How do you cope with the stressful periods in your life? With a bit of time on the clock, I’ve had a couple of times in my life where I wrestled with stress and its unhappy consequences. And I don’t mean the normal everyday stresses that family, work and community life throw at us on a regular basis.
Ever feel like there’s just not enough minutes in the day? Who hasn’t? It seems that busyness has become the new norm. For some even a badge of honour.
“Just not enough minutes in the day!” – declared with a proud smile, a shrug of the shoulders and shake of the head. “I’ve just been so busy!” The words slip off the tongue as easily as a mindless “How are you?” It’s expected.
What happens if you’re in the middle of Auckland with its 60-plus ethnicities and want just a sip, not a bottle of water?
Linguistic confusion. It’s born out of the locals taking their lingo for granted – and new arrivals interpreting what they say, just a little too literally.
I’ve always struggled to understand economics, which means I have a bit of cheek embarking on a view of the economics of the western world. Still, in my possibly naive view there are simple rules. Take Alzheimers for instance. By taking daily exercise, eating healthy food and maintaining mental and social stimulation, there is a good chance of avoiding Alzheimers. Similar rules apply for avoiding type 2 diabetes and heart disease, and probably many other diseases that swoop in when the rules are ignored.
There are plenty of things worse than the occasional soft drink. Like Islamic State, or athlete’s foot, or genital warts. Shouldn’t we tax these things first, before we attack those delicious and very reasonably-priced soft drinks that bring such joy to the lives of our beloved children?
Balham, London, 1961. I was twenty and my fiancé eighteen when we decided to get married. London was my fiancé’s home town. Being young and in love we discounted obstacles, the first being my girlfriend’s mother, who was not impressed by the idea. Not only was I from a northern tribe with a Liverpool accent, I was a labourer. We never did become pals but we learned to tolerate each other.
You’ve wanted to paint for years – but always filed it away as a nice thought, one that can wait until say… you were older? Until you realise you’re already there. And once you’ve declared your interest in the craft to an old friend over coffee, you’ve already painted yourself into a corner, because friends being friends, listen.