Tag: rubbish

Guest Post: 7 Reasons The Holiday Season Sucks

If you’re feeling really festive, we mean really festive, then today’s guest post from Louise Tillotson probably isn’t the kind of thing you wanted to read over your lunch break. On the other hand, though, if you bat for Team Scrooge this is the kind of thing you’ll want to read and share and read and share and read and share… (repeat to fade).

I like Christmas as much as the next person. Provided that person is, in fact, Scrooge. Bah humbug and all that…

But honestly, I do enjoy the festive period to an extent. The act of going out in the cold, wrapped up warmly, spending my hard-earned savings on things I don’t have to find space for in my already cluttered home is, to me, one of the joys of Christmas.

When you’re a grown-up, Christmas does kind of lose its appeal. But when you have kids of your own and see it through their eyes, it seems magical all over again.

Sadly, what those little eyes don’t see are the niggly little annoyances that now seem to ruin the season just that little bit more each year. I’m talking about…

1. Christmas Cards. Every year we send flimsy bits of cardboard with awful pictures on them to people we never see or speak to throughout the year. And every year we get flimsy bits of cardboard with awful pictures on them given to us which we then have to display in our homes in case the giver happens to drop by. Which is unlikely seeing as we haven’t seen or spoken to them all year…

2. The Weather. Do a Google image search for ‘Christmas’ and you immediately get thousands of pictures containing snow-covered cottages, trees festooned with lights, and jolly-looking snowmen made out of the purest white snow. Now look out of your window. See the grey slush laying forlornly in the gutter, the crumpled lump of grey and yellow matter with a single carrot poking out at an odd angle, the few dimly lit bulbs hanging on for dear life to a wilting bush…Doesn’t the sight just fill your heart with winter joy? No, I didn’t think so.

3. Strange Bearded Men. I am of course referring to Santa Claus, Father Christmas or whatever you call him in your family. There’s just something vaguely creepy about taking your beloved little one to sit on the knee of a strange man and confide in him all their secret wishes for the season. Or more realistically; start to cry hysterically, scream for mummy and wet themselves.

4. Cold Food. Maybe it was just the way my mother cooked it, but I always think of Christmas dinner as being a lot of cold stuff covered with thick gravy. There’s obviously an art to getting four types of vegetable, three types of potato, turkey and stuffing to the same hot temperature at the same time…and my mother never mastered it. Our turkey dinners always consisted of freezing cold meat, red hot gravy and tepid everything else. Which probably wouldn’t be so bad but the turkey is always far too large and you end up having it with every meal for a week afterwards.

5. Mandatory Alcohol. And when I say alcohol I don’t mean the tasty stuff that you’d choose to drink if you were at the pub. I’m talking about stuff like Babycham, the “wine” parents buy when they want to get their offspring amusingly drunk; and Advocaat, which looks like runny custard and smells like it’s been drunk already. And woe betide you if you don’t want to drink – you’ll have a glass of this cheap plonk out of a box and damn well enjoy it!

6. Decorations. I don’t mind what people have inside their homes, as I don’t have to look at it. I’m talking about the stuff people decorate the outside of their homes with. As far as I can tell, there are two rules every outside decorator thinks they must obey: the lights must be the brightest you can find, and if they don’t flash and/or cause a hazardous distraction to drivers, you’ve not used enough. For preference, you should also create your own Nativity/Farm/North Pole with brightly lit animal structures too, for that added tackiness.

7. Presents. Last but not least, we come to the gifts. Your granny is probably delegated to trot out the old adage “giving is better than receiving” but honestly, I think it’s true. Only by not receiving gifts can we avoid having to pretend to love the hideous pair of socks a lazy uncle has bought you, or the bath salts which you just know will make you smell like the inside of a pensioner’s handbag. There’s only so long you can wear a fake smile and feign delightedness so as not to offend your well-meaning but utterly clueless relatives.

