The Ten Commandments: wise counsel?

In the long grey winter months, it’s easy to be negative and hard to act cheery, but just as you are what you eat, so too you feel what you focus on. Choose to change your focus.

You can’t really argue with the Ten Commandments. I mean, as rules for happy and harmonious living go, they’re a pretty solid base: don’t kill; don’t cheat on your spouse; don’t steal; don’t lie. So far, I’m on board. Have a day of rest every week. Yep! Take care of your parents. Absolutely. Without wishing to labour the point, I don’t think many people would take exception to any of the above, whatever their religious leanings. Sadly, however, I have often felt that one commandment was missing.

Don’t get me wrong. Ten is a great figure – it’s even, pleasingly round, fits with our decimal currency, can be nicely spaced out into two five-item lists on a couple of handy stone tablets. I can totally see why Moses would get to the end of dictation, see a nice symmetrical pair of lists, and casually decide to leave commandment Number 11 at the top of the hill, but honestly, I really think he dropped the ball. Our lives would be infinitely more pleasant had he just added one last rule to the list:

Thou Shalt Not Whine

The addition of those four little words to that fateful list would have made such a difference, wouldn’t it? Whining is perhaps one of the least attractive traits in a person, and is certainly one of the most draining. I have an acquaintance – let’s call her Wendy – who, whenever I ask the innocent question, “How are you?” replies with some permutation of, “Oh, I’m so tired. Yep, really shattered – I worked until 10 o’ clock every evening last week. It’s just crazy.”

When I first knew Wendy I made the mistake of trying to help her with this apparent problem – suggesting she speak to her boss about her workload, asking whether she was eating properly, that sort of thing. Recently, however, I had an epiphany (I don’t know why I’m on such a religious theme today, I’m on a roll and I’m just going with it). I realised that Wendy isn’t actually asking for help, nor does she need to talk. The bottom line is: Wendy likes whining. And she particularly likes whining about being tired.

You Feel What You Focus On

I don’t actually know anyone who isn’t tired right now. In the bleak midwinter, it’s dark when you go to work, dark when you leave work. You’re trying to lose the Christmas bulge, keep that resolution to go to the gym, maybe even give up or cut down on something – cigarettes, chocolate, wine…

The post-Christmas winter months can feel grim at times, and yes, they’re tiring. But does saying you’re tired all the time help at all? If, every time someone asks me how I’m doing I answer, “Crikey, this rain is getting me down, I just can’t seem to get warm, and I have a splitting headache”, all I can think of by the end of the day is the rain and the cold and the headache and, lo and behold, it’s all actually worse than at the beginning of the day.

But if I reply, “I’m great, thanks! Looking forward to a quiet night in, that’s for sure”, miraculously, I can actually convince myself that I do indeed feel full of beans, and that quiet night has become a choice I’m making in order to take care of myself. I find that I feel what I talk about; which means that I don’t also choose to talk about what I feel.

We're ALL tired and a bit stressed now!

Accentuate The Positive

Now, I’m not suggesting we bottle up our feelings or lie, but unless mentioning aches, pains, gripes and groans will actually do some good, why go on about them? Now, whenever I see Wendy, I avoid asking how she is and instead pose very specific, fact-based questions: What did you do this weekend? Did you go jogging like you wanted?

It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that not only does Wendy’s whining about being knackered exacerbate her own tiredness, it also exhausts me! If only she could take her focus off the negatives she’s feeling and concentrate on something – anything – positive, that good feeling would be increased instead of the bad.

The mind is like a magnifying glass – whatever we choose put under the lens is what our eyes will see enlarged; whatever feeling we choose to talk and think about is what we’ll feel magnified. Luckily, we get to pick what we train our lens on. So, it’s precisely when I’m tired and a bit hungry and maybe a little paranoid that I try hardest to remember to apply the 11th commandment and silently order myself not to whine.

Are you defined by your nine to five?

‘So, what do you do?’ It’s usually the first question we ask a new person when we meet them. It’s socially acceptable small talk and usually helps to spark a conversation. It’s more interesting than talking about the weather, more appropriate than launching into an interrogation about their personal life, and (usually) a safe option.

But if it’s the first thing we find out about a person, does that mean we form our judgement of them based on that answer? How important is somebody’s career in defining who they are as a person? Of course, it usually depends on who you ask. Some people feel that their career is their life, while others feel no attachment to their role at all, and view their nine to five simply as something they have to do to fund their five to nine.

Perhaps it comes down to a question of vocation versus paying the bills: for some people, their job is simply a means to an end, whilst for others, their job is an end in itself. This difference may depend on the role, rather than the person. Doctors, policemen, teachers: these are, generally speaking, the kind of roles that seem to extend beyond a career choice and into a lifestyle. Sarah, a 24-year old teacher, says that, although she definitely feels there is more to her life than teaching: ‘I think I am a constant teacher – I now find myself thinking about the way young cousins or friends children access the world, how I would support them to learn certain skills… The way I look at life in general is hugely influenced by my training and my career – not just other children I come into contact with, but a lot of my life choices are based on pedagogical factors that came on board during my teacher training.’

