Oh this will be good. There are many things I can moan and lament about, but I will pick something that’s recently been relevant to me.
Having recently endured a second bout of covid, I remain incredibly annoyed that a microscopic virus can be so debilitating to a being as advanced as a human. Somehow, despite millions of years of evolution, we are still, as a species, amazingly vulnerable to the most simple of simple organisms.
It’s a silly thing to rant about, but it greatly frustrates me to have a cold, or the flu, and be completely unable to function as normal. I hate the fog that comes over my mind and soul. I despise the painful lethargy that overcomes my body. It becomes next to impossible to be comfortable in one’s own skin, which is outrageous.
Whenever I hear people crow about intelligent design (I am reminded of the pithy-yet-ignorant statements from the peanut gallery on the subject), I am content to consider the numerous flaws in our alleged ‘design’, that betray how it’s anything but intelligent. The human body is incredibly frail, and susceptible to numerous diseases, whilst we are also extremely limited in where we can survive, on this very planet (and if the cosmos was designed, it was a poor job, because we cannot hope to reach another earth-like planet in anything remotely like a reasonable span of time). Let’s face reality folks, we are a product of the chaotic evolutionary process, unless you want to consider any would-be designer to be rather incompetent…
Another obvious thing I can moan about, is the weather. Brits love to complain about the weather. It’s a national pastime. We are really, really good at it. Britain’s weather is notoriously wet, even during summer, and sometimes, we end up with miserable, overcast summers, and that greatly offends me. It’s bad enough that winter sometimes seems to stretch on forever, so when summer fails to meet even the barest of expectations, the mood of the nation drops. We need a bit of sunshine, for various reasons, and it is beyond frustrating when it fails to materialise.
Of course, at the other end of the spectrum, we bemoan hot weather. We’re not used to it. When the mercury soars to 37C, everything starts to melt here. We’re never satisfied in this country. What would be great is a nice, happy medium, 25C during summer, bright blue skies, and lows of no more than say, 7C in winter, that lasts from December, through to the end of February, at which point the temperature starts to climb again. Concessions would be made for Christmas (a white Christmas would be a thing of beauty), and a few rainy days would be permitted across summer, for the benefit of the grass. Alas, we cannot control the weather, so we will have to endure it.