December 13, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Glastonbury Sucks

This week Luke Glassford has taken the 7 Reasons sofa to a field far, far away. Luke is the chief music writer for music news and review site, All-Noise.co.uk and has been to Glastonbury more times than he would ever admit.

Yes people, it’s that time of year again – festival season! When everyone suddenly becomes a super-cool, shades-and-wellies wearing fashionista and likes to prattle on about how much of a ‘proper music’ fan they are. Right in the middle of this hyped-up, giddy season of festivals is Glastonbury – the biggest, oldest and oh-so coolest of all the summer festivals. And here’s 7 reasons why it sucks!

1. Travel. The first ‘festival’ thing you will do is make your way to the festival site. Like going on holiday, this is always the best bit. Except, unlike your holiday, the journey will come to an abrupt end about 50 miles away from your destination because of massive, soul-draining, spirit-crushing tailbacks. And if you think the 7 hours of stop-start traffic on the way there is bad, just wait until you leave on Monday morning – when you’re tired, dirty and in absolutely no mood to be queuing up for hours just to get out the car park!

2. Toilets. Where there’s lots of people, there’s lots of poo. It’s just a fact of life. At festivals, toilets become stinking, disgusting cess pits which make you more aware of everyone else’s bodily functions than ever. This also makes you much more aware of your own bodily functions and you will, at one point, have this conversation with yourself: “Right, I’m front and centre at the Pyramid stage and my favourite bands on in 10 minutes – God I love Glasto. Oh, hold on, do I need a wee? Maybe, but I should be able to hold it. No, I’ve thought about it now, it’ll only get worse. Ill have to go find the toilets. But how am I going to find my way back to this great spot? The queue will be massive too – I’ll probably miss half the gig. Well I can’t hold it for 2 hours now so Ill have to go, lose my friends and lose my great spot to go stand in a toilet queue for an hour. God I hate Glasto!”

3. Camping. Everyone ‘lucky’ enough to be going to Glastonbury needs to ask themselves: “When did I last go camping?” and “Why have I not been since then?” The answers will probably be: “Ages ago” and “Because it was crap”. Now picture that crap camping experience at that picturesque location with the shower block. Now picture an overcrowded field with tents and guide-ropes pointed in a myriad of angles, trapping you in a cess pit of drunken louts and annoying, squealing teenagers – that’s Glastonbury!

4. Weather. Yes we’re British so we have to moan about the weather. But no-one likes rain when they’re trying to enjoy themselves. Eating fast-food and drinking lager is no fun whatsoever when it’s raining. It’s also no fun when it makes a quick trip to The Other Stage a tiring ordeal made all the worse by the fact all you can do when you get there is stand ankle deep in mud and get rained on. And what do you do next? Why, go back to your flooded tent of course!

5. Expense. It’s not only the fact it costs so much. It’s more the rigmarole you go through for the privilege of just getting the chance to pay for a ticket. Filling out a massive, intrusive form will get your foot in the door. Then you have to get a ticket. Sitting in your dressing gown for 4 hours with your laptop on, pressing ‘refresh’ every 10 seconds while hitting redial on your phone. At 9am. On a bloody Sunday!

6. Other People. No matter what fun activity you do in your life, one factor will always ruin it – other people. They get in the way, push in in queues, throw cups of wee all over the audience and generally annoy you.

7. U2. Just when you think Glastonbury couldn’t get any more suckier, they wheel out your mum’s favourite ‘rock’ band for an opening night smug-fest on the Pyramid Stage. There’s not much more to say to justify this point except – if you’re looking forward to seeing U2 then you probably deserve all the horrible, soul-destroying stuff that is going to happen to you over the weekend!

Obviously, this is quite a pessimistic view of Glastonbury and there is fun to be had – so we look forward to a follow-up here on 7reasons.org called something like “7 Reasons Why Glastonbury Rocked!!!” (If you can think of 7 things that is!)