It’s true that people who take on certain careers may experience a certain amount of pressure to fulfill their roles even outside the workplace. As Sarah explained, a teacher may find that they are always teaching in some way or another. A doctor would be unlikely to walk past an injured person in the street without offering medical assistance, and a police officer is unlikely to ignore a crime just because they are off duty. This kind of social responsibility doesn’t always extend to other roles. I work as an editor and proofreader, and although I frequently spot misspellings and grammatical errors on signs in public places, I don’t feel any kind of duty to correct these errors (although, if they are particularly amusing, I may be tempted to take a photo).

If you feel that your job is something that you wish to be defined by, you may take a great deal of pleasure in telling people: ‘I am a writer,’ or ‘I work in fashion.’ But if it’s something that you do to pay the rent, it isn’t always something you want to share. Laura, who works as a PA in London, says: ‘I dislike how in this day and age if you aren’t in a ‘career’ type job people assume you aren’t interesting/driven/intelligent. And I find that so interesting because the best people I know, the most engaging and unique people, define themselves through what they do outside of the work place…. For me, I realize that the job I would actually love to do is sort of unachievable at the moment. And sometimes it proves you are more dedicated to make time for what you really care about in your own time. I do dislike telling people I’m a PA because you do get that ‘Oh, you’re stuck in a dead-end job’ look, but the fact is that that salary allows me to do all sorts of interesting things in my free time.’

A career with a sense of purpose?

So although many people thrive on their career and feel strongly defined by what they do, there are just as many out there who see their nine to five as something rather dull: perhaps even as something they dislike. With the jobs market moving more slowly than ever, plenty of us are stuck in roles we don’t really want, hoping that something better will come up.

If you fall into the first category, and feel your career is worthwhile and something that defines you, then you should feel free to warmly congratulate yourself on discovering a job that means something to you. If you fall into the second category, however, it shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of. Your job doesn’t have to mean everything. You don’t have to be defined by the desk you sit at, the salary you earn, or the room you spend 40 hours a week in. There are 128 other hours in the week to account for. And, as 25-year old electrician Joe points out: ‘I enjoy my job, but I’d much rather not be working. Even if I had the greatest job in the world I’m sure I’d rather be free to choose what I want to do with my day.’

So, next time somebody turns to you and asks: ‘So, what do you do?’ why not give them a smile, and reply: ‘What, between nine and five, or five and nine?’

Jealousy: got the green-eyed monster?

Of all negative emotions, jealousy is unequivocally the most toxic. Unlike anger, which does eventually blunt however searing in intensity to begin with, jealousy tends to compound over time. It can drive us to distraction, provoke obsessive behaviour, destroy relationships and erode our self-esteem… But it’s little short of masochism.

Where envy – which is similar – refers to the feeling of coveting something someone else has, jealousy cranks up the heat; it’s the presentation of hot resentment towards another in response to something they’ve acquired or achieved for which the jealous person firmly believes – rationally or, moreover, not – they are more deserving. Jealousy is a ‘second emotion’. Second emotions are symptomatic of ‘primary emotions’; that is to say, there’s actually a foundation negative (fear, for example) that presents as something else, and it’s because of this that second emotions are often referred to as irrational. But the critical thing that frequently underlies jealousy is insecurity or the self-imposed perception of inferiority: a catty remark about a beautiful girl or an undermining comment to a senior colleague about a peer in the workplace, for example.

Why and what for? Using the aforementioned examples, let’s break it down:

● On the surface, any attempt to undermine (or embarrass if you’re brazen enough to do it to their face) another in such a way is a reflex method to pitch oneself above them to other people. This is jealousy in its most basic form.

● Dig a little deeper and you’ll find that such comment or behaviour is in fact a quick fix method (albeit quite a futile one) of convincing oneself of one’s own self-worth, attractiveness or capabilities in other areas.

● Dig further still and the driver, simply speaking, is quite obvious: girl A snipes an unnecessary aside to an unwitting audience about girl B because girl B promotes girl A’s feelings of insecurity. It might be looks related, skills, talent, love life – whatever.

● But the bottom line is that girl A fears abandonment or loss of respect (or attention) from others in favour of girl B, who she perceives to be better than her. The Catch 22 is that she could well be making her own bed for abandonment by demonstrating hostile behaviour – no one really enjoys hanging out with bitchy people after all.

