they're so strident and aggressive and obsessed"), but she nevertheless believed in women being strong and not being pushed around by men.

She stood up to my father when he opposed her wish to train as a teacher (or a schoolmarm as he put it). He wanted her to stay at home and be the diligent housewife she had always been. He didn't want anything to interfere with his cosy domestic routine.

But my mother resisted him and went ahead with learning to drive and then training as a primary school teacher. She knew that if she didn't follow her long-standing urge to try her hand at teaching she'd always regret it.

She taught for something like ten years and adored every minute of it. She loved helping her pupils to improve their reading and writing and maths and simply encouraging them to enjoy learning.

As it happened, my father died just a few years after she retired and his intransigent stance died with him. I don't think he ever came to terms with my mother's steadfast resolve to follow her own path.

I thought her attitude was wonderful and I supported her every inch of the way. It would have been a terrible shame if on her death bed she had voiced her regret at not having done something she dearly wanted to do.

I never asked her, but I imagine she was very pleased that women today are encouraged to be whatever they want to be and make the most of their abilities.