Aniseed Balls

The word declutter  is an unnecessary chimera, formed with unsavoury etymological coarseness, but the idea it expresses has merit. I’ve started in a small way in the study, discarding items I will never need like cardboard boxes saved up for a rainy day, and even, horror of horrors, books. And, with no little trepidation, I’ve taken down my “I am normal” notice. My rational self says it wasn’t responsible for psychological equilibrium. But was it? I thought it had artistic merit; the harsh beauty of the plain brown wrapping paper, the meticulously chosen typeface representing the inherently ambiguous nature of human sanity. Could these qualities have elicited a feeling of well-being to counterbalance the inner demon? Or acted as guiding star and constant reminder to maintain the semblance of normality? Obviously I removed the little bits of Scotch tape in case they weren’t recyclable and folded the paper neatly so that it didn’t take up too much space in the green bin. So ...

Two activities I have been very involved with at different times have both in recent years been suggested as additions to the Olympic Games. With the 2016 Games upon us I have my four yearly angst over the nonsensical collection of events contested. What should the Olympics consist of? Let’s get one thing out of the way. I am not suggesting we go back to Corinthian amateurism. We are way beyond that – there are only two sports left where professionals are ineligible, and in the modern era we want to see the best competitors contesting at the highest level. So what should be included? First and foremost are events that demonstrate objective individual athletic achievement in a manifestly natural discipline: running faster, jumping further, leaping higher, throwing further. What about the specific varieties of these? Racing over 100m, 200m, 400m, 800m, 1500m etc makes sense, especially when you know that individual athletes are never the best over a wide range of these. What a...

Communal childishness As young children we say “moo-moo” and “tummy” and are enthralled by bright colours and lights. But some people never grow up: they continue to say “tummy” well into adulthood and never lose their fascination with bright lights. They marvel at Catherine wheels like a three year old. They festoon their mid-winter houses with tacky decorations in a misguided sense of tradition, slavishly following cultural conventions in a self-conscious act of communal childishness. This is a slippery slope: one minute you are a normal intelligent adult, the next you are watching Strictly Come Dancing . Shadwell Library is a testament to community spirit. The council would have closed it but for the concerted determination of many villagers and for the continuing effort of many more volunteers running the library and maintaining the building. It remains as vibrant book lender, cultural centre and delightful Grade II Listed Building in steadfast opposition to the philistines....

Some seven years ago I asked for an explanation of the expression used by tennis commentators, “ making the opponent play one more shot ”, and set a challenge to explain how we might measure the idea. As predicted, no one met that challenge, though someone did note ironically that making an opponent play one more shot isn’t as good as making them play no more shots. That particular idiotic expression isn’t used much any more – commentators are on to a different idiotic expression: “backing oneself to succeed”. Occasionally this is used as a tired metaphor for being very confident, but my complaint concerns its use in tennis and especially cricket to describe what a player has just done on court or at the wicket. It is used approvingly in an attempt to explain and justify a play resulting in a winning shot or a boundary. But as with the other aforementioned idiom, it explains nothing. All we have is hindsight: it worked on that occasion. There is no attempt to assess whether the play ...

They built a seat for weary feet, Upon the Isle of Lundy. They built a path, they built a cafe. Sic transit gloria mundi.

It won’t have escaped your notice that UK banking is in a sorry state. My personal experience of domestic banks over the last forty years is that they are singularly incompetent at everything they do. I won’t bore you with a catalogue of woes, but I will share my latest experience with you. My partner and I have a joint mortgage with Halifax. The other day we received a letter as follows:    Dear Mr Dobson & Miss Jordan That’s it! That is the entire letter. See the scanned image. The only manipulation I’ve done is to blur out our postal address.

I am strongly in favour of maintaining legalized abortions in the UK. There is no doubt in my mind that Government plans to change abortion advice services are the result of lobbying from anti-abortion campaigners. I suspect this stems from the first TV ads by Marie Stopes last year, which received over 1000 complaints to the advertising watchdog. All of the complaints were rejected. It is completely wrongheaded to imagine that women seek abortion advice because of moral ambiguity. What they want and need is medical information about the procedure and risks, and unbiased counselling about the personal benefits and alternatives. What they do not need is religious doctrine dressed up as personal advice. If I want to know the psychological risks of amputation, then the first person I would ask would be the surgeon and the last person would be the priest. (For that matter the psychiatrist would be pretty far down the list as well.) Nobody is in any doubt about what happens to a foetus...