Rambling Randomly.

So, here I am. The medical people have given me the green light to carry on living, for the time being at least, and now I’m ready to take up the old blog again. Only I haven’t got anything to talk about. Isn’t it always the way?

I thought of talking about the letter I sent to the Home Secretary this afternoon, but decided it was a matter between me, the Home Secretary, and my new-found resolution to be a better person. Besides, having made the effort to write the letter, I couldn’t be bothered to write a blog post about it as well. And then there was the matter of the names of the two African women who were the subject of said missive. They were African names and consequently difficult to spell. Having struggled over them once, I think that should be enough.

Maybe I should talk about tipping instead – the kind of tipping where you give money to waiting staff in restaurants and suchlike in recognition of their service (apart from in America, of course, where I gather it forms the major part of their remuneration no matter what the standard of service. But let’s not talk about America where the value system, and cultural mores generally, are something of a mind-boggling mystery to most of the rest of the world. And who am I to judge?)

I disagree with tipping. I think it should be banned. Why? Read on if you can be bothered.

Tipping gives waiting staff a reason to be nice to you, but they shouldn’t need one. They should be nice to people because being nice is a nice way to be. So if a waiter or waitress is nice to you, you don’t know whether it’s because he or she is a nice person, or because they want you to give them some extra money to bolster their wages. And that makes the question of authenticity obscure. I like authenticity; in fact, I value it greatly. And that’s why I disagree with tipping.

In the unlikely event that anybody agrees with me, don’t worry about it. You’re just as sane as I am.

And pudding tonight was what it usually is – a thick piece of buttered toast with a liberal spreading of jam (or sometimes marmalade.) It’s a lot cheaper than trifle and you don’t have to worry about the Use By date.

(Actually, I’m still waiting for somebody to make me a baked Alaska. I’ve been waiting all my life and time is running out.)