I caught about 14 seconds of one of those 'Should I worry about...' programmes on telly the other day. If you're not aware of them, they were made about 5 years ago and feature Richard Hammond asking various experts 'Should I worry about..." stuff like drinking too much, eating too much, punching yourself repeatedly in the face with a potato masher, that kind of thing. Ironically they never did one called 'Should I worry about the safety of BBC planned rocket powered car events' - I guess the title was just too long.
Anyway I wasn't disturbed by the programme but it did immediately set off the other worries that inhabit my brain like unwelcome drunks at a wedding reception. Always lurking there, waiting to just stumble onto the dancefloor and make a mess
I've talked before about the things in my head I struggle not to say, for fear of offending people, but these are the thoughts that just stay there and tell me to worry about the most trivial things.
I worry that the car will need new tyres everytime I drive it I worry that people don't believe I don't drink tea or coffee. I worry that the slide in standards of punctuation is in someway a crime that I only want to fight. I worry that I don't know if it's pronounced Tesco or Tescos. I worry about stupid stuff. So much so that I don't tend to worry about the big things like death, mortgages, the fact that Paddy McGuinness is considered 'an entertainer' So perhaps my little worries aren't so much to, well, worry about if they are keeping these other ones at bay.
Although saying that, I'm now worried that they aren't. And I'm worried that this blog won't ever end unless I just cut it right here and now.
Although now I'm worried I should have written more.
I'll stop now before I start worrying you'll come round and batter me to death for this type of nonsense.
No comments:
Post a Comment