June 25, 2011
7 Reasons That Bins Shouldn’t Have Passports

Terrible news, 7 Reasons readers. According to the UK’s Identity and Passport Service, 10,000 passports per year are thrown in bins. Probably. This – if their apparently baseless supposition – is to be believed, is an awful development. At 7 Reasons we are firmly object to bins with passports and are wholly opposed to the internationally travelling bin. Here are eight reasons why.*

1. Relationships. We don’t have wholly idyllic relationships with our bins, it has to be said. They’re generally old, ugly and a bit smelly. That aside, they don’t seem to have any great expectations of us and are generally quite happy to take any old rubbish from us (except glass, paper, cardboard, plastics, aluminium, more glass and compostables). If our bins had passports and were suddenly free to leave, we would miss them, and our gardens would probably look like this, assuming that they don’t already. In fact, hoping to god that they don’t already.

2. The Bins Might Go Somewhere Nice. Possibly Nice. Or Marseilles. And why wouldn’t bins want to go to somewhere exotic? This could lead to the world’s most popular beauty spots looking something like this.**

3. Postcards. People are rubbish at writing postcards. They’re usually bland, dull, slapdash affairs that convey little. Who’s to believe that bins would make a better job of it?

4. Bin-men. And what about bin-men? They become apoplectic with rage and petulantly start hurling rubbish and bin lids about if our bins are three feet away from where they expect to find them, let alone if they’re nine thousand miles to the left of the back gate gambling in Las Vegas or hiking in Peru. They’d be livid if they had to cross an ocean to fetch them.

I started searching Google Images for pictures of angry bin-men, then a bout of existential despair overtook me and I started looking for other, happier images. Please imagine an angry bin-man. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult.

5. Air travel. Airports will be even more hellish – if this is at all possible – if bins travel internationally. The queues at check-in and at Wetherspoon’s will be swelled by their ranks, and as for security…

Just a couple of bins at the metal detectors could cause this.

6. Mystery. And what if all the bins left Blackpool? How long would it be before anyone noticed? Years, probably.

7. Terrorism. If bins had their own passports, it could be possible for fugitives to secrete themselves within them and use them as international transportation. That could have all sorts of consequences. Could we see sights like this?

Osama Laden Bin!

7 Reasons will return tomorrow before going on holiday again for a few days. We will not be taking our bins.

*No, of course not. Only a fool would expect anything other than seven.

**Half of the 7 Reasons team thinks that Paris already looks like this.

April 27, 2011
7 Reasons to Embrace Junk Mail

Junk mail. No one likes it, but there are valid reasons to embrace it. We don’t mean give it a cuddle, that would be weird; we mean accept and enjoy it, because there are – fortunately for us – almost seven reasons to.

Junk Mail (Image courtesy of Stop Junk Mail)*

1. Wanted. There is something very comforting about the sound of your letter box opening and something dropping onto the floor. It makes you feel wanted and loved. If it’s a bill then it’s good to know British Gas care that you are still alive and if it’s junk mail – probably from the local estate agent asking you if you would like to consider selling your house to a family of five who have just moved to the area – well it’s good to know that they think you are friendly. You know, the kind of person who would consider moving for a family of five. The estate agents wouldn’t put the same letter through Lord Sugar’s letter box would they? No. Because he has evil in his eyes. And a guard dog.

2. New Experiences. One of the most regular pieces of junk mail that adorns house mats all over the country are those from local (and not so local) take-away restaurants. Whether it’s Indian, Chinese, Taiwanese, Bangladeshi, Italian or Chav, what a great way to start experiencing a different culture. It might only take you one chicken dansak to decide that you want to go and experience India for itself or it might only take one late pizza delivery by a teenager who calls you ‘boss’ to make you decide you are living in the wrong part of town.

