The sage wisdom of saying no, no thanks, not ever

THERE are downsides to getting old, let’s face it. The knees creak, the eyebags sag, and going out for a night often seems more effort than it’s worth. When I see The Girl and The Boy out and about with their friends I envy their youth, the carefree nature of their lives, their easy laughter and how they wonder at the simple discoveries they make each day. But, for all that, getting on a bit has its upsides. Confidence in self grows with age, as does confidence about what you like and what you don’t. Wisdom and sagacity only really come with age, as do the benefits of experience. One of the best things I have learned in my 54 years is the benefit of saying ‘No.’ Saying ‘No’ is not always easy, especially when young. If the question is ‘Would you like to go out with me tonight?’ then it is hard to answer with ‘No’ or even ‘No thank you’ if you don’t want to cause offence. Because it is so hard you often answer with a softer ‘Well I can’t tonight but...’ or even worse ‘I’d love to but I can’t tonight.’ I have learned that getting the negative out there nice and early avoids an awful lot more complicated and very awkward pain further down the line.

‘Would you like to take part in this training workshop?’ ‘No.’ ‘Would you like to join the committee?’ ‘No.’ ‘Be a governor?’ ‘No.’ ‘Would you like to come rock climbing with us?’ ‘No. Not ever.’ The trouble is, though, there are still a few questions where you kind of have to say ‘Yes’ even though you really don’t want to do it. Top of the list, and absolutely impossible to say ‘No’ to is: ‘Would you like to be my best man?’ Fingers crossed, everyone I know who was ever likely to ask me that is now happily married, or has sworn off coupling up ever again. Twenty-five years ago being asked to be a best man was an honour and was always quite exciting. There was the stag night to arrange (exciting), the wedding day to dress up for and be important on (exciting), and of course the speech (terrifying). The sheer terror of public speaking used to completely overshadow my enjoyment of the experience, but over the years I have got over that bit. Now the thought of having to go on a stag night, let alone organise one, fills me with complete despair. I find it impossible to imagine that I used to think trawling around city centre bars dressed as a pencil in seedy areas of European cities with a large group of drunk males was ever fun, let alone the obligatory paintballing or go-karting daytime activity. Throw in the tyingsomeone-to-a-lamppost bit and in my mind you have a couple of days of real-life nightmare. With a fair wind, I’ll never have to reply in the negative to one of those invitations again, leaving just two other tricky questions to deal with. Very hard to say ‘No’ to is the curve ball that is: ‘Is there any chance you could look after the kids?’ Again, it is now unlikely that I will be bowled that one as most people I know have children now perfectly capable of looking after themselves. Thank God. The only little ones I know I quite like to look after. For a bit. The final tricky one is: ‘Could you please look after our dog?’ Mrs Martin and I love dogs; we have three. We know how hard it is to get anyone to look after them, so if anyone asks us, it is our natural bent is to say ‘yes’. I mean, dogs are easy, right? Walk them, feed them, love them. Simple. The trouble is other people’s dogs are like other people’s children – a pain in the butt! I recall the wise words of my elderly uncle: ‘The thing to remember about children is that everyone thinks their own are wonderful – but nobody else does!’