Apologies for the delay between posts. You may (or may not) have been wondering what’s taken me so long. Rest assured, I’m grateful for every subscriber, many of whom I don’t know personally but who have kindly chosen to have my words delivered to their inbox.

In recent weeks I’ve been in a malaise, born predominantly from the loss of our dear old dog, who passed away peacefully last month, while I was overseas. The timing was unfortunate, but his need to rest was greater than my need for him to hold on. The house feels devoid of his larger-than-life presence, I still well up at the mention of his name, and I miss his sweet face every day.

Fudge Joslyn died one year and four days after his brother, Digby. While I’m thankful my husband, whom he adored, was with him at the end, I desperately want to watch our dear dog do his happy dance, the prelude to a walk, just one more time. To stroke his face, and tell him he’s my baby boy. The tragedy of life though, is that we never know when our everyday moments become our last.

In a previous post I’ve admitted to being a bad Catholic, and I still cling to a lingering hope that there is an afterlife. I’m friends with many who don’t believe, and that’s fine. In some ways I envy their ability to draw a line in the sand. The finality of death saves them from the torturous hope of being reunited one day with those we love and hold dear.

Therefore I will continue to listen for the tap of his feet against the wall, while dreaming, the clack of his ears when he shook his head, and the feel of his nudging wet nose when deciding that he wasn’t quite done with the belly rubs yet, thank-you very much.

Pet Peeves

It’s said that you’re never six feet away from a rat, much in the same way I’m never six minutes away from a rant. The passing of years allows for a certain degree of irascibility - a quality I’ve always found appealing in others, a sure fire indication that the individual is invested, that they care enough to feel strongly about the matter in question. In contrast to apathy, the absence of care, a hollow indifference to life’s sticky moments.

And the older I get, the more I find to rant about…Take for example:

• Self Service Checkouts

I’m not alone in resenting the growth of these modern day abominations, but a lesser known fact is that the concept of self service is relatively new.

Until the 1940s, most grocery stores in the UK operated with counter service, where the shopkeeper personally attended to each customer. Assistants would fetch the items from the shelves before totalling the purchase at the till, making grocery shopping an enjoyable, almost social activity.

However, during the Second World War, this traditional system faced significant challenges. With many women joining the workforce, staff shortages became common, compounded by the complexities of rationing and the constant threat of air raids, leading to long queues in stores.

Enter the concept of self-service, which was initially said to be overwhelming and confusing for shoppers, many of whom were accustomed to a personal relationship with their shopkeepers. For some, placing groceries in a basket themselves, almost felt like stealing.

Fast forward to today, where self-service checkouts now outnumber staffed tills, and ironically, supermarkets around the world are reporting a sharp rise in shoplifting. In Australia, larger retailers have had to implement costly security measures, while a smaller grocery store in Greenslopes, Brisbane, has gone so far as to announce the removal of their self-service checkouts altogether.

If you’re anything like me, you’ll rejoice at this news. I sincerely hope that retailers in the UK follow suit. I have always questioned the validity of the scheme, which labours under the guise that these machines benefit the consumer, as opposed to the shareholder.

However the younger generation tend to disagree. The preference of using self-checkout versus a counter staffed by a human among Gen Z, according to survey findings, is driven by speed, the desire for shorter lines/wait times and a reduced amount of human interaction. 

You can’t see me right now, but trust that my response to this declaration is an eye roll so pronounced, that it circumnavigates my eyeball, north, south, east and west.

Sure, the modern day checkouts serve a purpose when you’re paying for two items on your lunch break, but wasn’t that the point of the 10 items or less till, which just so happened to be manned by a person in gainful employment?

Exchanging pleasantries, whether at a shop, bus stop, or in a queue, is crucial to the future of civilisation. Bold statement, I know, but hear me out. Social interaction fosters empathy and helps us interpret non-verbal cues. Without regular social engagement, our ability to read these subtle signs diminishes, making it harder to rely on our instincts and connect authentically with others.

Over time, the absence of regular social interaction weakens the bonds that hold communities together, leading to isolation and a lack of care for the collective good. In short, people become indifferent to the needs of others.

The disconnect has already begun - a growing reluctance among a large portion of society, many of whom baulk when a well-intentioned stranger initiates a conversation. Lacking the trust to rely on their instincts, this group tends to err on the side of caution, avoiding or resisting human interaction. And so the vicious cycle of isolation continues.

So I say, come join me, boycott the self-serve checkout, keep people employed - and banish that unexpected item in the bagging area.

• Acoustic Covers

Usually described as musical renditions of popular songs performed in an unplugged style, original compositions would often be slowed down and stripped back, resulting in a solo singer using one or two instruments at their disposal. Acoustic covers became hugely popular in the 1990’s and arrived after grunge/alternative rock exploded onto the scene.