It’s true that some people are more prone to jealousy than others for the simple reason that some are more secure or confident in themselves than others. However, even the most self-assured people aren’t immune to the odd wave of green eye. Here are a few important points to bear in mind if ever you feel the caustic surge of jealousy encroaching:

● Remember that more often than not, feelings of jealousy actually rise out of relative ignorance: it’s often levelled at individuals we actually don’t know that well, if at all, or at an event we weren’t involved in. A simple and universal example of this is Facebook and its propensity toward glamorising the context of photos of friends or wall comments that drip through the newsfeed.

● With the relative ignorance aspect in mind, it’s very usually the case that in getting to know the person we’re jealous of (or on hearing about the party we weren’t invited to), all our prejudices are rendered impotent. Think about this: are you really, truly jealous of anyone you call a good friend? No? There you go. If you are, you’re clearly not all that close or your relationship isn’t particularly healthy to start with.

● It’s entirely possible to catch jealousy early on and temper it. Bear in mind that it’s a pretty rapacious emotion that can escalate quickly and promote obsessive behaviour or thoughts. If you find yourself squeezed by it, make every attempt to rationalise your mindset and, if possible, let go of any incriminating thoughts to concentrate on the positives in your life. A very good exercise is to ask yourself this; do you really want to be the person / people you’re jealous of? They’re human like you too, and more than likely have their fair share of grumbles, problems and insecurities.

● Finally, as with all negatives, put a positive skew on it. Where it’s not healthy to dwell on your feelings of jealousy, recognising how you feel from an objective vantage point is. Evaluate what’s made you feel the way you do, and what you can do to change it. Basically speaking, regard feelings of jealousy as a ‘signpost’ or a motivator to get on and get ahead: that could mean starting a project you’ve been ruminating over for a while, revising your image, getting going with a fitness routine, allotting time to concentrate on promoting your business, taking the initiative in asking someone out on a date or throwing a party – anything at all.

Just remember that there’s always a reason for experiencing negative feelings, and that it’s impossible to saunter through life without them from time to time. But also that there’s always the opportunity to turn them into positive angles that in the long run, can work to your personal advantage and self-development if you’re open-minded and honest enough with yourself to allow them the space to do so.

Old school jealousy at its most basic: Sophia Loren and Jayne Mansfield photographed at a party in Beverly Hills in 1957...

Are we living too fast these days?

2011 has seen us tackle subjects as diverse as corruption and quarter-life crises head on; offering advice and opinions along the way; we hope that we’ve made you think a little more carefully – and take a closer look at society, and yourselves, of course! Here’s our edit of the Social Butterfly must-reads of the year.

Live Fast, Die Young?

With over-eating and excessive consumption of alcohol, we’re told that our generation is storing up countless health problems for the future – what’s the reality, asks Katie Shellard.

Alpha Females: Europe’s Power Players

Ilaria Parogni takes a look at ten European female political leaders; Women are still underrepresented and discriminated. But it is good to know that somewhere they made it to the top…

How To Be… In A Relationship

Plum Woodard shares thoughts, tips and advice on keys to the mechanics of a happy, healthy relationship.

Press, Power and Profit

As media ownership concentrates further and journalists begin to break the law in search of a scoop, how much power is too much – and what effect is it having on the Fourth Estate? Sarah Gorman considers the situation today.

RIP Masculinity?

Negotiating masculine identity has never been harder. An onslaught of new roles has led men to think about themselves on different terms, writes Charlotte Briere-Edney.

Something Rotten in the State? Corruption in European Politics

People around the world believe they are living in more corrupt societies than three years ago, a poll by Transparency International suggests. So how corrupt really are European governments? Jade Wimbledon investigates…

The Quarter-Life Crisis

Colliding with a global economic recessions and the pressures of work, relationships and money; today’s twenty-somethings are frustrated, dissatisfied and finding life a struggle… Olivia Parker considers the quarter-life crisis.

How to… Advise

Serving up advice is one of those precarious things that can either be dished out idly with disproportionate consequences, or carefully considered over and above the call of duty only to be ignored…. Plum Woodard advises on… when to advise!

Hard Maths: Downturn, Development and Women

Is seeing women as a crucial part in solving the world’s worst poverty and health traps a net positive or negative? Sandra Smiley takes a closer look at aid, women and the financial downturn.

Life: Edited

Thanks to social networks, it has never been easier to see ‘real life’ as a constantly edited process. What impact does our ability to edit life have on our actually living it, wonders Rebecca Winson.

A New Era of Journalism?

The Wikileaks cable release shook the world media scene but will it have a lasting impact? Lauren Novak looks at life after Wikileaks…

The Outcasts of Europe

Persecuted, shunned, and evicted: can there be any future hope for gypsies, Europe’s pariahs, asks Olivia Parker.

Fashion's first lady: Samantha Cameron

Married to the Government: Political Wives

Smart, highly-educated and with successful careers of their own; Charlotte Briere-Edney considers today’s first ladies.

