‘So, Billy from Bury,’ host Ali Greind beams, her smile as bright as the North Star. ‘What’s your decision? Take a chance and try whatever is under there,’ she points a slender finger at the stainless-steel dome concealing whatever lies beneath. ‘And open that door, or will you pass, and close it?’
‘Open the door!’ shouts one half of the audience.
‘Shut it!’ yells the rest.
Billy chews on a finger nail, a pained expression on his face as he peers at the silver dome. ‘Hmm, I don’t know. It could be something horrible.’
‘Or it could be something nice,’ Ali counters, the perfect smile never leaving her face.
‘Nah,’ Billy shakes his head. ‘I ain’t risking it. Close the door.’
Some members of the audience cheer, others groan as the door slams decisively shut.
‘That’s a shame,’ Ali’s smile turns upside down as she lifts the silver dome to reveal an octopus tentacle. ‘You’ve just passed on the chance to win an all-expenses-paid-holiday to Crete.’
Not listening
On Saturday, I stood behind a man at my pharmacy, trying not to look as though I was eavesdropping, which I was. He wanted to replace his nasal spray.
‘How long have you been using this?’ the pharmacist asked, holding up the little box.
‘Hmm,’ the man mumbled, clearly trying to decide whether to tell the truth or not. ‘Two weeks,’ he finally admitted, prompting the raising of an eyebrow from the pharmacist.
She explained it wasn’t recommended anyone use the spray for more than five days. To do so might cause rather than alleviate congestion. She recommended he try a seawater-based spray instead. The man was not for budging. Despite being told his spray probably caused the continued blockage, his response was, ‘I’ll just give this one another try,’ choosing to ignore both advice and the exasperated expression on the pharmacist’s face.
Slam!
I know what I like
Many years ago, during a visit to La Laguna on Tenerife with Andy’s stepmother, we ordered toasted sandwiches at a café. Instead of taking our order, the waiter lectured us on picking what we’d eat in Britain, recommending arepas (Venezuelan filled cornbread) instead. Andy and I took his advice, while Andy’s stepmum stuck with the toastie. The arepas were a revelation, and became our go-to street food. However, when the waiter toddled off, Andy’s stepmum was furious. ‘That was stupid. You shouldn’t have let him talk you into having something you didn’t want. I wouldn’t.’
Slam!
Proud of not doing things
I noticed this after Game of Thrones became popular. Any mention of it on the socials attracted some comments like ‘Not seen it and have absolutely no interest in doing so.’ We didn’t watch GoT until my sister sent us the first series. It was on about its third series by that point and had even been on Spanish TV. But it wasn’t the type of show we normally watched. By the end of the first episode, we were hooked. It’s not the first time we’ve been late to the party; The West Wing is another example. When both critics and the public in general rave about a TV programme, it’s got to be worth a look. After GoT, I noticed a trend on the socials of people commenting on newspaper articles about things they publicly declared they had no interest in and, what’s more, wouldn’t be doing, watching, reading, or visiting. Every time I see one of these, I think, ‘You’re so not-interested you’ve gone out of your way to track down articles about it.’ It’s like it is a virtue to not do something.
Slam!
Stuck in a genre
I’ve learned a lot from the writers’ website Jericho Writers, but I’ve hardly visited the site for a year. The reason is, it’s too focussed on genre writing. Many people have favourite genres when it comes to reading. I’ll dip in and out of genres, but I prefer books that don’t fall into specific ones. Literary is the umbrella term generally used, but it’s often misleading as it can sound a tad highbrow even though it’s mainly applied because so many books don’t neatly fit anywhere else. Personal preference when it comes to reading is one thing, but when they dominate a site aimed at authors whose work covers a wide spectrum, it becomes problematic. I was surprised when some mentors, whose role is to provide advice to other writers, declared they had no interest in literary books.
Slam!
Perennial Blockers
Back in the day, there was rarely a night in the pub that didn’t involve a heated discussion about something. Often, differing opinions provided food for thought. When the debate was over, we moved onto another topic with no lingering hard feelings. The world has changed. On a social media platform, someone thanked me for not blocking them after they left a comment slightly disagreeing with something I’d written. Why would I block someone because they held a different view? How do we learn if we don’t listen to people with alternative opinions? I mean well-thought-out ones, not just some brain-washed numptie spouting from some script they’ve seen on Facebook. There are plenty of folk who do hit that block button at any sign of dissension.
Slam!
Back to Billy from Bury
‘What have I won?’ Billy asks, hopefully.
‘Won, Billy?’ Ali can’t keep the bemused tone out of her voice. ‘Look behind you.’ She turns and waves a hand back along the virtual corridor they’ve just walked along. ‘You chose to close every door rather than take a chance and walk through any. Surely you don’t expect to be rewarded with glittering prizes by taking that approach?’
‘It’s not fair,’ Billy moaned. ‘People like me never have any luck.’
