An article titled "Women Like Funny Men" recently caught my eye. I have to ask: which women? Let's face it we are individuals not a herd of sex-starved creatures looking for the ultimate thing in men and laughs. I don't know how many women were surveyed, not that I think it's relevant. If you're ticking boxes and you come across the question "would you be attracted to a man who made you laugh?" I guess most of us in the "women" category would answer yes. At any rate a funny guy is better than one who makes you cry, right? That doesn't mean it's the only criteria we'd look for. I guess top of the list would be kindness, thoughtfulness, reliability, boring stuff like that which is so important in any relationship.
To get to the bottom of this interesting statistic I searched the web and found the statement "women like funny men for a fling." Really? Does this include a sleep starved mother with a six week old baby? If a guy makes her laugh she's going to have a fling with him? Where's she going to put the baby while she's doing that?
And following on from the funny guy idea, think about having the supreme joker around all the time. You'd get to hate that laugh wouldn't you? When you are collapsed in an armchair after a hard and frustrating day at the office you want someone who'll listen to your grumbling not a stand up comedy act in your living room. They should have gone for a question which goes something like "would you fall for a man who listens to you and massages your back at the same time?" Now you're talking, right?
So statistics have proven yet again that they are not to be taken completely seriously. And guys, you don't need to dash off and buy the latest joke book. Us "statistics women" like to laugh but we like to be loved, too.
Saturday 27 July 2013
Monday 15 July 2013
Mail at a Snail's Pace or Time was
Trawling through the BBC website this morning I read an article on the closure of India's telegram service. It started in 1851 and survived until last Sunday which was the last day a telegram was delivered in the country.
This got me thinking (yes, I do sometimes lol) that a lot of romance has gone forever out of everyday life.
Regular readers will know that I am a voracious reader. One of my favourite authors is Somerset Maugham, in particular his volumes of short stories set in the outposts of the Far East where those in the British colonial service spent their days. Maugham's stories are fascinating for the atmosphere of heat, sweat and isolation which they impart. It is another world, when life was slow, a world now gone forever. I am sure life was tough and people had to make the most of it (not so different from today, really, is it?). It was far from romantic in real life, and no, I am not in favour of colonialism but I am interested in people. How did these people cope? Maugham, who travelled extensively, gives us an insight into their lives. "The Club" was the centre piece of their lives. Everyone for miles around visited it and played bridge, danced or simply chatted. New arrivals brought English newspapers often several weeks or even months old but still read with interest. Visitors showed up at distant outposts on the turgid rivers of Burma bringing with them the so-called "book bag", a treasure trove for the isolated District Officer in his lonely jungle home. And the dream of returning to England kept them all going although the reality was that many who had spent most of their lives in service in the harsh climes of the Far East could not settle down in what to them had become an alien country. But that's another story.
Travelling meant getting on board a ship and spending weeks on your journey. When you embarked you boarded a train to your next destination. Travelling meant having your mail forwarded to the poste restante service of one of the old-established travel agencies. Imagine the anticipation as you collected the little bundle of envelopes waiting for you. There was time to order afternoon tea or coffee and settle down to read the news from friends and loved ones and discuss it all over a leisurely dinner with fellow travellers.
Our habit of racing through text messages or emails or trawling our Twitter account is far more stressful and far less fun in my opinion. Sure, there are times when instant communication is a blessing. I'm not knocking progress. I just feel that we've lost a bit of romance in our lives, somehow, and the cessation of the India telegram service brought this home to me this week.
This got me thinking (yes, I do sometimes lol) that a lot of romance has gone forever out of everyday life.
