Misunderstood

Saturday, December 25th., Cadogan Square, London.

This Xmas all right, though I did not have a good night before it. It was all organised by Dorothy, and she made it very successful. It was her first Christmas in charge of a household. I have no doubt that, if asked, she would say that it was success in spite of, rather than because of, me. I have acquired a reputation as a 'bah... humbug' sort of person, which I think is undeserved. It makes sense to me that there should be a festival mid-winter, to mark the turn of the seasons, but it is all the frenzied preparations and materiality which give me offence. I blame Dickens!

Another area in which I am misunderstood is in my tendency to question things. I don't like to take things for granted but when I pose a simple question it is often interpreted as my being negative. For example whilst we were out walking yesterday we saw an old lady standing by herself and seeming to be in need of help. I was on my way to offer assistance but a young man beat me to it. The lady thanked him but said she was quite all right, just taking a rest. It was suggested to me that this was an example of how kind people could be. I agreed but pointed out that even to offer help is not a selfless act, because the person offering gets a psychological reward; they feel themselves to be a good person. In my view there is no such thing as 'pure' altruism. I did not intend to minimise the action but was nevertheless condemned as a grumpy old detractor. Well, at least that is correct in part!

I have opened my presents. Some are consumable, which is good. Some are books, which is better. Some are puzzles, which suggests to me that there is a suspicion abroad that I am in need of mental stimulation to counteract the effects of ageing.