IT is 5am. The ceiling has just turned into a ceiling, replacing the black void that it has been all night. I know this because I’ve been looking into it all night. Looking into it and asking: what’s the point of it all? I didn’t get an answer, which is just as well because I probably wouldn’t have believed it. I don’t understand (obviously, or I wouldn’t be asking what the point of it all was)… yesterday I looked out on the world and it was full of sunshine and lovers and the playground noises of children. This morning, as the sun comes up, I think of drought, and terrorists…

IT’S one of life’s mysteries, like the single sock in the drawer and the place mossies go when you miss them. I want to know why no international flights ever leave or land at civilised times. I know it’s not one of those daily frustrations, like the yoghurt pot in the fridge that always has green mould in it, but just once before I die I’d like to be able to get up at 8am, have a leisurely breakfast, drive sedately to an airport and catch a plane to somewhere foreign at noon. It can’t be done. There is a secret rule followed by all international airlines everywhere in the…

I KNEW this would happen! When the Test is on everyone wants to play cricket. That’s okay. I can play cricket. Give me a fielding position with the word “deep” in it, like deep leg, or deep cover, or whatever they call it, and I can go through all the right motions. The intense concentration on my face and in my demeanour as I stand like a coiled leopard waiting to pounce on the ball is almost poetic to behold. If anyone actually hit the thing in my direction it might be different, but at least I can look the part. And you’d be surprised how many runs you can…

MY wife’s birthday is looming. Normally one thinks of danger looming, not birthdays. In my wife’s case it’s the same thing. I have a week in which to come up with an idea for a birthday present. I even asked her. “You shouldn’t have to ask me, we’ve been married 26 years!” said my wife. But that’s the problem. In 26 years I think she’s had every gift known to humankind.   The iron, the microwave, the sewing machine… you name it, she’s received it. “The diamond necklace?” she asked. Well… er… no, actually. But what’s the point in giving a mediocre diamond necklace? I mean, I love my wife.…

I BEGIN to wonder about me. I scoff at superstition. The idea that crossing my fingers could wield any influence at all over the planets on their courses, or the atoms that dance like wasps around my head, is laughable. When I spill salt I generally just wipe it on the floor for my wife to deal with when she vacuums. I have been known to open umbrellas in the house just to prove it doesn’t bring bad luck (and shortly after discovered a termite infestation, but that was coincidence). But here we are, four days into the new year and already I have been involved in enough arcane hocus…