3. Pens. They say that you can never have too many pens. And fortunately, charities have challenged this age-old assumption by providing them to us free of charge to us via the medium of junk mail. And it turns out that you can have too many pens. I write stuff every day, in fact you’re reading it now. I write far more than the average person and rarely use a pen. I require one pen, for the purpose of writing down random notes that I can’t read later on and eventually turn into paper aeroplanes. Fortunately though, there is an alternate use for all of the pens that charities send to me at a loss. I use them as legs for my four-legged (and six-legged) potato animals. I clearly have too many pens. And potatoes.

4. Rubbish. To be embraced heavily are those charity bags that get stuck in your letter box. You know, those that the charities ask you to fill with old and unwanted clothes. Well, if you do manage to remove them from the letter box without ripping them, they make brilliant bin bags. Don’t go walking down the street swinging one around in the breeze though, you’ll become a prime chugger target. You’ll get chugged. In a chugging.

5. Baldness. We don’t know everything about the 7 Reasons readership. The 7 Reasons team both have hair, and we imagine that our readers do too. But there may be some who are afflicted with baldness. And, if there should be such people reading, they might learn from this use of junk-mail. Because back – way back – in history, in a time almost lost to human memory there was once a thing, a sort of a big flaming ball of heat and light that dwelt in the sky. Some cultures worshipped it, some feared it, and it had many names. Here, it was known as the sun. And, in those far-gone days, when it lit up the sky, it was a menace to the follicularly challenged who lacked the natural protection from its rays that the rest of us take for granted. But with junk-mail there’s always a free emergency hat lying on their doormat, waiting to be origamied. Just in case the great orb in the sky should ever reappear, as unlikely as that seems.

6. Love. If this isn’t enough to satisfy your junk mail habit, then the final option is to create a junk mail-mache person. Then you can really embrace it if you are that way inclined. Or a pervert as it is more commonly known. Just make sure they are dry first.*

7. Lifestyle. As a guide to living, junk mail is invaluable. Want to know what not to eat or drink? All of that information is conveniently posted unsolicited through your letterbox. Whether it’s takeaways, highly dubious drinks delivery services, or the offers at your local branch of Londis. If a picture of something (these things are always pictorial) comes through your letterbox, then it’s disgusting and common and bad for you. Yet surprisingly tempting when drunk; which is how they get you, by the way. They expect you to read them when you’re lying face-down on your own doormat having just made it home from a big night out; when your guard is down. Why else would they put them there? Bastards.

*Because wet perverts are the worst kind.

You can also use it to make one of these!

*If you can’t find the love to embrace junk mail, check out Stop Junk Mail here.

December 10, 2010
We’ve Moved!

It’s Sunday, so no reasons today. Here’s something different. Last week we brought you a tale of horror and woe, and this week we bring you…a tale of horror and woe, because we have an announcement:

We’ve moved! You may not have noticed yet, but we have. We’ve moved from Gloucestershire to Kent. Strange, the website doesn’t look any different, you’re probably thinking; I can’t see any oast-houses or Dover Castle or France, but I promise you that we’ve moved. We’ve changed our web-hosts from Fasthosts to EZPZ hosting.

And we hope the new web-hosts that we’ve moved to will provide you, the reader and us, the men who have spent many, many, many of the hours that they should have spent writing in the last year trying to get answers from Fasthosts about why our website wasn’t being hosted effectively, with a more reliable experience. As our experience with Fasthosts has been appalling.

In fact, we started monitoring our site’s uptime over the past few weeks, and it turns out that with Fasthosts, our site was working less than 99% of the time. Imagine if you had a car that wasn’t there 1% of the time when you came to use it. Or your house wasn’t there for over three and a half days out of the year, but you didn’t know when that would be, or that the sun vanished intermittently.

And it’s not just that the site would disappear while we were trying to read it; it would also disappear while we were trying to write it, which resulted in an awful lot of lost work. In fact, I’ve found myself spending a lot of time that I should have spent creating stuff and writing for the website monitoring its performance and corresponding with the web hosts.

