Second Helpings

The Moaning of Life

We've just returned from the supermarket run and I notice the silly season is well on its way. Witch's costumes, pumpkins, fireworks and Santa suits for dogs are just a few of the items I try not to notice, but fail. Why does it have to be in your face as soon as summer has moved on?

Along with the shops, the television programmes are also starting to lead up to my unfavorite time of year and I dread the arrival of the advertisements and jingles. Reality shows are kicking off, albeit interrupted by the Rugby World Cup which is hardly my idea of alternative viewing. In desperation we've been watching reruns of one of our favourite obscure programmes entitled The Moaning of Life. I'm delighted to see a new series of it starts this week, but am quite happy to watch repeats for the moment.

The star of the show is Karl Pilkington; a down to earth, grumpy cynic who thinks outside the box. Just my sort of person. He travels the world investigating customs and attitudes towards different facts of life, including cuisine, marriage and death. Last week it was the episode about birth and I confess I sniggered and giggled at his wry observations and divergent thoughts.

Karl himself has decided he doesn't want any children, which I consider a shame as the world could do with more intelligent and thinking people. But I respect and empathise with his reasoning. In part of his dialogue he observes we as humans don't seem to have much purpose in life any more. Other species are essential to the ecology of the world and are busy pollinating and balancing out the world of nature, whereas we just seem to cause chaos, destruction and pain. Without the complicated and crazy world we have created what would our purpose be?

He concluded we have no real role in things and that's why frisbees were invented.

In my fifteenth year of retirement I can empathise with not really having a purpose. What is the meaning of retirement anyway? When we reheat, reread, revisit, recall or recycle things it means we're doing them again and not for the first time. Does that mean when we are retired we are having another go at being tired? It often feels that way. Lately it seems to be one long session of shopping, preparing, cooking, eating and digesting food. The treadmill feeling deepens, the routines and rituals become more monotonous and the cycles turn ever faster. And here we are at the start of another manic season yet again.

Maybe I should invest in a frisbee.