Regular readers will know that I am a voracious reader. One of my favourite authors is Somerset Maugham, in particular his volumes of short stories set in the outposts of the Far East where those in the British colonial service spent their days. Maugham's stories are fascinating for the atmosphere of heat, sweat and isolation which they impart. It is another world, when life was slow, a world now gone forever. I am sure life was tough and people had to make the most of it (not so different from today, really, is it?). It was far from romantic in real life, and no, I am not in favour of colonialism but I am interested in people. How did these people cope? Maugham, who travelled extensively, gives us an insight into their lives. "The Club" was the centre piece of their lives. Everyone for miles around visited it and played bridge, danced or simply chatted. New arrivals brought English newspapers often several weeks or even months old but still read with interest. Visitors showed up at distant outposts on the turgid rivers of Burma bringing with them the so-called "book bag", a treasure trove for the isolated District Officer in his lonely jungle home. And the dream of returning to England kept them all going although the reality was that many who had spent most of their lives in service in the harsh climes of the Far East could not settle down in what to them had become an alien country. But that's another story.
Travelling meant getting on board a ship and spending weeks on your journey. When you embarked you boarded a train to your next destination. Travelling meant having your mail forwarded to the poste restante service of one of the old-established travel agencies. Imagine the anticipation as you collected the little bundle of envelopes waiting for you. There was time to order afternoon tea or coffee and settle down to read the news from friends and loved ones and discuss it all over a leisurely dinner with fellow travellers.
Our habit of racing through text messages or emails or trawling our Twitter account is far more stressful and far less fun in my opinion. Sure, there are times when instant communication is a blessing. I'm not knocking progress. I just feel that we've lost a bit of romance in our lives, somehow, and the cessation of the India telegram service brought this home to me this week.
Monday 8 July 2013
Mobile Gossip
There's been a lot of kerfuffle about the cashier who refused to serve a customer until she'd stopped talking on her mobile. Having worked as one myself (cashier not mobile, don't get smart!) I must admit that my sympathies are on the side of the cashier. It's a thankless job at the best of times. You are going to tell the customer just how much they must cough up for that trolley of goodies, take the money off them and keep smiling and friendly while you do it. And all the while most of them look right through you as if you didn't exist. Their thoughts are already on driving home and cooking some of the stuff or having a cup of tea before getting started. You are just a little supermarket incident in their day - unless you make the mistake of wanting to be treated as if you were a living breathing human being.
We've all been distracted by people chatting loudly on their mobiles. Every time I get on the bus someone sitting fairly close to me is having the ultimate chat: 'yeah I'm on the bus'; 'I should be home in about 10 minutes'; 'so what did you do then?' (this at least is more intriguing even if I can't hear the other end of the conversation). I was once on the train from Sutton to Victoria Station in London and got the full extent of a landlord's problems. It seems that the tenant in Flat 1B had moved to Flat 5C and the new tenant in Flat 1B couldn't figure out how to use the washing machine. He was talking to the tenant in Flat 5C and running through the solutions with her/him. By the time we got to Victoria Station I felt I could have set up an advisory service for his tenants. At any rate I felt I could get the washing machine in Flat 1B working without too much trouble. Maeve Binchy said she often got ideas from her novels from listening to conversations on buses. This would have been a perfect plot for something like "Murder in the Cold Rinse" or 'The washing machine had me at Start'. Hmm, the possibilities are endless. Next time I'm on the bus I'll pay more attention. There's sure to be a story there somewhere.
We've all been distracted by people chatting loudly on their mobiles. Every time I get on the bus someone sitting fairly close to me is having the ultimate chat: 'yeah I'm on the bus'; 'I should be home in about 10 minutes'; 'so what did you do then?' (this at least is more intriguing even if I can't hear the other end of the conversation). I was once on the train from Sutton to Victoria Station in London and got the full extent of a landlord's problems. It seems that the tenant in Flat 1B had moved to Flat 5C and the new tenant in Flat 1B couldn't figure out how to use the washing machine. He was talking to the tenant in Flat 5C and running through the solutions with her/him. By the time we got to Victoria Station I felt I could have set up an advisory service for his tenants. At any rate I felt I could get the washing machine in Flat 1B working without too much trouble. Maeve Binchy said she often got ideas from her novels from listening to conversations on buses. This would have been a perfect plot for something like "Murder in the Cold Rinse" or 'The washing machine had me at Start'. Hmm, the possibilities are endless. Next time I'm on the bus I'll pay more attention. There's sure to be a story there somewhere.
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