Let's join the queue!

As you may have heard, our shopping visits to Marks and Spencer's may soon be shortened.  A system is currently being tested whereby you can pay your bill through an app called 'Mobile, Pay, Go'.

The outcome?
You can then walk away with your goods without any need for going to a till.  No queuing, no waiting . . . and you'll be out of the store much more quickly.

Forgive me if I'm a little uneasy about what seems, on the face of it it, to be an excellent idea.
But, just think about it for a moment . . . is it always good to do away with human contact?

It seems a little ironic that this news was released the same week as we learned of the growing problem of loneliness.
Did you know that dance lessons for the lonely are about to be offered on the NHS?

When queuing to pay your bill in the Food Hall you're in contact, and sometimes in conversation, with others in the queue.  The person at the till is often familiar to you . . . you smile and exchange comments.
There is nothing profound in this inter-change, but it is genuine, eye-to-eye human contact . . . something that is fast going out of fashion.

Tell me, when you are waiting for a bus, do you ever fall into conversation with others at the bus stop?
I find this an increasingly rare occurrence, those waiting are either preoccupied or concentrating on their smart phones.

When you walk along the pavement, do you ever make eye contact and smile at those who pass?

Again, and for the same reasons, this happens all too infrequently. 

We make contact with those we know, with those who agree with us, with those who share our feelings.  Casual encounters are becoming increasingly rare as social media segregates and classifies.

But, as I'm sure you'd agree, the written word on its own can easily be misinterpreted, and often lacks subtlety.
What about a loving tone of voice, a kindly smile, a reassuring hug?
None of which are available on Twitter.

Nonetheless, our reliance on social media is increasing.  Did you know that many youth clubs have closed down?
Young people, it seems, feel more secure online.  They are happier communicating with those they know, than encountering strangers face to face.

The upshot of all this?  We are becoming a more and more wary and divided society.  Hate crimes are on the increase, mistrust is growing and a  a recognition of our shared humanity is being pushed to one side.

The other morning, on 'Thought For The Day'. Rabbi Sacks spoke movingly on the subject of diversity and group conflict.

"We are," he said, "enlarged by our differences.  We need a strong, inclusive, national identity.  We need to become a bigger us."

So, let's become 'a bigger us'.
 An 'us' who goes out of our way to encounter others
. . . an 'us' who is constantly on the lookout for the myriad factors we hold in common, not for what divides us.

Let's reject the new app.   As part of the queue in the Food Hall, we can then chat and discuss our wares with our fellow shoppers.

After all, what could be more unifying than a delicious lemon cake . . . something that can usually be spotted in my shopping basket!

The perfect Therapy Cat!

Hello, it's Chloe here . . . I've just come in from the garden, have you a quick moment for a chat?

My Mum's friends tell me that she's had an op, and that I must take great care of her.

Between you and me, I must admit that I've no idea what an op is, but, judging by the change in our daily activities . . . well, I, for one, am all in favour.

"We can't go to the nursing home for the time being," said my Mum, "so you'll have to be my therapy cat at home."
Now, what did she mean by that?
Does she need the sort of therapy that I'd like to have myself?  If so, that must surely mean lots and lots of time spent in the garden?

So, as therapy-cat-in-charge, this is what I'm doing.

I don't let her hang around in bed, oh no!  we're out in the garden before nine o'clock every morning.  Then, allowing her some time to put her feet up when we come in (she can look a bit exhausted), I get her out again before lunch.  Her final outing of the day takes place at around three o'clock, after which I let her relax.
And you should just see how she's thriving on this treatment . . . I'm a very good therapy cat.

She thinks that the reason she hasn't needed any pain-killers is because of the Arnica she takes.
But you and I know that it's really all thanks to me.

Not only that, as I'm sure you'd agree, it's the perfect time of the year to be in the garden.  For some reason, chestnut trees have a habit of dropping things in the autumn.
The things they drop are green and spiky and, when they hit the ground, they break open to let out a very shiny brown nut.
My Mum says it's called a conker.

Well, I must say those conkers wouldn't appeal to me for lunch, but they certainly appeal to the squirrels!  I've never known so many squirrels scampering along the branches.

And what do the squirrels do?  They chew up the conkers and leave lots of bits of chewed-up nut all over the ground.

But this isn't the end of the story.  Who comes scurrying along in search of all these bits of chewed-up conker?  You've guessed it . . . it's the field mice!

And then do you know who comes visiting the garden in search of tasty mice and squirrels?
You've got it . . . it's the foxes!

So, although she's been hit on the head once or twice by a falling conker, I can't think of anything more therapeutic for my Mum than sitting under the trees in the garden in October.

We watch the squirrels, I leap into the ivy when I hear a mouse, and we've even come face to face with a visiting fox!

Yes, there's no doubt about it, whatever they are, ops are definitely beneficial . . . particularly when they take place in the autumn!

Now, I mustn't stay here chatting . . .  my Mum needs her next visit to the garden.

Never let it be said that I'm anything other than the perfect therapy cat!