Inpursuitof

Worry is the pet tortoise of Fear.

I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t worry, at least a little bit. I worry, probably more than I’d like to admit. Only about money though, money and being late to meet people. Not about dying, or missing trains, or the crisis in the Middle East, and definitely not about food poisoning.

William R. Inge said that ‘worry is the interest paid on trouble that hasn’t happened yet’. It’s ultimately a pointless task, and tends to waste a good deal of time. And yet it’s unavoidable. Wake up at 3am and it’s not likely to be bunnies on your mind, it’ll be that one email you didn’t send at 5pm on Friday. There’s no way to fix it, and yet you’ll sit there, for a while at least, mulling it over. Rinse and repeat. I’d like to offer you some advice, but other than the ineffectual ‘STOP IT’, I got nothing.

Thankfully, I’ve yet to reach the point where I envisage the various ways I can die in car crashes every 3 seconds on the motorway, like my mother. However, I have convinced myself that i can double-bluff the universe by worrying about something so that it doesn’t actually happen… I don’t know what’s worse.

1) Clare. A lovely surprise on the train home.

2) A yoghurt to a girl at work

3) Builders as I ran past fourteen thousand times at lunch.