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| This cat pic couldn't be a better metaphor for my life. |
What is this Invictus Games that everyone keeps going on
about? What did Jay Z do to Beyoncé? What’s going on in Brazil this summer, the
Olympics or the World Cup? I have no clue anymore. I am hopelessly, joyfully
out of touch. How is Greece doing these days? No idea. Why are junior doctors
striking? Haven’t the foggiest. Syria? Nope.
I used to be well informed. I used to read The Economist and
have Opinions. Now my main source of news is watching Bulgarian breakfast TV
over coffee with the neighbours. And all they ever talk about on Bulgarian
breakfast TV is Enrique Iglesias. I still read The Guardian app but, if I’m
really honest, these days I skip straight to the food and travel bits. I have
disengaged. I have no idea what’s happening in the world, but I know how to
make spelt brownies and that it was Enrique Iglesias’s birthday last week.
I think I like it better this way. Take football, for
instance. I haven’t had to endure an actual football match in years. It’s like
football has disappeared off the face of the earth, and I LOVE it.
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| Bye, football. Wooooo hooooo. |
Other reasons to be cheerful for being out of touch:
- Instagram celebrities
- Brexit nonsense
- Reality TV
- David Cameron’s shiny pink face
Things I am still very much in touch with:
- The wonder of kale
- Lattes
- Anything Netflix
- Skinny jeans (These are still a thing, right? Right?)
- Beards (Admiring, not having. Although I do have this one chin hair…)
