77

I think that symmetry is overrated.

Odd socks. Unmatching curtains - on the same window.

76

Isn't it a nuisance that, after you've gone and got something and finished using it, sooner or later you have to go through all the effort of putting it away again?

75

Tip: start from a base of deep pessimism, and then savour all the little positives. And sometimes some large ones too.

74

Haggis.

73

Fruit salad, goulash, croissants, crisps, mars bars, birthday cake, soup, sweet and sour, curly-wurlies, rice, neapolitan ice cream, macaroni cheese, yorkshire puddings, stew, pork scratchings, ploughman's lunch, angel delight, cherry pie, porridge.

72

Life is often tragic, horribly painful. When it isn't, it can be arduous and frustrating, or at least banal.

And yet it has its pleasures.

Like love. A lovely lady (or gentleman) shimmering their light into your being, coursing through your veins and transforming your world into beautiful poetry with their magical soft glow.

And puns. 'I've come about the job inserting polyfilla into this bit of fence.' 'I'm sorry, sir, the post has already been filled.'

Some of these pleasures are rare and precious. Others are actually rather common and regular. Like sleep. Sleep's good. And food. Let us give thanks for food. These days it's so easily available that one can take it for granted. But I think you can enjoy it more if you think of it as a reward for carrying on with all this difficult business. Think of all the lovely food you'll miss out on if you top yourself. Chicken curry, spaghetti bolognese, potatoes in their jackets, tuna, apples, cheese and tomato sandwiches, prawns, rhubarb crumble, peas, toast, muesli, frosties, veggieburger with cheesy chips, pears, lentils, bread and butter pudding, lasagne, courgettes.

Yes indeed, let's hear a large round of applause for food.

Tip: don't eat too much, though - it might make you fat.

71

[reference points: Noakes, Purves, Singleton/Judd; Pertwee/Baker]

We are the children of Harold Wilson. And Edward Heath, and Mike Yarwood. And Morecambe and Wise. And Banana Splits and Magpie and Sweet and Gary Glitter and Gilbert O'Sullivan and The Partridge Family and Jimmy Saville and Tony Blackburn and Dave Lee Travis and The Good Life and The Goodies and Tomorrow's World and Nationwide and Animal Magic and Jackanoary.

(Then along came punk rock, and Thatcher and Grange Hill, and I got my coat.)

Recently I walked past a statue of Harold Wilson. I felt like an orphan, lost in a future without bearings, my time relegated to history.

All those adults, they were such fixtures. I don't really believe that half of them are dead now.

And what have we made of their world? A weird science fiction future, much more dystopia than utopia I think. Humanity lives on, despite, rather than through, contemporary culture. (Arguably.)

No, they have the stronger reality. They haven't departed, we've departed from them. They're all up there, I'm sure. In the afterlife it's 1973 every year.

Recently I walked past a statue of Harold Wilson. Wish me luck, Harold, and be seeing you.