Dissecting Cognitive Behaviour

Each year, one in four people experience mental health problems; CBT is an opportunity to explore how you view yourself and how you feel the world views you. Plum Woodard takes a good, hard look at Cognitive Behavioural Therapy.

Reporting Discrimination: The Female Foreign Correspondent

They’ve been in the news rather than making it of late; should female foreign correspondents should take a step back and just let the men do the job, asks Ilaria Parogni.

Faith in Europe: Religion and Politics in Perspective

Ilaria Parogni  looks at the struggle to find a balance between secularism and religious identity in Europe and the relationship between religion and politics.

How To… Be Confident

Katie Shellard considers how, with some simple techniques, practice and commitment, you can turn down the volume on self-doubt and crank up the confidence.

Beyond the Erasmus Exchange

There is growing concern that too many European students aren’t straying far enough from home; is education in Europe too inward-looking? What about university beyond the continent? Lauren Novak tackles the crisis besetting the Erasmus Exchange today…

All About Anger

Where we’re rarely criticised for experiencing feelings of love or feel shame for being happy, why then are we told to ‘cool down’ or ‘get a grip’ when seized by our anger? Plum Woodard sums up the pros and cons of a controversial emotion.

Faith in Europe: Constitution and Controversies

Ilaria Parogni casts a critical eye over the questions and controversies governing religion and politics across the continent today.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali: Islam, Sharia Law and Contradictions

A fierce critic of Islam, a feminist activist and the resident scholar for a right wing think tank; how does Ayaan Hirsi Ali reconcile these apparently contradictory stances? Emine Dilek interviews the inspirational lady herself.

Girls and Gangs

Youth violence in the UK is a serious problem – and even more so due to the current economic downturn. Harri Sutherland-Kay takes a look at what’s being done to tackle the gendered impact of gangs.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali talking about her book Nomad and issues in Islam today

To-do lists make for an organised life...

If life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans, it’s wise to keep a few gaps in your diary…

I am definitely one of life’s planners. I like making a list, checking it twice, then typing it up and keeping it on file. I enjoy feeling organised and like things are under control, or at least as if I’m doing everything I can to make life run smoothly. In general, I think this a quality that usually serves me well. It means I show up on time, rarely forget appointments, keep on top of paperwork, and don’t often run around like a headless chicken. Organisation and planning – within reason – are undeniably Good Things.

‘Tis the season to be organised!

In the run up to Christmas (and the beloved’s birthday, which occurs the week before), my list-making takes on gargantuan proportions. Lists of things to get, things to do before I leave for wherever I’m going, people to contact, Christmas cards to write, appointments to make for the new year… I like to have it all written down so that I’m not permanently worrying I’ve forgotten something. Writing a to-do list frees the brain for higher activities – like watching Gremlins for the tenth time and working out the exact right recipe for mulled wine.

The best laid plans of mice and men

Funnily enough though, in recent years, Christmas has also served as a reminder to me that sometimes the best things in life are the things we don’t plan. A couple of years back, I was going home to England for Christmas, travelling with an American friend who was staying with me over the holidays. (When told that she was featuring in my latest column, the aforementioned friend wanted to choose her own pseudonym. At her own request, she shall henceforth be referred to as Peggy Sue.) A few days before we were due to leave Paris, the Eurostar stopped working. It just stopped. Apparently the winter was so cold that the trains were experiencing a thermal shock as they entered the tunnel, and the engines were seizing up. At first I didn’t actually believe that we wouldn’t be able to get on a train. I kept telling an increasingly worried Peggy Sue that the Eurostar was sure to be fixed somehow and that all would go according to plan. I guess everyone can see what’s coming.

A long coach journey into night

The date of our programmed departure came and went, and we couldn’t get a seat on a train, so we ended up catching an overnight coach from Paris to London. What ensued was one of the most memorable journeys I’ve ever taken. We had a leaky roof on our coach; a woman point blank refused to swap seats to let us sit together (her prerogative, of course, but who actually refuses that sort of request?); the man next to Peggy chatted to himself the entire journey; another chap was almost left behind every time we had to get off the coach and go through customs; one passenger was actually detained… It made The Odyssey look like a trip to the seaside. All this from 9 p.m. to 7 a.m. in freezing and icy conditions. Now, I’m not going to suggest that Peg and I preferred this to whizzing under the Channel on the cosy Eurostar, but neither would I say I regret the trip. We had fits of giggles, took turns sleeping on the ferry, made up silly stories about our coach-mates. We were already friends when we left, but when we arrived, that epic night had made our bond even tighter.

Seizing the surprise

Thinking back, some of the best things that have occurred in my life indeed happened while I was busy making other plans. Like the time I intended to go to the cinema, take a walk then have an early night. Luckily I abandoned my plan when a charming chap I met while waiting for the film to start asked me to go for coffee with him. He turned out to be the love of my life.

