Diary of an urban Grandad

There are good things about an empty diary. A pause in the mad helter-skelter rush, as we zoom from cradle to grave

OK. Got to admit, this latest lockdown has got me dazed and confused. But amidst all the other obvious questions racing through all of our minds, there is one you probably haven’t heard before.

It’s this. If you could choose your favourite food for the next few weeks or more, what would it be? Are you a carrot cruncher or a gravy bone biscuit muncher? Hmm. Before you get too confused, let me explain. It all makes perfect sense. Sort of.

Normally, at this time of year, as the calendar wakes up and gets back to business, I begin dreaming dreams, making plans for foreign work trips and checking to see if my travel insurance is up to date and ready to roll. This year, not so much.

Instead of the above, this year, like so many of us, I have nothing but an almost empty diary ahead of me. Getting emptier by the email. It’s like watching the last remnants of snow melting away in the back garden. You know it’s going to happen, but it still feels strangely disappointing.

Any little jobs that were pencilled in are now being cancelled, delayed or just plain ignored. One thing seems sure, it’s going to be a long lonely winter. And spring too, probably.

All of which leaves me, dear reader, with a problem. I suspect a lot of us are facing it. Another example of the age-old, “glass half empty, or glass half full,” syndrome. You see, there are good things about an empty diary. A pause in the mad, helter-skelter rush, as we zoom from cradle to grave.

Allows us time to stop and think. To re-examine our place on the hamster wheel, the choices that led us here. It can be helpful to spend precious moments measuring out your life with coffee spoons. To ask yourself what you really, really want. To decide what you should be spending your time and energy on.

When there is no work to be done, no business to transact, you have the perfect excuse to stare at the clouds, check for signs of new life in the garden or just take the dogs for an extra walk in the park.

Doesn’t pay the bills, of course, but it does pass the time rather nicely. However, I find that as one is doing the above, thinking and meditating upon life, you quickly realise there are different ways of seeing the world. To my simple mind, it seems as if the world contains two distinct points of view.

On the one hand, in the dingy corner, we have the donkeys of doom. The carrot crunchers. Those poor souls who live in fear of the sky falling on their heads and the world ending tomorrow. They always seem to act as if the glass is half empty. No matter how full it is.

On the other hand, in the sunny corner, we have the happy-golucky ones. The dogs of delight. The gravy bone biscuit munchers. The ones who believe life is a gift to be enjoyed, savoured and lived with tails wagging. Naturally, they see the glass as being half full. Even when there is nothing left in it apart from froth and happy memories of beer long gone.

One thing both these types of people have in common is the belief that their way of looking at the world is the only way any decent human could see the situation. This whole Covid craziness has shone an extra bright light onto this odd quirk of human nature.

When it comes to choosing which team to be on, I have already made a decision. I’m choosing the happy-go-lucky view of the world. To run with the doggies. I don’t want to get depressed with the donkeys. Not saying it’s the only game in town, but it definitely seems to be the most fun. For instance, over the last few years, the donkeys have spent a lot of time with long faces. Telling us everything is going to end in disaster.

Don’t know about you, but that hasn’t been my experience. In truth, whatever happens, life goes on.

There are ups and there are downs. But, on the whole, the world doesn’t really care what we think of the cards that get played.

All of which is just a long windy way of saying that whatever happens over the next few weeks, we have a choice. To be a donkey, or a dog. Speaking for myself, I’m going for the doggy delight option. What are you going to do?

Either way. Woof, woof! And pass the biscuits.

Hope you and yours are safe, well and happy.

Until next time, all the best,