I imagine that, for some, acoustic acted as a musical palette cleanser. In theory, it all sounds rather lovely. Except it wasn’t. To this day, I can’t quite understand why the (rip-off) artist in question would take a record, usually a hugely successful slow melodic song, and essentially reduce the speed of the turntable from 45 RPM to 33 RPM, creating a drawn-out, frankly miserable version of the track.

This particular pet peeve was triggered recently when I had the misfortune to overhear an acoustic cover of Chris Issac’s “Wicked Game.” For those unfamiliar with the song, it’s a minimalist, melancholic arrangement featuring a haunting solo vocal. In other words, what it needs is a disco sample. What it didn’t need was having it slowed down to a virtual stop.

Unfortunately, it seems that the acoustic cover is finding a new audience through the streaming service Spotify. Thanks to which, there are people out there currently listening to an acoustic version of “Creep” by Radiohead, unaware of its origins - and that’s down to the fact that acoustic covers strip songs of their true meaning and voice, reducing them to easy-to-digest melodies until the source becomes almost unrecognisable.

Admittedly, I’m of an age where the best tunes are blasted in the frozen food aisle of the supermarket, but I can’t help wondering, where have all the high tempo, joyous, frivolous FUN songs gone? With anxiety and depression at an all time high, we could do with a return to the old school banger. A piece of music which lifts your spirits within seconds of the intro, a tune which makes your feet twitch and your heart sing.

So I say bring back the pop groups, the indie bands and rock gods. And for the sake of our mental health, speed up the turntable!

• Self-Care

I mentioned this topic briefly in a previous post - when I spoke of my time in hotel quarantine, and my inability to meditate, touching on the fact that my family grew up in rural Ireland during the 1930s and 40s, when life was exceptionally tough. In working-class communities such as theirs, introspection was often viewed as indulgent or wasteful, distracting from the necessity of work or other 'useful' activities.

And although it’s great that we live in a time where there’s lots of support for those struggling with mental health issues, I can't help but feel that the modern trend towards wellness and therapy has turned into a monetised social activity, often prioritising self-improvement as a marketable product rather than a personal journey.

To put it simply, I reckon it would benefit everyone if individuals would focus less on their own introspection and more on contributing positively to the world around them. My epiphany came after watching an interview with Austrian muscleman Arnold Schwarzenegger, who credited his success to his father’s simple but profound advice: always “be useful.”

It’s a straightforward concept, but one that seems to be lost in our navel-gazing society. What we need is less self-absorption and more outward-looking engagement. By directing our efforts toward helping others and making a tangible impact, we can foster a community where personal growth is intertwined with the betterment of society as a whole.

Can you sense a theme here….?!

• Leaf-blowers - All I’ll say on this subject is that I firmly believe the decline of humankind can be traced back to the moment someone set aside the garden rake and chose to use an electrical appliance instead—resulting not only in a substandard job, but also annoying every neighbour within a 50-metre radius.

• People who play music/videos out loud on public transport/in a natural place of beauty/anywhere except the privacy of one’s own home - No argument there eh?

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And finally….

I recently made a decision to go back to my roots and quit with the hair dye, which has been a constant companion in my life. At the age of 51, I’ve embraced my natural colour, which is “Old Lady Grey” - a shade you can find in the Dulux aisle, sandwiched between “Not Done Yet” and “Pass Me a Werthers Original.”

I did not see my decision as being particularly contentious. Whilst my husband is, as always, supportive and complimentary, my mother the same, the reaction I have received from others has been what can only be described as a mixed bag.

And while opinions are like ar*eholes, in that everybody has one….I’ve been flummoxed by the number of women, mostly my age and older, who continue to dye their roots but have been vocal in their disapproval. Some have even gone so far as to call me brave 🤷🏻‍♀️

Look, I’m not seeking compliments, but what a strange world we live in, where we claim to be progressive, celebrate individuality and encourage authenticity - regardless of whether it contradicts science, logic, or popular opinion - yet we criticise a woman for letting her natural hair colour come through. It’s a world where the phrase “be kind” is tossed around like a get-out-of-jail-free card, but the deployment of which, in this instance, was noticeably scarce on the ground.

In my day, we were simply told to “treat others as you wish to be treated” - and sometimes, we all need telling….But by allowing my hair to go grey, I sensed it unnerved or annoyed people, as if I was pulling back the curtain to reveal an uncomfortable truth. It felt like my actions exposed both my own and their outward signs of aging, stripping away the denial or facade and forcing people to confront a fact they’ve been avoiding for years.

Who knows for sure…

But here’s what I think… Continue to touch up your roots if you so wish. Part with your hard earned money, if the salon’s your go….Cos at the end of the day it’s really none of my business…But just don’t rain on my grey parade, ok?!

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