Always seize upon those surprises...

Or the time I received a letter meant for a different Joanne Archibald offering a part in a play at university. I had made the decision not to audition for anything that term, but I phoned the director to tell her she’d got the wrong woman and ended up auditioning for and getting the lead (the other Joanne had already declined). Thanks to that role, I made friends I still cherish to this day, was given a part in another play after that one, and ended up directing something myself. Or the time I got lost in Paris, stumbled upon a volunteer bureau and ended up doing some great charity work.

Relishing the random

Planning is, for me, one of the keys to a calm, organised life; but the unexpected is always the source of the best fun. I won’t stop making lists (I suspect it’s actually an addiction, but I think it’s a pretty harmless one), but every Christmas I am now reminded to revel in whatever gets thrown at me. It’s the bumps and twists in the road that make the journey interesting. It’s the random encounters and chance events that make your life full of life rather than simply a slavish playing out of your day planner. Sometimes, as I discovered on a cold and leaky coach in Calais, it’s actually life’s hassles that prove to be the most entertaining, enriching and memorable experiences we share.

What does your status say about you?

These days, nearly everybody has a Facebook account, many of us are on Twitter, and social networking has become firmly entrenched in our everyday lives. Facebook may be a valuable tool for keeping track of events, remembering birthdays, and staying up to date with our friends, but what role does it play in our love lives?

Thanks to Facebook, it’s possible to find out all about potential partners, even before you’ve had your first date. The wonders of ‘facestalking’, as it has become known, mean that we can browse the pages of people we’re interested in, whether admiring their profile pictures or clicking through their interests to see if we’re compatible. And even when you’re well past the first date stage, Facebook makes it possible to find out far more about our partners than they may want to share. Rather than having the dreaded and often uncomfortable conversation about why their last relationship ended, we can open the ex-files on our own by browsing through their Facebook history: every photograph, every wall post, every loved-up status, is there to view.

One of the key ways social networking has changed modern relationships is Facebook’s relationship status tool. For many, changing your status has become a way of signifying the end of the ‘dating’ period and the start of the ‘relationship’. It’s a public declaration of your feelings that all your friends can view and, if they feel the need, comment on. Some people choose to hide their relationship status altogether: others declare themselves single and open to offers. Absurd US boyband Heart2Heart have recently taken the internet by storm with their so-cheesy-it-must-be-a-joke song ‘Facebook Official’, encouraging the girl of their dreams to ‘put a heart on [her] page.’

As well as opening the doors for people to make public commitments, the casual and detached nature of Facebook and Twitter make it all too easy to dabble in flirtatious banter – and easier still for your other half to find out. From finding out your partner has been ‘liking’ a few too many of someone’s photos to feeling jealous of their retweets, social networks are full of potential relationship problems. In recent years a number of celebrities have got into hot water over their online banter: Jason Manford, for example, famously disgraced himself by exchanging lewd messages with female fans over Twitter.

There’s no doubt that the advent of social networking has made all of us used to having an audience: our inner monologues have been replaced by tweets and status updates, and there is a general compulsion to over share. All too often this spills over into our love lives, making social networks a minefield of public displays of affection, from his ‘n’ hers profile pictures to excited tweets boasting about perfect dates. Isn’t it possible that things were more romantic when love was a little more private – when we penned love letters rather than ‘liking’ each other’s statuses and tweeting sweet nothings.

There are many though, who feel that the changes made to our love lives by social networks are positive. Lucy, who is in her forties, says: ‘I met my new partner online – a friend of a friend on Facebook. We both have failed marriages or relationships behind us and neither were looking for a relationship – it just happened.’ As well as opening the doors for new romance, many couples have made social networking a part of their relationship. Comedienne Caitlin Moran recently spoke of her enjoyment of watching television with her husband, while both tweeted away about what they were viewing.

It’s clear that social networks have changed our relationships to a certain extent, and it’s impossible to avoid that. They’ve altered the way we interact with our friends: perhaps it was inevitable that they would change the way we interacted with our partners, too. But when it comes to romantic dinners and first kisses, at least there’s no substitute for the real thing: at least, until someone invents an app for it.

Heart2Heart’s so-cheesy-it-must-be-a-joke song ‘Facebook Official’

Find the reasons to be cheerful now...

Get happy: give thanks now to shore up your soul for days when reasons to be cheerful seem few and far between.

My beloved, who’s a lofty and well-built 6ft1, often ribs me about my somewhat more dinky stature – I’m a whole foot shorter than him (if you’re reading this on the continent, 1m84 vs. 1m59). It’s usually stuff about me jumping to reach the higher shelves at the supermarket, or making sure I avoid puddles in the rain in case I drown. If we see a large group of children, he’ll grab my hand and tell me to keep close in case their teacher mistakes me for one of them and I get swept off to primary school. I’d always found these little jokes between us sweet and funny – until this week, when my beloved’s fears came close to reality. Cue scary music.

