Nobody likes change... so please just try to think of me as the new normal
CHANGE. Perhaps it’s because we’re British or maybe it’s just human nature but we’re not very good at it are we? Look what happens when they mess with the telly schedules and Corrie gets bumped for the footy or the Olympics. Mayhem.
Or when they shunt the shelves around in Tesco and suddenly the cereal is next to the coffee rather than the custard. Chaos.
We know what we like and we like what we know.
That’s why we take our own teabags abroad and why Antiques Roadshow has been on the BBC for 40 years.
All right, we bucked the trend when we upended everything and voted for Brexit, but let’s not get into that here.
This is supposed to be a light-hearted column and we’ve only just met
Discussing Brexit at this stage in the relationship feels akin to grilling someone about their salary on a first date. Not done.
Anyway, my point is that change is hard.
Look at those New Year resolutions we all make:
■ Eat healthier;
■ Take up exercise; or
■ Learn a language.
Most of them broken before you can say Bob’s Your Uncle – in French or otherwise – and certainly before the last of the Bailey’s has been drunk.
It takes effort, you see, to make or get used to a change in habit.
For most people it’s a daunting prospect.
We don’t like it, are suspicious of it and complain to our nearest and dearest – or fellow befuddled shoppers in Tesco.
But here’s a funny ny thing. When change does s come along it never lasts.
Sometimes, in very ery short order, the abnormal, al, the new, the strange quickly uickly becomes the norm m and what was once e mind-bogglingly unrecognisable turns rns into the familiar.
When my youngest est left to go to university last September I was, I don’t mind telling you, a little bit heartbroken.
No more music blasting from her room.
No more laying awake waiting for the key in the lock at sparrow o’clock.
There was food in the fridge, dry towels in the bathroom, a new-found freedom to see my mates and total control over th the TV remot remote.
A And I hated it. Now, five m months in, li living with ju just the cats an and my hus husband is the new re reality. And it’s fine. Now, w when she and her b brother come hom home, I find myself mildly irritated there’s no milk and the washing basket is overflowing.
I eye the calendar, enquiring as politely as I can when their courses re-start.
And now it’s all change for this page.
I’m the new girl, and while I’m not suggesting a fresh columnist in your favourite newspaper is life-altering, it is different.
I’ve spent a lifetime in journalism so I know readers take change very seriously.
We might take a bit of time getting used to each other but I’m certain we’ll ultimately rub along just fine.
Now then, if someone could just point me towards the Weetabix...