As a result of the many support tickets that we have raised and the many questions we have asked them in the past year, Fasthosts have properly investigated our downtime twice. And they’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t a problem at their end and that it must be our fault, which is strange as, since we’ve moved the website, it has been working for 100% of the time. Which rather undermines their claims.

It’s not just technical incompetence. A couple of days ago – we disabled the auto-renew facility some time ago – they tried to take money from my credit card to pay for web hosting for the coming year (something they didn’t have permission to do). Fortunately, they have the details of an old card and it didn’t go through.

Anyway, we’ve moved and we wanted our experiences with Fasthosts to have a home on the internet so that anyone thinking of using them and perhaps googling “Should I switch to Fasthosts”, “Are Fasthosts any good” or, “naked web hosting” (people search for almost everything pre-fixed by the word naked) would find this piece and would be forewarned.

Hopefully now, the 7 Reasons team will have less correspondence like this:

Jon,

I fully intended to forward any response on why we’re down to you. But, other than the initial automated (and pointless) response to our first email from Shithosts, there has been none. Nor have they replied to us via Twitter. This is on their webshite:

Websites hosted on 88.208.252.193 will currently be unavailable. Our engineers are investigating.

Update: 8:35: Our engineers have found the cause of the issue. However, it is likely that a resolution will require a server rebuild. We will restore all data from a recent backup and will update this page when further information and a completion time become available. Please accept our apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused.

This issue is presently under investigation:

Our ip address is 88.208.252.3:21so whether this applies to us is a mystery to me, I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything/they bother to reply/I turn up at their offices in Gloucester brandishing a weapon,

Marc.

P.S. Makes me really glad I spent 8 hours working on today’s post now.

P.P.S. Do you have backups of all of the posts that you uploaded yesterday?

P.P.P.S. We were on course to have one of our best Mondays ever yesterday. Before our site disappeared.

And more correspondence like this:

Jon,

The website is working fine. It’s nice here in Kent. Look, I can see deer strolling through the meadow next to the tiramisu farm. Would you like some beer from the perpetual fountain?

Marc.

In conclusion: If you are looking for web hosting. Never, ever use Fasthosts. They’re no good at web hosting, their customer service is woeful, they can’t be trusted with your credit card details and they’re expensive (our new hosting is almost two and a half times cheaper).

7 Reasons (.org) will return tomorrow; I can state with utter confidence.

November 7, 2010
7 Reasons That Carrier Bags are Baffling

The carrier bag might seem like a rudimentary bit of kit. Basic, functional, easy to understand. But it isn’t. Carrier bags are, in fact, among the most baffling things known to humankind. And by humankind, I mean me. Here are seven reasons why:

1. Because I Have Hands. People in shops are endlessly, needlessly trying to force carrier bags on me. But I don’t want one most of the time. Often, I’m just buying one or two items. And I don’t need a carrier bag in that circumstance. How many hands does it take to carry a single item? One. How many hands does it take to carry a bag containing a single item? One. So I don’t need a bloody bag, do I? It’s not difficult. And I already have a bag; it’s that thing I’m wearing over my shoulder that looks like a bag. But despite having both hands and bags, I am continually pestered to take the things. And I don’t know why.

2. Because They’re Everywhere. I always try not to take carrier bags, but despite this, my kitchen is full of the things. And every time I go in there, there are more of them. I don’t know how – or when – the rise of the bags began, but they are inexorably usurping our cooking space. We started off, like everyone does, with a bag of bags, and now we have at least a bag of bag of bag of bag of bags. Well, more than one, actually.

3. Because I Don’t Know What To Do With The Things. You might think this is the point where I’m going to make a few humorous and bizarre speculations on what one might do with a glut of carrier bags, but no, I’m not going to do that. This is because I’m totally bewildered and overwhelmed by my surfeit of them. I have no more idea of what to do with all the bags in the kitchen than I would have of what to do with a large, glittery, singing horse called Jemima in my dining room. Less, in fact. Or fewer?

