Michele, who is a dear soul, has asked me if writing too many different things at once is bad. She gets, we believe, the following sounds from friends and relatives: “Scoff, hiss-boo, derision, jeer” and such.
This is entirely subjective. It might, at this juncture, be useful to point out that there are many, many people out there who are bored with their own lives and wish to, vicariously, live yours.
Let me give an example:
You are in the garden. You are happily, and innocently, planting marigolds in your border as part of an herbaceous lay-out. Along comes Mrs You-Should. She stands and watches you for anything up to, shall we say, fifty milliseconds before the temptation to say something takes over.
“If I was you,” she says, “I would plant those marigolds over there because....”
We do not need to explore the variations of design and horticultural necessities that rotate in Mrs. You-Should’s mind.
The point is that she is not you.
She has planned this whole conversation around the idea that she knows better than you and that her advice is indispensible to you. The advice will, therefore, be eagerly snatched up and taken with such rapidity that it will make your ears hurt.
That it does not will strike with such force as to make effrontery a considerable understatement.
Consider.
Somebody, a friend, perhaps, gives you a present. Naturally you thank the friend for their kindness for the friend has thought of you and has gone to a great deal of thought and trouble to find something that, hopefully, you will like and appreciate.
But you don’t like it.
The gift is now yours. It is do with as you wish.
Burn it, break it, give it away. It is yours.
Of course, it is best to tell the friend about this or they may give you more in the belief that you were so rapt with it that you are starting a collection!
“Idea Sprite”!
Many, many years ago my cousin and her husband were invited to a friend’s house for Sunday lunch. My cousin was poor, her friend was not. This lunch was charity under the guise of “We always have too much on a Sunday – come and help us out”. Condescending? Patronising? Yes, but kind hearted, nonetheless.
The friend made a delicious roast but was in a state of panic for dessert. In the end they made rice pudding. Everyone likes a milk pudding and it is, too, quick and easy (except for me. I am completely unable to make rice or macaroni pudding. My great friend, Gerry Buxton – the finest chef in the known universe, will attest to this!).
Lunch was enjoyed but, then, came dessert. Cousin and husband gagged the rice pudding down for fear of offending their hosts. They both, as one, hate rice pudding.
“We are so glad you enjoyed the lunch, you must come again. Next week? Fine. See you then.”
Hostess knows that she is safe with rice pudding and, thus, repeats the dessert. Every Sunday.
Ultimately, cousin’s husband says, “I’m so sorry but we hate rice pudding. We ate it so as not to offend you.”
Hostess and host laughed fit to burst. “Why didn’t you say so, you silly-billies! I should have made something else! You suffered needlessly.”
They ‘suffered needlessly’. Hmm. Think about that.
Whenever you are given something it is always best to be honest. Say “Thank you but I may pass this on.”
Advice is a gift. It is offered, usually without request, on the understanding that the recipient will take it.
But it is a gift. You may take it, or leave it, at your will. If you give advice to someone do not be offended if they make their own mind up, if they reach their own decision on whatever matter it is.
Their advice is based on their own wants, needs or expectations.
“If I was you, I’d....”
But they are not you.
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