In this new technological world we must change. It is inevitable like evolution that we
adapt or die. I too have made
adaptations I swore I never would.
Thought I’d die rather than capitulate, let me explain.
All my life I have looked on in amazement at human
activities that I see as a perversion of the soul. What are these? It is a
huge swathe of stuff from crosswords, to jigsaw puzzles, includes pub quizzes,
Suduko, word search books (Find Wally for Adults), Mastermind, Who wants to be a
Millionaire, the list goes on. To me, these are all a complete waste of life.
Those who indulge in such activities have little to expend their mental
energies/time on and so indulge in this displacement activity. I regard them all as that ritual behaviour
regularly observed by animals in captivity denied the freedom to express their
real nature. In despair, I observed it
in a university staff tearoom where a book on such questions as, ‘who was King
of England in 708AD?’ is used to while away the valuable free time at breaks. I mean what the hell?
My opinions have brought me into conflict with a wide range
of nice people. Our neighbours would
regularly sit and do 10,000 piece jigsaws on carefully constructed boards. I felt like I had walked in on some
masochistic ritual they felt obliged to subject themselves to. Those who contend that they are good for the
mind, please show me the evidence. I
suspect many will, at this point, wheel out the new brain tools hailed as
useful in preventing senility. To which
I reply, use it or lose it. Like your
legs, which if immobile in a shockingly short space of time, become incapable
of supporting you. So too, your mind
was designed to be active, to achieve, discover, create, engage and
progress. I’ll admit doing something is
better than nothing and for those isolated and deprived of viable alternatives
activities are needed. But surely,
crafts are a better way to go. Or
hobbies, or travel, or meeting new people, or being in contact with those you
already know? The sad thing is that we
have become so socially isolated that we are less able to cope with
anyone. The more we reach for that
soothing crossword to keep us company to while away the remaining hours of
life.
But I must confess to doing Suduko this week. Yes, it is against every principle I choose
to cling to. Let me explain my mother
in Northern Ireland is addicted and spends ages doing these bloody things. People buy her books of the cursed
squares. I once had a colleague in
college who pulled open his drawer in our shared office, full of Suduko
puzzles. If he’d shown me a drawer full
of dirty underpants I would have not have been so disgusted. He could tell from my reaction I was not a
fan. He harboured a resentment towards
me for some years, probably all my fault.
His hostility only changed the day I asked if he had any deodorant. I’d come to work in haste having slept in
and showered but had omitted to apply deodorant and after a taxing morning with
goats in the school animal room could not stand the smell of myself. I asked my Suduko-liking colleague for
deodorant and he opened the cupboard above his desk and showed me a chemists
shop of goodies, elaborating on the benefits of each. I was grateful and he was ecstatic. Obviously sharing toiletries takes relationships to a deeper and
closer level. Our differences over
Suduko forgotten in a haze of Brute deodorant.
If only I could have known that all it took to declare peace and make
friends was to ask for a favour.