The day began like any other…

I was wending my way to work one morning when I spied a group of be-wellingtoned kids kicking up the fallen leaves and having what looked like a lot of fun. Now, we live in a part of Paris that has a huge quantity of trees – we’re right near a large park, and the roads around it have been decked out with foliage for aesthetic consistency – so you can imagine how big that pile of leaves was and how crisp, dry, golden and, well, inviting.

Reader, I had to. Without thinking, I was in there myself, kicking up the leaves and having a fine old time. The funny thing was, people didn’t really seem to notice – leading my beloved to comment that I simply blended in so well with the other children that nobody noticed that I was a fully grown adult. Ha ha, most amusing.

Back to school

Anyway, the point behind these ramblings is that this week, I played in the fallen leaves and loved it. In that moment, I was so happy to live where I do and was utterly filled with gratitude for the trees in our quartier, the extra five minutes I had left myself so I didn’t have to rush that morning, the stroke of luck we’d had in finding our apartment right there (another tale, another time). Maybe it was because I was behaving like a schoolgirl, but I was suddenly transported back to my secondary school assemblies, where the autumn hymn of choice was always “Autumn days”. Anyone who grew up in the UK will have come across this harvest festival classic:

Autumn days when the grass is jewelled,

And the silk inside the chestnut shell,

Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled -

All the things I love so well!

So I mustn’t forget, no I mustn’t forget -

To say a great big thank you, I mustn’t forget.

I’m a big fan of all things autumnal, and that morning ditty was always my favourite. Even as a kid, I could relate to the idea that we all have such a lot in our lives (especially in Europe and North America), that it’s essential not only to be aware that we have a lot but also to feel and express that joy and gratitude.

The Glad Game

In Britain, we have the harvest festival to celebrate Mother Nature’s bounty, in Canada they do it in October, and in the US this month, the hustle and bustle of life will stop for one day so that loved ones can come together and perhaps think about all the good in their lives, offering a up a silent or a spoken “thank you”. For me, the Canadian and American Thanksgiving holidays are a cue to remember how happy I am to have some dear Canadian and American friends in my life – and to write and tell them.

Take pleasure in Mother Nature's bounty

So, whether it’s because of the blatant indoctrination practiced by my school in making me sing that hymn every autumn or because of friends scattered across the globe, this time of year I’m reminded more than ever of all I have to be glad about (I truly think Pollyanna had the right idea). There are so many little things that can easily be forgotten, but that shouldn’t be taken for granted. Admittedly, it’s hard to feel glad on cold, rainy days when the bus is late and you drop your new phone in a puddle, yet that’s precisely when you most need to remember your abundant blessings. That’s why it’s crucial to make that list – mentally or on paper – on days when life is a cruise ship rather than a destroyer. I’m starting right now, with both the big things and the small – in no particular order.

● I’m thankful for the EU – without it my life in Paris would be harder, or perhaps would never have been possible.

● I’m grateful I don’t have any allergies.

● Gizmo, from the film Gremlins.

● I thank God every day for my beloved – there are no words.

● I’m thankful that I have loving and supportive parents, to whom I owe everything.

● Alain de Botton, Jasper Fforde, Jane Austen and Richard Carlson.

● I’m really glad I managed to stop biting my nails.

● French cheeses – say no more.

● I’m so grateful for my cherished friends – every one of them nourishes and teaches me.

● I’m deeply thankful that someone, at some point, invented musical theatre, and that my mum introduced me to it at an early age.

● I’m grateful for the opportunity to write this column and for the readers who enjoy it.

● Love Actually and It’s a Wonderful Life.

● I’m thankful for the autumn days, when the grass is jewelled, and their wordless reminder to say a great big thank you.

It really is a Wonderful Life…

The diary: an exercise in self-expression

I have kept diaries since I was eleven years old, chronicling the past 14 years of my life. Reading through them can be quite funny – a personal favourite is the description of my first ever kiss, at the age of 13:

‘He kissed me today. It was horrible.’

Flicking back through the pages can bring back vivid memories: some good, some awful, many mediocre – trivialities that at the time seemed overwhelmingly important.

Writing a diary every day is an exercise in self-expression: as well as recording day to day events, a diary encourages you to explore your behaviour – to consider the motives behind your actions. A journal is the narcissist’s dream: it’s all about you – and it’s all for you, so nobody can complain about it. Putting your thoughts into words can make you see things differently or discover a new perspective. Sometimes, when you see it written down, a problem which you had thought was enormous seems quite trivial. On days when your head seems too full, writing some of it down can help to bring a refreshing sense of clarity.