4. Because Of Chavs. It seems that the only people that have any idea of what to do with used carrier bags are chavs. They put them over the seats of their rusty mountain bikes and tie them down to the seat-post. All of them do this. But I have no idea why. It’s not to keep their bottoms dry because they never remove the bag; even after rain. It’s a further level of bafflement.

5. Because They’re Not In The Same Condition I Left Them In. Occasionally, a rare and wondrous event occurs: I realise that I’m going to have to carry some presents to a friend’s house, or I’m going for a walk in the countryside and there might be blackberries to pick, and I find that I will actually need a carrier bag. And then I excitedly perform a brief, joyous dance – a bit like a jig – while singing repeatedly “I’m going to get rid of a bag, I’m going to get rid of a bag…” to the tune of A Life on the Ocean Wave. But when I come to use them, I discover that at least 50% of the bags are torn. But they weren’t torn when I put them into the bag of bag of bag of bag of bag of bags. So what the hell has happened to them in the meantime? Do they fight?

6. Because People Lie About Them. It’s not just that they’re all over my kitchen, mocking and taunting me, and confounding my every attempt to get rid of them that I find them baffling. It’s that people actively lie to us about the things. Don’t use carrier bags, environmentalists tell us; it’s wasteful; a lot of resources are used up in their manufacture; they don’t grow on trees. But this just isn’t true. Carrier bags do grow on trees. I’ve seen them. Just go outside and look at any urban tree and you’ll see the carrier bags growing on it. And we’re obviously using far fewer carrier bags than the trees are producing, because we’re not harvesting them with any regularity. That’s why there’s still a Woolworths bag growing in a tree near my house. Even though they went bust bloody ages ago.

7. Because Of The Holes. We all know why there’s a hole at the top of the bag. It’s to punish people that are stupid enough to try to put baguettes into them. But no one knows why there are holes at the bottom. Are they drainage holes? Is it a government conspiracy to prevent us from moving water about easily? Is it to prevent suffocation of animals, small children and Members of Parliament? Is it to stop me from inflating the things and then bursting them (with hilarious consequences)? Is it just to confuse us? Well, if it is, it’s working.

October 12, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons That Recycling Is Rubbish

It’s fair to say that the 7 Reasons Sofa Tour of The United States (Manchester, Scotland and rainy streets) is well and truly over now. While we have enjoyed our foray over the Atlantic (Pennines, border and road) in the past month or so, there is nothing quite like being at home. Taking over sofa duties today is Richard O’Hagan, who, apart from being a fanatical environmentalist (if this post is to be believed) writes about stuff for The Memory Blog, the Daily Mail and Cricket With Balls. You can follow him on Twitter and get directions to his house here. Over to you Richard.

Don’t get me wrong here, recycling is a good thing. At least for the next couple of generations. After which time we’ll have recycled everything so many times that no-one will really care any more, because everyone will have forgotten how to make anything new anyway. No, what I really object to is my local council saying that I have to recycle stuff, then only collecting half of the stuff they tell you to recycle.

1. Rubbish In Car. The council have dustcarts to take the rubbish away. Recycling is still rubbish. Why the hell am I having to put it in my car and drive it to the recycling point. It’s bad enough that you are using me to do the job you should be doing, do you have to take my vehicle as well?

2. Colour Blindness. They insist that I divide my glass into clear, green and brown. Apparently you can never cross the streams and mix green with brown. But I am colour blind. I can no more tell green from brown than I can give birth. Which means that 2/3 of my trip is entirely pointless. No, more than that, because where’s the bin for this blue vodka bottle? Or this yellow lemon juice one?

3. Wasps. What do wasps like most? Sticky, sweet stuff? Like, maybe, the fermenting dregs of booze in a bottle bank? Yes, at this time of year, going to the bottle bank – if you can work out which bin to put which bottle in – is like visiting a giant wasps nest. So now I have a smelly car, am worried that I might be putting stuff in the wrong bins, and am now risking death by wasp sting.

