Doing in Real Life what we do on Facebook

Yes, I am on Facebook and Twitter and I do enjoy social media, for the most part at least. Sometimes though, as I scroll through the posts, I find myself asking why someone would make public on social media what they had eaten for tea, or post wedding pictures of people you don't know, or something not really worth the effort of posting.

If, in real life, you were to leave the comfort of your sofa and actually walk down the street, accosting people to show or tell them what you had eaten for tea or to show them wedding photos of someone they didn't know, their reaction would be one of confusion and perhaps it would include a bid to walk on by a little faster than is normal. As they were walking away, and you might have to shout this, you could tell them what you plan to eat tomorrow and how you have felt today, including the rudeness of the shopkeeper, bus driver or your boss and how you feel about life in general.

Then you would catch up with them and show them pictures of your beautiful dog, your parents and your aunt Kate. Also you could show them your children as babies, toddlers, teenagers and the rest of their lives. You could show them pictures in your garden of you hanging out washing, talking to your neighbour and doing what everybody else does most days.

You could then stand next to people who are engaged in conversation and give them a thumbs up. to let them know that you approve of their exchange of words. You could then make them really happy by sharing their conversation with other people.

It would work, I think. You would also gain followers. These followers would be a police officer, a psychiatrist and a concerned friend.

Does Having Children Make You Happy?

I've often wondered what the answer to this question is. I have three children  - well they are no longer children. They are, in fact,  31, 29 and 25. Despite their ages, their childhoods seem such a short time ago. And I miss them. I miss my little children. I am also mightily proud of them and enjoy their company. But, I am confused now as to what my role is. It is inappropriate to tell them off in the way I did when they were children. They are adults. They have their own views, which, despite my being their mother, do not always coincide with mine. And why should they? They are their own people and can and do think for themselves. So, I suppose my role now is to be a kind of critical friend. I will tell them what I think if and only if, I believe that what they are thinking of doing is not for their own good.

I worry about them. They are staggered by this and a little annoyed, I sense.   They ask what I worry about and they tell me, when they hear my answers, that I am catastrophizing in my usual over-dramatic way. I cant help it though. My main worry is that they will be out late one night, a bit the worse for wear,  and will be attacked. One of my children lives in London, one in Manchester and the other in Sheffield, where  I live. These are all big cities and the chances of terrorist attacks are greater in densely populated areas. So I worry.

A philosopher once said that you can only be as happy as your unhappiest child. What wisdom! What a fundamental truth. When children are young you can meddle, you can interfere in their lives and you can put things right. When children are grown you cannot have their middle aged mother barging in and telling bosses, friends or whoever to stop doing whatever it is they are doing that is upsetting your 'child.'

A survey showed that once the excitement and euphoria of the birth is over, then there is no difference in the happiness stakes between those who have children and those who remain childfree. Very interesting. This result does not say whether or not those who are childfree are so by choice. Maybe they were included and maybe people become reconciled to their lives without children, even if they had originally wanted them. Those people would be richer, have more time and more than likely, worry free. Or not. Worrying is part and parcel of life whether or not you have children to worry about. Childfree people will no doubt worry about other things.

Family days out, in my experience are not the happiest moments. In fact, I can remember some horrific days out. Cross words, shouting - being sick, getting the 'face on' eating the rubbish on sale at Theme Parks and the like. And a lot of money spent on the misery. The best times are the ones that are unplanned. It's a moment of coming together, laughing at the same thing, an enjoyable conversation, or a moment of understanding.

So, to address the initial question, and I can only speak for myself, I know that if I had not had children, happiness, for me, would be hard to come by.

Horrors of the Office Lunch

If you work from home, go home for lunch, or go to a café each day for lunch, you are one of the fortunate and blessed ones who do not have to withstand the most irritating aspect of working in an office or staffroom and having to put up with people eating their lunch.at their desks.

One of the worst types of lunch takers are in fact those who have nothing at all. That's fine, their choice. BUT. Instead of eating they talk. They talk about why they're not having lunch, what they would have had if they were not so determined to lose about a stone, then they proceed to comment on other people's lunches. This is particularly galling, especially when they take the moral high ground. One non-luncher takes it upon herself to point out the calorific value of what people are eating. It goes something like this. 'You might be surprised to learn that even in a Muller light yogurt there are 99 calories, which, if you think about it, is almost 2 weightwatchers points. If you're on 19 points a day like I am then that leaves only 17 points for the rest of the day. What's that I see Sue? Cake? Well you enjoy it, though you might find you'll feel tired this afternoon as the sugar rush crashes. Salad for you tonight, I'll bet! Oh and is that bread, Phil? Naughty, naughty! Rather too much you've got there if you don't mind my saying. It bloats you, you know and as it's white bread there's not much nutritional value in it. It is tempting though - I should know. When I was pregnant with my first, all I wanted was doorstep like slices of white bread lathered in butter. Do you know,  I'm making myself hungry now just thinking about it. In fact, I might just nip out to the shop and buy a Mars bar, They're much smaller now, you know. And even if I am using up 4 points, it will be worth it.' As she leaves, the relief is palpable.

The quinoa eater is clearly out to impress. This luncher is restrained, worships at the alter of self-denial and tells us how her husband made it for her. Her perfect husband and perfect children are mentioned often. They don't believe in shouting, they discuss matters at pre-arranged family meetings. I couldn't have been happier when someone enquired, albeit tongue in cheek, how Ezra's cello lessons were going, only to discover that he would not be progressing with that instrument after a 'hiccup' at grade 6. A little more digging revealed that he had failed the exam. 'We don't mention the world failure in our home.' Nor, apparently do they mention sugar, ever, at all. 'We have quite simply turned it into an offensive word.'

The yogurt pot scraper is highly irritating. Every little last bit - the spoon scraping on the plastic in a bid to capture every tiny scrap remaining. It is yogurt, not gold dust! I think I'd rather have the dripping tap torture than the yogurt pot scraping torture.

Since we installed a microwave, staff have been bringing all manner of foods for lunch. Perhaps the worst of these is the left over curry eater. The smell lingers easily until the next day. Tuna hangs round too - and is unfortunately eaten by at least two people each lunchtime. Tuna bake, tuna toastie even, as we now have also acquired  a toaster. Nobody has owned up to putting the tuna in the bread then into the toaster as yet, but I strongly suspect someone This person ranted just a little too long to be innocent of the crime.

One very slim and active guy buys chips for lunch - every day. He has his own bottle of vinegar in his filing cabinet. The comments, daily, are almost identical. It seems that anyone eating chips must be commented upon. 'I don't know how you get away with it, You don't know how lucky you are. Having some chips with your vinegar are you? Ooh, they smell lovely! I only have to look at a chip and I put on half a stone.'

Most people bring their lunch in a plastic box. Some use tin foil. Others just use some sort of grease proof paper. The immediate post-lunch activities are also irritating, as well as the declarations people seem to feel obliged to make. 'If that was lunch, I've had it' is one such. Dramatic screwing up of paper, tin foil, whatever it is, is often  followed by a shot at the bin; a shot which, nine times out of ten, misses, and is followed by a groan. The plastic box lunchers seem to spend a disproportionate length of time fitting back the lids, clicking all four corners back into place - a sound almost as irritating as the yogurt pot scraper.  

By far the majority of these people are good, intelligent people who care about education and helping those in our classes to achieve their full potential. They work hard and they also care about their colleagues, showing sensitivity and awareness. Just not at lunchtime.