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The stress-weasel sneaks in and bites my backside [Western Morning News (England)](Western Morning News (England) Via Acquire Media NewsEdge) Ever since I joined five million other British people in having my blood pressure diagnosed as being too high, I've taken the tablets and also attempted to design stress out of my life. Swallowing the pills is easy but, needless to say, ridding one's existence of tension and anxiety can be just a little bit more tricky. In general, I think I've done a pretty good job - I very rarely get up-tight about anything, partly because I really have set out my middle-aged life in a way which avoids mental pressures or worries. If I am in a hurry and suddenly find myself in a traffic jam, I shrug and think: "Why worry? This won't kill me. No one's going to sack me if I'm a bit late." If my wife tells me one of our children is having a problem - which is something she majors on doing quite often - I think: "Hang on, they've grown up now. It's best if they sort out their own personal relationships or whatever it is..." If a friend has some major issue to contend with, I will try to help or offer the best advice I can, and I will feel empathy with them - but I will not allow worry to gnaw away at the depths of my soul in the midnight hours, partly because I'm old enough now to know that it will do no one any good, least of all me. I no longer care which football team wins. I like to be respected, but am not anxious about it one way or the other. I prefer it if they do, but don't actually give a hoot if people like me or not. I expect to be embarrassing, rather than run around trying not to be. Maybe that's why people call this period of the human life "comfortable middleage". I don't know, and don't care. However, what I do know is that stress is a mercurial weasel of a beast. It will slip in, unnoticed - when you least expect it - and bite you on the backside. Here's an example: right now, before and after writing these words, I am packing a suitcase - which you'd think was an unstressful thing to do, but is very definitely not. I only have to look at the expression on my dog's face and I am undone. The most brilliant cartoonist in the world could not draw a canine expression that portrayed more in the way of profound sadness and angst. One eye seems glued to the open case - the other looks up at me and says: "No. Surely not? You cannot be serious. You cannot possibly be going to leave me. I love you so much and this... This is how you repay my loyalty? Day in, day out, you only have to look at the door and I am with you. I would do anything for you, but you..." It goes unsaid. Monty doesn't need words. A sorrowful, tragic, expression like that is capable of rendering all the dictionaries in the world useless. And so the very core of my soul is ransacked each time I approach that wretched suitcase with another item. Which brings me on to the second bite being delivered at present by that clever, sneaky, stress-weasel... In the old days I would calculate the number of days I'd be away, then chuck in the few basics necessary to equip and clothe the ever-scruffy Hesp for that period of time. Plus a toothbrush. Now more than half the suitcase is filled with gizmos - and each and every gizmo needs a charger and maybe some other device to ensure its connectivity. I'm taking two digital cameras - they need battery chargers and they need SD cards. There's a mobile phone and its charger, an iPad and its lead, the bluetooth keyboard that turns the tablet device into a usable computer, the iPod I listen to talking-books on and its lead... It is amazing how a Pounds 500 tablet device can be rendered totally and utterly useless within hours if you forget to pack the small charger lead, or the right plug to stick it into the hotel socket. Even that toothbrush is an electric one, so needs a charger. Every time I go away I forget something, which causes me grief when I reach the other end. Why do I need all this stuff ? I don't know, really. Except it is all very useful, especially when countering the worst enemy of "comfortable middle-age" - which is boredom. Wait a minute... I nearly forgot the most important things I need with all this stress going on. The damned blood pressure pills! If packing for a few days away goes on like this, I'll have to up the dose. 'The very core of my soul is ransacked each time I approach that suitcase' (c) 2014 ProQuest Information and Learning Company; All Rights Reserved. |