The Midults’ guide to...

Feel­ing tense

The Daily Telegraph - Telegraph Magazine - - CONTENTS -

SOME PEO­PLE ARE not en­tirely re­laxed and that is fine. It ’s fine. It ’s just the way we are en­gi­neered. Us slightly more vig­i­lant types have many qual­i­ties.

We are al­ways pre­pared, for ex­am­ple. We shim­mer with alert­ness and adrenalin. We’ re just not re­laxed. Never en­tirely sur­ren­dered. Re­lax­ation is not the point of us. We are too tense ever to…

SLEEP ON A TRAIN

What kind of psy­chopath can sleep on a train with the lights blar­ing and other peo­ple and thun­der­ing train s ounds and a hand­bag that could be snatched?

WATCH TELLY IN REAL TIME

Where is the joy with­out the com­plete con­trol of pause, rewind and binge? Real time is more com­mit­ment than we can han­dle. And any­thing with any susp ense el­e­ment to it i s an act of self-harm.

WEAR SEXY UN­DER­WEAR

With­out feel­ing that we have to a) apol­o­gise, b) make a joke of it, or c) pre­tend it’s some old thing we’ve had for­ever.

SAY YES TO A HEAD MAS­SAGE AT THE HAIR­DRESSER’S

Please just wash my hair and let me get the hell out of here.

EN­JOY A HAM­MOCK

A tri­umph of hope over ex­pe­ri­ence. Get­ting in, get­ting out, enough said.

DITTO DECKCHAIRS

Will to­day be the day I ir­repara­bly shat­ter my coc­cyx?

AL­LOW OUR PHONE BAT­TER­IES TO DROP BE­LOW 50 PER CENT

Be­cause, what if ? Unimag­in­able.

GET A PET

A cat maybe. But the cat will die. Get run over or sav­aged by a fox . I am al­ready a bit sad about the cat I have never met. Poor dead cat. Poor me.

EN­JOY A ‘LOVELY, LONG LUNCH’

Run­ning out of things to say. Star­ing at empty plates. Miss­ing our week­end nap-por­tu­nity.

RE­MAIN SILENT DUR­ING A MAS­SAGE

I salute those who can lie down and drift off and not ask the masseuse about her life and her thoughts on Brexit.

GO OUT WEAR­ING NO KNICK­ERS

The sheer vul­ner­a­bil­ity of the propo­si­tion is not for us. Not at all.

AN­SWER THE PHONE

Bad news. Ac­cu­sa­tions. In­vi­ta­tions. Im­po­si­tions. Why do I feel a bit lonely?

PARK IN UN­DER­GROUND CAR PARKS

Tiny spa­ces. Squeaky, screechy, rub­bery floor. Pil­lars ev­ery where. Cam­eras ev­ery­where. Mur­der­ers ev­ery­where.

EN­JOY A PIC­NIC

Where is the near­est loo? Where is the near­est ta­ble? Is there shade? How am I go­ing to eat this? Sorry, where is the loo?

DE­FROST THE FRIDGE

Oh God, what if it never starts up again? Can’t eat the whole freezer and find self with­out sup­plies. Mince. And ice. Also flood­ing.

LEAVE A COAT IN A RESTAU­RANT CLOAK­ROOM

I might be cold. I might need to leave in a hurry. There might be a fire. And what if they lose it?

DO ANY­THING AT THE AIR­PORT

Just have to sit still and stare – un­blink­ing – at the de­par­tures board. God for­bid I should miss the board­ing an­nounce­ment by even a nanosec­ond. And once the gate is an­nounced, then go, go, go. No time for Boots or Pret or Sun­glass Hut. Are you in­sane?

SIT ALONE AT A CAFE ON A PAVE­MENT

What am I? French? themidult.com

‘Un­der­ground car parks: Tiny spa­ces. Cam­eras ev­ery­where. Mur­der­ers ev­ery­where’

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