ANiceDayOff

After having some “twilight” anesthetic administered to me yesterday there was no way I could write anything at all. You might sigh in appreciation of this fact, but to me this discipline is addictive. You can feel guilty if you don’t do what feels right.

My grandfather, who was a tailor’s presser, had to work, so did my father, originally an engineer, and latterly a businessman and wonderful film producer. I don’t mean they needed the money they earned; I mean that they needed to work for its own sake.

I used to think my father worked too hard. My father thought his father worked like a donkey without common sense. Even when my father had become very successful and wanted to help my grandfather take it easier in his old age the older man was virtually unable to do so.

Personally I had always thought they were both silly and anyone should be able to relax, especially when you were a little older and the blood didn’t run so hot. I had thought of writing nothing today, as I’m entitled to do, but then I decided I should write a blog about nothing. Then fate intervened.

I received a telephone call from a friend saying those words so irresistible to a writer, “I love your blog!” I am congenitally unable to resist the siren call when phrased in such an appealing manner. Immediately my reluctance to write and tiredness dissipated like snow in the Sahara. So here we are, ready to write and with a subject in mind.

This will be brief, I promise, and concerns people complaining without justification. So many people gripe at their fate when circumstances get a little tough that you cease listening to them.

Getting back to my grandfather, his answer to anyone’s question regarding how he was he met with the response, “Mustn’t grumble.” He meant exactly what he said. No one ever heard the tough little Polish man grumble and it didn’t matter what the world threw at him. The only time I ever saw him show weakness was when he faced me to explain that his wife, our precious Nana Dora, had passed away.

It wasn’t what he said, as he stood framed by the light coming into our hallway, it was seeing his proud face crumple that made me understand he was about to impart earth shattering news.

Today too many people complain that they’re having it tough at the first whiff of trouble. It’s miserable when the credit crunch bites, but it is not yet the end of the world. Compare it to the Great Depression or African people starving in the sub Saharan dust. It’s tough, dangerous and worrying that our soldiers are facing evil and trying circumstances in Iraq and Afghanistan, but it is nothing to the deprivation, danger and duration of the major wars faced by previous generations.

As I’ve written previously in these columns most of us are still in the midst of the most prosperous, peaceful and least hostile period in our entire history. Instead of complaining all the time, let’s enjoy the moment.

I admit to being a donkey much like all my ancestors, but at least what I do is a great deal easier than some of the tough jobs they endured. Adapting the words of Dick Cheney to my circumstances; the hours are good and the job involves no heavy lifting.

By the way, the small surgical procedure went off without a hitch. I shall, as the medics say, be able to buy a long-playing record with every expectation of hearing the last track.