Wednesday, 10 June 2020

Winning the Ism Battle.

Here we go again – eight days without a post and the excuse is the same as usual: the pressure of dire prospects sits on my shoulders like an overweight sack of coal, and the result is a kind of depressed inertia which isn’t conducive to free communication.

Aside

I’ve suffered a propensity for anxiety all my life. I’m sure it isn’t the psychological condition known as General Anxiety Disorder because my anxiety usually needs a trigger to set it off. I have had a few bouts of GAD over the past few years, but only rarely. It’s just that I’ve always had the sort of mind which is constantly looking forward, and when prospects look grim I get anxious, and when I get anxious I get very anxious because I feel things deeply. Is that so unusual? I’ve no idea, but what I have found is that the only thing which alleviates anxiety is to allow myself to descend into depression. Anxiety is a hot emotion, you see, whereas depression is cold, so what better way to treat a fever than to sink into cold water? That’s the rationale and it works, even though it’s only replacing one unpleasant frame of mind with another. I find that depression is the lesser of the two evils. But to continue…

One of the pressures eased today, only temporarily but at least it turned down the heat a bit. So why don’t I make a little post by way of celebration? OK.

*  *  *

While I was in Sainsbury’s today I found myself approaching the end of an aisle where another aisle crossed at right angles. Walking towards the same junction from my right was an attractive young woman, and since we were on a collision course I naturally halted and deferred to her right of way. ‘After you,’ I said.

Aside

‘Naturally?’ you might ask, ‘why naturally?’ Well, we English males are conditioned from birth to defer to the female in matters of right of way, or at least those of my generation were. We hold doors open for them, too. And if I were seated on a crowded train or bus I would feel strongly inclined to give up my seat to a woman just because it seems the right thing to do. Only I don’t these days, of course, because women these days don’t like it (pregnant and elderly women excepted.) ‘Why are you giving up your seat for me?’ they ask through gritted teeth. ‘Do you think me weak and feeble because I’m a woman? That’s sexist.’ And so it is; I can’t deny that it is; I bear the fact in mind every time I feel the old compulsion coming on. But to continue…

The young woman stopped at the same time I did. ‘After you,’ she said. A state of impasse was duly achieved and we looked at each other for several long seconds, during which time it occurred to me that, given my status as what is euphemistically called a ‘senior’, her inclination to insist on me having right of way was probably influenced by the fact. Isn’t that ageist? I think it probably is.

Aside

How I wish she’d said ‘After you. Age before beauty’ so I could have replied ‘No, after you. Pearls before swine.’ (Thank you so much for that line, Dorothy. My admiration for it has never waned, nor shall it.) But she didn’t. Life was low on opportunity today. But to continue…

Eventually she blinked first and walked past me, and so it appears the day was mine on this occasion. I followed at a respectful distance so as to maintain at least the regulation social distancing imperative which has become so ingrained now that I wonder whether we will ever talk to somebody face to face in a normal voice again.

But then I kept encountering her all the way around the store, and every time I did she stared at me. I assumed she was consumed with the desire to re-light the fires of conflict and gain sweet revenge (because the other rational alternative – that she was thinking ‘how can somebody as young and attractive as me find a man as old and repulsive as him compelling enough to want to fall into his arms on the pretence of a maidenly swoon – isn’t very likely, is it?) I even got directed to the same checkout as her. (One is directed to checkouts in Sainsbury’s these days, in some cases by assistants old enough to remember the days when policemen were required to direct traffic with hand signals at busy junctions. I expect the memory comes in useful.) And so she had another opportunity to stare at me, which she accepted, albeit in silence. And I never saw her again.

*  *  *

And that’s about all I have to say by way of a blog post. And do bear in mind that the pressures will return and weigh heavy again before long, and then I expect another hiatus will ensue. Please consider checking every so often. One day it will all be over, one way or another.

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