Diaries are also a wonderful tool for would-be writers. Writing every day helps to keep the ink flowing, and writing a diary is easy because you don’t need to think of a plot or characters: you can just focus on the words. Many famous writers are also diarists: for somebody who specialises in written self expression, a journal is vital.

Although we tend to think of diaries as being secret, there are many famous published diaries. Published diaries can shed a light on historical events, as Samuel Pepys’ journals do; or, like the touching diary of Anne Frank, they can offer a uniquely personal insight into a world we would never otherwise experience. In other cases, the publication of journals offers a ‘behind the scenes’ view of somebody who is already well known: for example Sylvia Plath, whose journals were published after her death. Although deeply personal and, at times, troubling, these diaries contain many beautiful passages, including the 17-year old Plath’s thoughts on keeping a diary:

‘As of today, I have decided to keep a diary again – just a place where I can write my thoughts and opinions when I have a moment. Somehow I have to keep and hold the rapture of being 17.’

These days, many people are choosing to take their diaries online: not just blogs, which are usually ‘public’ diaries designed for an audience, but personal, private diaries. Just a short time browsing diaries on websites like Open Diary can be surprising; many diarists share, along with deeply personal secrets, photographs of themselves and their families, personal details such as where they live and where they work, and even their full names. I read diary entries from a man conducting an extramarital affair, a 16-year old boy with an eating disorder, and an 18-year old recording in great detail the ins and outs of her latest dispute with her best friend.

Despite the growing trend for public private diaries, it seems that the handwritten journal will always be an important part of many people’s lives. They may be full of incriminating facts we would prefer to stay secret, and we might die of embarrassment if somebody else read them: but those of us who do keep a diary would struggle to give it up. A diary is a non-judgemental, forgiving friend, who is always there when you need them, and will never tell your secret.

The reaction to time spent in Spain...

Life can be the strangest thing, can’t it? Six months ago, I was fanning myself with a handful of foolscap as the Spanish sun gained more and more velocity with each spring to summer day. There I was, wearing shorts and getting brown, making plans and enjoying using a new language – I even managed to make people laugh, which I’m told is a sign one’s on their way to fluency.

But then everything changed. Quite out of the blue, circumstances about-turned drastically and life wasn’t all sunbeds and sangria (which it wasn’t really in the first place, but you know what I mean) but instead, a tall uphill struggle to get by each day. Nobody died or anything, but basically speaking, someone shuffled my set of cards while I wasn’t looking.

At the beginning of September, my boyfriend and I returned to the UK after our 18-month-long Spanish trip. It wasn’t quite the return we’d planned to make, but relief underpinned our repatriation: I for one was missing gravy and drizzle like I didn’t think it was possible to do so. And so, here we are, back in Blighty, idly forgetting all the Spanish we learned and rapidly losing any trace of the bedded-in-for-the-long-haul tans we worked so hard to develop.

After recovering from the long-haul road trip home and the inevitable roll of catch-up phone calls and coffees with faces I hadn’t seen for two years, it was time to get back into the land I call home with a half social, half networking trip to meet up with contacts I’d put on ice while I was away. This was all very jolly; people seemed genuinely pleased to see me. As one would expect, there were piles of stuff to catch up on, notes to compare and anecdotes to recount. But one thing struck me, and I don’t think I was wrong in thinking it mighty odd.

By contact four, I realised that I wasn’t being asked many questions about life abroad. Certainly not as many as I would have assaulted a homecoming friend with. “Where the hell have you been?” was the regular opener; “And what were you there for?” was the follow up, a raised eyebrow I took for impress. I gave my answers; “Spain, for 18 months!” and, “Same sort of thing as before… Experiencing the place as best I could. Oh, and I was involved in opening a bar!” And then, silence.  Accompanying the silence was a look; it’s difficult to describe in words, so I thought I’d draw it…

The eyebrows; arched and suspicious. The mouth; pursed. The jaw; clenched. The eyes; wide, piercing, horrified. Sure, I was in the Alicante region, I’d explain, but I was miles away from Benidorm. This didn’t appear to appease anyone though. And then, after a few more beats of silence, they’d change the subject entirely: “Shall we get some lunch?” or “So, what are your plans for the weekend then?” and so on.

Stumped, and a little disappointed I wasn’t being regaled home with excited questions like, “How do I say ‘f**k you’ in Spanish?”, the best acknowledgement I’d get was a solid hand on my shoulder, a wink and a, “It’s good to have you back with us.” Like I’d been in a coma or something, or diversifying as a bounty hunter or a drug mule. It was really weird.

I aired my observations to contact number eight after he asked me pertinent and enquiring questions about my Iberian experience. Ironically, I found myself mildly horrified at his interest in my time away. “I’m starting to get paranoid,” I told him. “Has something very grave happened between Spain and the UK in my absence that I’ve completely managed to miss?” He laughed at me and wiped the mirth from his eyes.

