What the vacuum cleaner does: Blow its fan air high into the corners of the room, thus confusing the tiny house spiders into thinking they have caught a tasty morsel in their shaking webs.
What I ponder about – apropos lifespans: We consider a small being such as a nat to have such a small and insignificant life, but to the nat, its life may seem as long and as full as a human feels his life to be. If this is so, then the interpretation of time must vary considerably between beings. So I ask, what is the true worth of time if it is so brief and yet so vast all at once? How insignificant and small must we seem to the great elm or oak, and how brief Earth must seem as it passes in and out of existence in the blink of the universe’s eye.
What my mum did when she was young: Go to the doctor’s reporting that she had lumps all over her tongue.
What the doctor said they were: Tastebuds.
What I do every time I think about her telling this: Smile. There is nothing more humourous than life itself.
How many times I’ve knocked the torch out of the cupboard: Thirteen.
What I do to the torch: Check it still works, then move it to the remote caddy by my side of the bed. What use for a torch I’ll have while sleeping, I don’t know; I’m not even sure I’ll notice there’s been a power cut – I’m certainly not old enough to get up for the loo in the middle of the night. I can’t think why we have a remote caddy either, we never watch TV in the bedroom anyway. These are first world problems; I wish life was simpler, we could fill it only with the things that matter then.
What I do in the kitchen: Open the fridge and exclaim “Ew! It’s all mouldy!” When my wife comes in to investigate I show her the block of Stilton and chuckle to myself while she huffs at me for being stupid. I make out like I’m going to tickle her and she runs out the room. We’ll be embarrassing parents if the time ever comes.
What I think about: If Stilton is mouldy to start with, then what is the “used by” date for? Does the bad mould grow after that date? Or does the good mould flip over to the bad side when it sees how much fun the jam is having at the back of the fridge…
What I put in the cupboard in place of the small torch: A bigger torch that is less like to be knocked out, but doesn’t quite fit in the space on the shelf.
What our new candles smell of: Coffee
What I wonder: When exactly the world became obsessed with coffee and its effects and who is responsible for filling my social media feeds up with adverts and quips about the damn stuff. I’m getting stressed about it. I think I need a drink, maybe a cup of…
What I’m thinking: This was 2013 – the year when everybody kept calm and carried on; although, more likely, the year we bought mugs and mouse mats and T-shirts with that, and every variation of it, on just so we can stare at it all day and tell ourselves “everything is going to be OK”; when just under our skins we were fretting about rocketing energy prices and how we are going to afford to heat our homes this winter; and about the Government re-allocating tax so richer folk could pay less by being conned into buying brand-spanking-new “zero-tax, green vehicles” and the rest of us pay more to cover the deficit – the roads still haven’t been repaired. Is this the year we finally found balance? No, I say not; but the Government appears to think so.
Nevertheless, we are in the thick of an astronomic technical evolution that is snowballing toward the complete perfection of convenience; this is not something to turn your nose up at. The majority of the human race will not succumb to laziness as we near this goal, but will find their minds burning with an even fiercer hunger for knowledge and mental expansion. This is a wonderful time to be alive – and with the help of the Internet, you can feel like you have been here since day dot; on the other hand, of course, you may feel your life can be defined simply by a bleak set of coding, a string of meaningless ones and zeros, in which case, you must take a walk and re-discover the beauty of the natural world; you must remember that you are made of matter, as is the earth and everything on it; synergy is important – take a bath, as Archimedes did, and you will find your inspiration, your zest for living, once again. It is our nature to find solace amongst the turmoil, so try to go with the flow. Life on earth is chaotic – carefull yet daring, stable yet unbalanced, terrific yet comforting all at once – this is indeed a wonderful time to be alive. We are all dancing along the sword’s edge, and it seems the joy of life is not knowing which way we will fall.
My confession: I still don’t know what the difference is between those two flush buttons on the top of my toilet.
What My wife and I do in the evening: Make each other laugh so hard we can’t breathe, and when we have finished and composed ourselves we begin to laugh again and forget what started us off in the first place. I wish we could do this everyday.
What I do in the morning when I get out of my lovely, warm bed: Stub my toe on the cold, hard table; anger grips me in its choke-hold and I swear… a lot. The wife doesn’t look happy with me, she never does when I get angry – I get this from my Father, but I’m trying to change.
Things I am scared our children will do: Bump their knees and use their anger against the pain like I do, instead of accepting it for what it is.
What I see on the side of the road on the way to work: A police sign that looks like an advert. Not the usual one that says “fatal accident here!” with the date underneath, but one that said “fatal injury, can you help?” I thought I might phone the police and offer my services, but they would probably send an officer out to section me.
What I did when I stopped chuckling to myself over the road sign: Pondered the poor person or persons that were in that accident, and the people they left behind. Life is so fragile. I hoped they lived theirs to the full.
What Beyoncé sings on the radio: To the left, to the left; everything you own in a box to the left.
Where I think she is standing: Next to her house.
What my head is: Feeling better, for the most part.
“Be compassionate to yourself. That means being gentle to yourself at times when you feel like being self-critical. Think what you’d say to encourage a friend in a similar situation. We often give far better advice to others than we do to ourselves.”