4. Foil. The council also insist that I recycle foil. But only clean foil. Which is completely useless, because I need the clean foil I have to put over stuff that I am cooking with. The whole point of foil, in fact, is that it gets dirty. And have you every tried to wash the stuff? It is like trying to wash custard skin. So now I have to choose the lesser of two evils and recycle less-than-clean-foil. Which leads to

5. Dirty Hands. Dustmen get given gloves. If the council want me to do their job, surely they should give me gloves. So not only do I get confused and stung by doing the recycling, I also have dirty hands. Although my car is also dirty.

6. Boxes. And then there is the cardboard box problem. To get the cardboard boxes to the recycling, you need to put them in something. Such as a bigger cardboard box. Which you then put into a bigger cardboard box. And then a bigger cardboard box. Until you end up with a box so big, it won’t go through the stupidly small, letterbox-like, slot they have put in the cardboard container. So you leave it on the ground, along with the boxes left by everyone else who had the same problem, because

7. Mountains. The council don’t believe in emptying the recycling until there is a mountain of cardboard that even Sir Chris Bonington would baulk at. Which means I’ve got dirty, my car has got dirty, and I have been stung and confused, simply to create a small version of the very big rubbish tip I still suspect the council of carting the whole lot off to anyway. Pah. Recycling is rubbish.

September 4, 2010
7 Reasons I Am Rubbish At Origami

7 Reasons I Am Rubbish At Origami

July 28, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons That Birthdays Are Rubbish

It’s Saturday, and joining us on the 7 Reasons sofa this week is the brilliant and wise – though not old in the slightest – Sarah Ayub. Not old, got that. Not old.

1. Another Year Older. Oh great, another year has passed. I mean, who really wants to be reminded of yet another year when you didn’t get round to doing all the things you were planning to do? I know I don’t, in fact most days I refuse to acknowledge that I’m no longer eighteen. Especially depressing for me this year was the realisation I was moving into the next age bracket, and I’m now grouped with people nearly ten years older than me.

2. Secrets. It might just be me, but when colleagues start talking in hushed tones as you approach, the paranoia begins to set in. It’s bad enough worrying what people think of you without the added whispers and giggles.

3. Indecision. I’m a very indecisive person. Deciding whether to drink tea or coffee first thing in the morning takes me long enough, so just imagine how long it takes to decide what to do for my birthday. Every year I start off thinking big and yet, by the time my birthday rolls around, I’m lucky if I’m having a family dinner and a slice of cake. I used to play it by ear and see where the day took me, but have since realised that these things must be planned well in advance. If I don’t, I’ve found that well meaning friends and family take it upon themselves to arrange something for me, and that is never good.

4. Surprises. “Woah, woah, bad idea. Surprise parties are hostile, they’re dark. People jump out and scream at you, they never come to any good.” – Dr Mark Sloan

There’s a wise man, if ever there was one. If you are thinking of throwing someone a surprise party please remember Dr Sloan’s words and decide against it. As someone who has been thrown a number of surprise birthday parties I can say, with authority, that he is correct. Just think: Do you really want to make the birthday girl cry? And I don’t mean tears of joy.

In case you were wondering it’s the Dr Mark Sloan on the left, and not the right. Although I’m sure if you were to ask Diagnosis Murder’s Dr Sloan about surprise parties, he would give exactly the same answer.

5. Teddy Bears. I realise that teddy bears are cute; I’m just not a fan. However, over the years, I seem to have accumulated quite a few, and as they were given as gifts I can’t bring myself to give them away. The clutter is bad enough but, even worse, it makes people think that you want another to add to your collection. Please, no more.

The one cuddly toy I actually bought myself – Skipper

6. Letdown. Even if you do accept that you’re getting older, survive the surprise party and receive amazing gifts, birthdays are never as good as you think they will be. A lot like New Years Eve, I find them to be a bit of a letdown.

7. Molly Ringwald. Well, at least no one forgot …

May 15, 2010