“You know it’s code, don’t you?” He said. I told him I didn’t know what he meant.

“Spain. It’s code.”

I was struggling to understand. “You. Been overseas in Spain for 18 months.” I still wasn’t grasping the point. “It’s a totally feasible sentence length. You were also involved in setting up a bar. That’s what ex cons say when they don’t want to tell anyone they’ve been doing ‘Her Majesty’s Service’.”

Time served at Her Majesty's Pleasure

So, I’d gone from demure globetrotter (sort of) to enigmatic convict. My perception of my status quo spun on its head: I was aghast, but I was also wildly excited by the strange badge of rebellious deviant I now found myself posed with, should I wish to run with it. If I wanted to, I could be a Bad Girl, just like on the telly.

And run with it I did with contact nine, you know, just to spice things up a bit. Asking polite questions, half morbidly fascinated, half terrified of me, it was clear she wanted to run for the hills. I mumbled something about Morocco, a boat, flashing lights, midnight… I then stared into the middle distance pensively like Joey Tribbiani, blew needlessly on my coffee and made a mental note to maybe join an am-dram group to get back into the swing of British community.

After a fun ten minutes or so hamming up the fake story of my last year-and-a-half, I explained I’d been pulling her leg. The silly thing was, she hadn’t given me any weird looks when I told her I’d been in Spain helping out with a bar. So when I did eventually backtrack and tell her that I’d been pulling her leg, I don’t think she believed me. It’s apparent to me now that I can be my own worst enemy.

Anyway, just to be super clear here, I have genuinely been in Spain, nothing spurious, and it was sheer coincidence that a friend of mine opened a venue into which I threw my tuppence worth. That largely consisted of dancing and helping musicians carry their equipment back to their vans after a gig, but you know… Who knew that this Spain yarn is a line deployed by jailbirds? I’ve always thought of myself as someone who knew stuff like that so, after the joy being able to communicate verbally without second-guessing everything and drowning myself in proper gravy has worn off a little, I now feel two things on returning home: 1) Not nearly as streetwise as I’d considered myself to be, and 2) bizarrely guilty for an imaginary crime I had no dealings with.

I was considering France for my next stint away. If there are any codes or false alibis associated with France, I’d be very grateful to know about them. Thank you.

Unpacking? Romantic? But of course!

Living with your other half is not sexy. It might be to begin with, the romantic first few months and weeks (or, in my case, seven hours) of cosy dinners, cuddles, and playing house. After that, it all goes to pot – literally. There will be fights about pots, forks and dirty pants. You will think about things you previously thought only dullards did, like buying milk. In time, there will be one particularly spectacular battle of wills over something trivial, an occasion so great that your grandchildren’s grandchildren will whisper about it in years to come: the legendary domestic bust-up of their forefathers that means nobody in the family ever buys plum tomatoes for fear that the ghost of the ‘Battle of the Chopped Tomatoes’ may haunt their homes.

That battle was ours, by the way – oh, see what I did there? That’s another weird thing about cohabiting; ‘mine’ becomes ‘ours’, ‘I’ becomes ‘we’ – ‘We’re on Virgin Broadband’, ‘Our sofa smells like baked beans’ – and so on, and so forth. It’s unsettling if you’re used to being independent, but it’s also inevitable, so accept it and move on. This is my first piece of advice for surviving cohabitation. Please see my fool-proof guide for my other top tips, entitled ‘How To Live With Your Partner and Not Kill Them’.

Choose your battles, carefully

If you pick a row over everything that irritates you about your partner’s living habits, you will never have sex ever again (this is a scientific fact). So, in order to prevent this sexual wilderness, choose one or two things to get annoyed about, and hold your tongue over the rest. I refuse to accept my boyfriend’s penchant for leaving tea-bags all over the flat (no, not that kind – naughty), but I can live with his thrice-daily Coco Pops habit. He hates my fondness for strewing my clothes all over the floor (quite frankly I think that’s selfish, but whatever), but doesn’t mind me leaving empty contact-lens packets in the sink. Weird compromises are the backbone of living together. That’s just the way it is.

Choose your chores, carefully

I love to cook; my boyfriend would rather eat cardboard than chop an onion. I hate making beds (I worked in a hotel as a teenager and the memory of the manager making me re-do my ‘hospital corners’ twelve times in a row still haunts me today). He doesn’t mind it – in fact, he finds arranging pillows relaxing. We both hate cleaning bathrooms, and agree that it only needs doing when his grandmother visits, or if the neighbours complain. I take care of food shopping because supermarkets make him nervous, and he does the laundry because I find it so boring it has been known to reduce me to tears. Choose your chores, and never speak of them again.

Be slightly drunk at all times

It’s much easier to forget what’s pissed you off if you’re – well, pissed. So get pissed.