What is it about travel and food?

What is it about travel? I eat continually as if walking epic journeys in need of nutrition to sustain me. The fact that I am bused, flown, carried from pillar to post is incidental. My system may be assisted by all this technology but runs on a much more primitive animalistic operating system. In such close quarters with unknown numbers of my fellow species does their presence trigger a grazing hunger. Eat quickly what is available before others tuck in and leave me bereft?

Or is the hunger stress-related? Far from my home, sofa, fridge and familiar surroundings do I overeat to distract me from all this strangeness.  The comfort of a full belly brings a satisfied sleepiness that almost neutralizes the foreignness. Like a baby, I swig the bottle and stuff down biscuits to shut out the otherness that threatens!

I see the stress on others too. Even queueing is an irritant. Why did he push in? Surely, we should be moving now, where is my boarding ticket and do have I still have my passport!

We hug our familiar belongings, sure that everyone wants what we own. Pulling bags closer still, wrapping handbag straps around shoulders and checking locks on suitcases. The fear-inducing statement, “Have you packed your own case?” is asked. Followed by,"Do you carry inflammable explosive objects?" Of course, you don’t! But the idiots in front and behind you may have not have packed their own cases! They probably don’t even realize the danger of Lithium-ion batteries occasionally bursting into flames on planes.

Suddenly, one feels travelling should only be for those intelligent enough to obey the rules. There should be special scanners to pick out those too stupid to be allowed to fly. The airline staff seem unduly inexperienced and uniformly distracted. One wonders if the pilots and crew on planes are busy on their iPhones checking Facebook instead of watching dials. Answering emails and text messages instead of monitoring storm warnings.

In addition to all this everyone who works in the cockpit or as stewards are all of reproductive age and so are by nature perpetually distracted. Either recovering from devastating breakups or enduring stormy/heated relationships or perennially on the hunt for new potential partners.  All these emotions leave little room for professional performances.  You feel a strong desire to scream “focus, focus please!”

The vista of cotton wool clouds stretching outside my window seat reminds me of some celestial last vision. The intercom announces all the goodies for sale from aftershave to portable speakers, perfume etc and reminds one of the materialistic nature of this whole enterprise. The speaker’s inability to converse coherently in basic English has me doubting his organizational skills and technical know-how. These people have to do cross-checks and safety things after all. I see how slowly they struggle to serve drinks and food as they meander down the cabin. “Come on people get a move on!” You’ve only done this thousands of times. How can you be so crap at it? Running the full length of the cabin to retrieve more lids, Pringles, water, ice. The fact that you are so cack-handed at these simple tasks makes me doubt your ability to deplane this aircraft. Yes, that’s what they call it. Is that phrase itself an evidence of stupidity?

Bring me more food! I am noticing too much. How annoying is my neighbour with his stinky socks. Why can’t he keep his shoes on! The red-haired air steward keeps picking his nose between serving drinks. I know it’s Ryanair, and their uniforms and training scream budget airlines, but surely, they could’ve been given a special training session on the inappropriateness of nose picking when serving drinks and food.

The two women in front have talked incessantly for the entire four-hour flight about their families, their partners, their homes, their holidays, their jobs in those elevated excited tones that strangers use. As if whispering and talking in your normal voice would indicate an intimacy that is not justified by this casual encounter. Instead, the proper volume is high, animated by loud forced laughter. Couples desperately ask others to switch seats so they can sit with their partners. Having achieved the sought-after goal they say not one word to their partner the rest of the flight. The longing is not to be with their loved one at all but to be free of the bloody stranger! That way they can comfortably sulk and moan as normal. It makes this flying tube a little more like home to have that familiar face frowning over Suduko beside them.

Mind you, I shouldn’t complain, we landed safely and we all survived.  However, since I am in complaining mode I’d like to mention the seats on Ryanair.  They are so uncomfortable. I am not claustrophobic but the distance between the seat in front and my face is worryingly small.  Mind you, the prices keep me coming back for more.  Worrying to hear of their plans to have us all standing in the future (surely its a joke?). 

-->

But perhaps this group's song captures the whole cheap airline experience best.

-->

Am I insane or is this?

There are times I read articles in newspapers and truly wonder am I insane? 

I remember a short story of a pickpocket describing himself as a ‘fingersmith’ and giving an account of his craft. Akin to silversmiths, blacksmiths etc he proposed his particular craft required no less hard practice or skill.  He needed to develop physical and mental abilities and even social skills to blend into crowds effectively. Skills such as being able to pinpoint a suitable victim were described with avid enthusiasm. You're almost convinced by his arguments and his total reframing of stealing as an art form of sorts. It almost takes a moral slap to remind yourself that he is talking about targeting the vulnerable, to deprive them of what is rightly theirs. Traumatising the innocent to earn his living and leaving scars that last long after the original crime has been forgotten by both the perpetrator and the courts (if they were ever convicted). The victims can feel isolated and foolish, robbed of their savings and pensions. Many look at the world around them with different eyes. Suspicious of all, trusting no one, even doubting their own capacity to cope in this new world of villainy.

