‘2025 is going to be the year. It has to be better than last year, at least!’
Somehow, we seem to have said/continue to say that every year as the clock strikes Midnight and a new year dawns. Of course, the weather is dark and miserable and everyone is exhausted, particularly at the prospect of January; that and, like so many, I have never liked New Year. A time of reflection and, quite honestly, a dread of the next disaster! Life seems to have become increasingly hard – for all – and it’s not just an age thing. Granted, those of us advancing in years (yes, of course, we all are) – well, my peers, then, have much to compare; too much to compare! We, of the halcyon years before money and the digital world ate us all for breakfast, lunch and dinner … Nostalgia can prove a bitter pill. Were we lucky to have lived in a gentler, more human world or does it merely make the reality of this one so much more difficult to bear?
It’s been a long time since I have had the chance to sit down at my laptop and just write as I think. Too long. I miss it. Once, my therapy, life in 2025 has all but starved me of that privilege. Escapism. Yes, that’s what it is – and something I have always craved; that, and humour. I miss humour, sarcasm, specifically. I grew up with it, with a father who made me laugh every single day – and, more often than not, at my own expense. He could make light of any fraught situation, always the voice of calm – and reassurance. The voice in my head – and he remains so. I like to remember him that way; his wonderful dry wit. Sadly, the cruelty of his final years lent no hand to laughter and, for that, there are those who must live with the guilt, and others with regret. For my part, he gave me my strength and my humour and I know that he lives on in both Becca and Manny, not only in name but in so much more. I see it every day …
Whoops! Where did that come from? I suppose, as I write, it is miserable, dark and raining outside. Pathetic fallacy? As I said, we’re all tired and stressed and desperately in need of laughter. From where? Once, we were awash with humour; television boasted the likes of Morecambe & Wise, Billy Connolly, Freddie Starr, Brucie … pure escapism and fun. In truth, intelligence. For, wit and fun go hand-in-hand with that – a certain level of intelligence – in my book. Character, too, is a requirement. Know any clones who are funny?! Is it any wonder I, repeatedly, mention Hugh Grant? As Sandra Bullock once said, it would be her wish that everyone be granted time in his company – and I know exactly what she means. Of course, he is good-looking, suave and well-dressed but, more than that, he is extremely intelligent, well-educated and possessing of an ascerbic wit. A nice guy? Sadly, as of now, I can’t answer that. Extremely patient and tolerant of us when we met him – on more than one occasion, many years ago – no restraining order followed. However, on the subject of clones, how much better this world would be if there was a Hugh round every corner?
‘My grandmother was utterly convinced I’d end up as the Archbishop of Canterbury. And, to be honest, I’ve never entirely ruled it out.’
Just that little ending … perfect.
Laughter. Woke. Like two magnets repelling. That’s the side-effect of everything wrong with this world – and, boy, there is everything wrong with this world! The result? No humour for fear of offence. Victimhood is the name of the game, now, thanks to 25th May, 2020 – pity the poor person who happens to have been born on the 25th May … Becca. You were two weeks late, though! My point – apropos the dearth of humour in this increasingly dark world? My challenge, should I accept it, is to find/bring some! Never one to shy away from a challenge … I no longer make notes. I no longer pause the TV every five minutes to write down a quote. My desk is no longer piled high with scribbles. In short, I have given up. It’s just too darn depressing! So it is that, some time ago, I binned the lot; yes, the lot, with the exception of two lists: one – ever increasing – denoting the kind of people I don’t like (have I ever mentioned I don’t like people?!); and the other, a catalogue of random questions which have long/continue to puzzle me. Different, both made me smile. Permit me to share a snippet of each. Straight from the page!
I dislike people …
– who don’t sing in church
– who don’t smile and say ‘Hello’
– who talk only about themselves
– who never ask about you
– who don’t like animals
– who insist on only paying for what they have consumed
– who have no opinions
– who follow
– who never look beyond their own little world
– who don’t say ‘Thank you’ when driving
– who don’t hold the door or thank you for doing so for them
– who send Christmas cards from Tesco (other supermarkets are available) because it’s less hassle than buying charity cards
– who walk their toy dogs round the shops in harrnesses and extendable leads
– in fact, men who walk toy dogs!
Believe me, that’s only a snippet. I know, too true to be funny. How about a couple of random questions, then?
Why are all football managers in this country foreign?
Why do they all have to chew gum with their mouths open?
Why does everyone need to go to the loo on a plane, immediately after take-off?
Why do the doors of the Ryanair bus always open on the opposite side to me?
Why, in a car park, when I park miles from anyone, does someone always park right next to me?
Why, when charging one’s phone, does it always stick at 99%?
Shall I go back to taking notes?
‘You’re only given a little spark of madness and, if you lose that, you’re nothing.’
Robin Williams, you were so right!
This is Trish, signing off.
