Everyone’s searching for something in life, writes Iain Maciver – it’s what keeps most of us going day after day.
Maybe if I go all highfalutin this week and mention famous artists, I will get the arty set reading this column.
“If I cease searching, then, woe is me, I am lost. That is how I look at it – keep going, keep going come what may.” It was that troubled Dutch genius Vincent van Gogh who apparently wrote that at some point, when he was not taking potshots at his fellow artist Gauguin, and anyone else who was in his sights.
So, I’ve been searching a lot. They say that manners always improve the older one gets. So true. I have taken that so far that I now dress for dinner. That may be because I have been working all day in my dressing gown, but that is not the point.
With me, what I wear depends on the menu. It is not a case of deciding what to wear but what not to wear. For instance, I no longer wear white shirts when Mrs X has made a pan of tomato soup.
Neither is it just a case of my manners improving with age. It’s more that I was warned if I was that messy again, I’d be despatched to the utility room to become the full-time operator laundry assistant.
So, now, I have been searching for something extra that I must wear at dinner – a bib. It is a napkin, but not the starched linen ones you find in Stornoway’s pricier eateries. Mine is just an old dishcloth. How embarrassing.
Mensa members use their napkins
Searching online for guides to manners, I found loads. One says that the man who wears a napkin unprompted is obviously a thoughtful and loving individual who takes precautions in advance when he foresees the slightest risk to his companions’ enjoyment of their meal.
It also says that you can expect anyone who performs such a courtesy to possess greater than average intelligence. That’s definitely me. I don’t care how tatty the dishcloth is if it puts me in Mensa’s top 99%.
Like Nadhim Zahawi is in the top 1% of former Chancellors of the Exchequer who’ve made a pig’s ear of their tax affairs while being the ultimate boss of the tax collectors. The one good thing that came out of that was that a top tax person said HMRC does not issue penalties for innocent mistakes.
The tax deadline was yesterday. I did a lot of searching on Monday when I was trying to find bills and receipts under the bread bin and in that wee cubbyhole beside the fridge. Phew, I think I got them all.
So, I then very studiously entered all the figures, pressed submit… and waited. Eventually it came up: “Your return has been submitted successfully.” Yes. If I wasn’t observing Dry January, I’d have felt like popping a cork.
The curious case of the missing sock
Back in the 1980s, I had a party round at my flat. It must have been the corks popping or something, but soon I decided to have 40 winks on my sofa. It’s my party and I’ll snore if I want to.
A young lady who, years later, was to become Mrs X, seized her chance. She slunk up and slowly pulled off my left sock. She then slipped it over the sock on my right foot. When I woke up, I was feeling much better, but couldn’t figure out where my left sock was.
When it was time to wash my one remaining sock, I felt so stupid
I spent the next day searching for it. As I was hopping around, the guilty sock-switcher phoned to say thanks for the party, and have you found your left sock yet?
Why the interest? I realised she must have it. I thought of storming round to hers to rummage through her drawers. I thought the better of that as, even in the 1980s, it would probably have got me into a lot of trouble and I wouldn’t have found my darned sock.
But I was at high doh. It probably was the only pair I had. When it was time to wash my one remaining sock, I felt so stupid.
Alex’s new book
Just like I thought Alex was. He’s a local builder who told me a while back he was going to write a book. I was shocked as he has only been a brickie since he left school. Why?
“Och, well,” he said, “It seems easy. After all, you did it.” Well, I ghost-wrote a book, which is a bit different.
Then, he says: “So, all I need is to search for something to write about.”
Which is why I texted him last week to ask how he was getting on, and what the book was about.
His exact reply was: “I’m going to write about how to renovate your basement. I think it will be a big cellar.”
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
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