Today's fingersmiths are multitalented and are everywhere. They run investor scams, telephone fraud, internet deception, abuse people etc and they have found their way into companies, governments, councils etc It seems perverse that our systems of justice seem laboriously expensive and are notoriously ineffectual. In the movies, the villain is tracked down by eager expert forensic investigators and Poirot-like detectives who remorselessly bring justice to bear. The truth is far from that reality. Murder cases take years and often go unsolved, assaults and rapes are often not pursued because witness statements/investigations are not actioned or recorded in a timely fashion. Even how things play out in the press can bear little or no relation to actual facts.  But that no longer seems to matter.

The 38-year-old suspect who stabbed a woman and poured acid on her face, we are informed, was not even questioned and instead of being arrested by the police he was taken to hospital for psychiatric examination.  The police found him in a disturbed state.  I can actually remember reading about the same character in the same newspaper attempting to murder the same woman in 2012. He hit the woman and stabbed his victim resulting in her losing an eye. On that occasion, he went on the run and spent five hours on a flagpole threatening to jump off. At the time he was actually still on bail pending proceedings for an earlier attack on a previous partner.

I remember the words of sympathy towards this particular individual as he perched on the flag. With increasingly important individuals in the community anxiously endeavouring to talk him down. Offering understanding and empathy to this poor misguided soul. To find that he has, six years later, stabbed the same woman and poured acid on her face is an insult to reason! Exactly how much abuse of women is to be perpetrated and accepted by the police, law and press.  Today's article depicts a dramatic picture of the poor fellow’s 2012 suicide attempt, clinging to the flagpole under the misleading heading ‘ acid attack suspect not fit to stand trial’. The article states that the victim is ‘ recovering well from stabs, burns’, oh well that’s okay then isn’t it? The article again places its sympathy squarely on the perpetrator and not on the victim. Are we to feel sorry for this man?  His victim had already lost an eye from his previous attack now she lies stabbed in hospital, her face douched in acid and yet somehow the perpetrator is carefully protected from even questioning, never mind arrest!

Am I mad or is this world becoming an art form in 'slight of hand’ and deception? With a choice of font size and the correct photo, they have turned the stabbed and acid burnt woman into a side character to the main story. The injustice of allowing the perpetrator to continue his rampage on the basis that, in the words of the police, he seemed disturbed.  Given that excuse won him sympathy and freedom before from the justice system the entirely sympathetic account in today's press does not bode well for this attack being treated any differently from the former.

Obviously, a man climbing a flagpole and threatening to jump off six years ago trumps a woman being stabbed, punched and having acid thrown in her face today.  Am I insane or is this?

Senility and Sensibility

This year, at its end, I turn 60. The big 60, so I thought it timely to think of all the good things and bad about being this old.

1. Hair grows unexpectedly in noses, ears and on top of toes! I am grateful for the cosiness and warmth this generates.
2. I need to lean on walls to put on underpants but I'm grateful my knees still bend without pain.
3. I forget the names of people, places, dates and things but I'm so glad I'm clearing my brain of such unnecessary clutter.
4. I require glasses for close-up and far away. It's great! It's much easier to meditate while walking as I see no details without glasses and enter a less distracted zone.
5. I sometimes fear that others might spot my frequent mistakes. Such as forgetting why I entered the room, what I'm supposed to be doing or even what I've just done. I'm thankful that no one really gives a damn.
6. My face and body look like a deflated balloon. I'm so grateful that I've grown accustomed to this undulating landscape which grows increasingly textured.
7.  I no longer hear what some people say. I'm happy that most of the time I'm not missing much.
8.  I have developed an aversion to those suffering from middle-aged angst, especially men in their forties who suddenly grow their hair long, buy a motorbike and get an earring. But feel a strange kinship with adolescence and a deep abiding love for all small children and babies.
9. I'm no good at filling in forms or standing on buses but thankfully I've reached that sweet age when people are kind enough to help with forms and offer me their seat on buses.
10. At night, when I can't sleep, I convince myself I'm dying from some dreadful disease. As the hours go past I reach that delicious sense of detachment. I no longer give a damn. I'm too tired to care about dying.
11. I'm a little rough with people but then I was ever so!
12.  I get my sons names mixed up. But since I now also call my grandchildren by my son’s names they have stopped correcting me. I'm obviously no longer in correction phase but have moved into a stage worthy of pity.
13.  I hate a cluttered home and want everything in its place. The tidiness is inversely proportional to my completely chaotic mental state.
14.  I can pick arguments at the drop of a hat but good friends love me anyway.
15.  My mum is 85 so often forgets things. Fortunately, she remembers more than I! So that cheers her up considerably.
16.  I have surprisingly little and have grown accustomed to the lightness of that load.
17.  No one befriends me because I'm rich and that's a wonderful filter to find the real gems out there.
18.  I am an odd creature, even I notice that, but thankfully have begun to call it unique instead.
19.  My father used to say he had more real friends in the next world than in this one. I reckon mine is 50-50 but I've definitely lost some of the best.
20.  Small things can upset me disproportionately. Cause pacing and stomach churning. Thankfully, I have usually forgotten them by the next day.
21.  When I read newspapers I can no longer find news, just nonsense. When did reality and what they tell us diverge so completely?

Summary

Have I learnt anything from life so far? 

We have a tendency to worry about what we shouldn't 

and to ignore what we need to be doing. 

So worry less and do more!