A healthy dose of fatalism is good for you

Nancy, my mother, drummed into me a set of lower middle-class rules, the origins and the validity of which remain, a lifetime later, lost to comprehension.

- DICK DURHAM

Yet still I stick by them: I never stack plates when eating out; I never refer to a napkin as a serviette; I never utter the phrase ‘Pleased to meet you,’ instead of ‘How do you do?’ upon fresh introductions.

And having been introduced I never – with professionals – bring my own concerns to their attention. Until now.

Ma told me lawyers should not be plagued with leylandii debates; architects with failed planning issues and – grossest of all – dentists with a gaping maw and a forefinger pointing at a rogue molar.

Later in life I got to know how they feel. There’s nothing makes my heart sink deeper than hearing the cry: ‘I’ve got a story for you.’ I don’t even bother smiling benignly anymore as the would-be reporter regales me with a speculative non sequitur, received third hand for which he has zero evidence.