Deborah Makarios – Page 175

November 13, 2015

Advice: the Good, the Bad & the Ugly

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that people find they must give other people advice. However little qualified they may be to do so, they can’t help themselves. It’s only human.

It is also only human to resent the giving of advice, and consequently to ignore it. Unfortunately, the better the advice, the more likely it is to provoke resentment. As Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote, “Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.”

Of course, some advice is complete rubbish, and shouldn’t be followed at all. Exhibit A, the advice received from someone who Shall Remain Nameless who told me I should have a boyfriend “just for practice” and then dump him. (I did, some time later, get a boyfriend. I have not dumped him.)

Then there is the sort of advice that is a pleasure to follow, like Edith Sitwell’s dictum about staying in bed.

And then there is the plain, straight-forward advice which can be of great use if one is prepared to accept it, such as Edwina Currie’s: “The strongest possible piece of advice I would give to any young woman is: Don’t screw around and don’t smoke.”

I asked for advice at my hen party, and what I got was a mixed bag. “I think you should go through with it,” was pretty good (and I took it). “Don’t have children before you get married,” was very sensible, but two days before the wedding, a bit redundant. “Too many mothers is a bad thing,” was cryptic, but no doubt very wise.

I think the best advice I have ever received was from my mother (mothers being traditional dispensers of wisdom). She said, “there is nothing this world has to offer which can begin to compensate for missing out on what God has planned for your life.”

Good advice is worth living by; and worth passing on. What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?

November 9, 2015

Taking It Well

What’s your attitude to receiving advice? Suspicion, annoyance, heartfelt welcome? A barely controllable desire to clobber the advicer with a hardback collection of wise sayings?
What about giving advice?

November 6, 2015

My Preciousss……

I love my books. I don’t think that will come as a surprise to anyone who a) knows me, b) has read more than a post or two of this blog, or c) has ever seen inside my house. I have even given careful consideration to the question of whether I am actually addicted to reading. I have not yet got to the point of piling them all in a heap and sleeping on my hoard like Smaug, but this is largely because books are not comfy to sleep on, and I’m bound to be seized by an uncontrollable desire to read one hiding at the bottom of the pile.

But I do not wish to be controlled by this love of books. While the dream-houses I drew plans for as a child were largely bed/bath/kitchen attached to a large library, I do not want my life to be swallowed up in service to the books. This necessitates a control on the volume of bookage, and since I have no wish to Never Acquire A Book Again (sits down with head between knees until shaking passes) that means that some books need to go, to make room for the new ones.

I’m not going overboard, mind you. I am not the kind of person who gets rid of all but ten of their books, or (shudders violently) tears out the bits they like and throws the rest of the book away. The man who inadvertently started the 100 Thing Challenge movement (aim: reduce number of personal possessions to 100 or less) did not count his books individually; in fact, I’m not sure he counted them at all.

I do find myself looking at the shelves reflectively, and considering which books would make the cut if I found myself relocating to somewhere with less book-space. There’s the books I absolutely couldn’t do without – the ones I’d pause to grab if the house was on fire; the books I re-read so often it would be folly to dispose of them; the books I’d really quite like to keep if at all possible; and the books I’m not quite so sure about. Featuring largely in the latter group: books I keep meaning to read, but haven’t yet.

Since I am unlikely to live in this house for the rest of my life (not unless I die soon, and please God I won’t), I am getting a head-start on the inevitable and starting to downsize now.

In October, I pruned out sixteen books (with the assistance of the Caped Gooseberry).

There were:
three books about English history – a mix of fiction and fact;
two dictionaries (one Spanish/English and one English/English), along with a book of etymology;
four assorted books on learning Latin (including the classic “Caecilius et Metella in horto stant”);
three books of quotations (I used to collect them, but now I tend to rely on the internet instead)
and a couple of random non-fiction books.

(There was also one ring, which I’d had for so long I can’t remember where it originated, but never wore, it being neither the right size nor to my taste. )

There are now two half-empty niches on the wall of shelves in the study, out of a total of twenty. Okay, 24, but the top four aren’t used for books (too high to reach without a stool). To give you an idea of how big the niches are: one contains a 12-volume Everyman’s Encyclopaedia and both volumes of the Shorter Oxford Dictionary.
It’s a start.

If you’re doing some decluttering too, please do leave a comment on what you’re up to below. It’s always nice to have company, besides the company of books!