Peter Rhodes on storms, sporrans and the plain bad manners of phubbing
'Twas a hard decision but the right one to cancel the Edinburgh military tattoo on Monday, in the teeth of Storm Floris. High winds and kilts have never been a good mix.
Phubbing? No, it didn't ring a bell with me either. It is apparently a word created to describe people who pay more attention to their mobile phone than to the person they are with. It's short for “phone snubbing. We have all seen it – the group of friends around a dinner table, each frantically fixated on their smartphone and ignoring the humans closest to them.
The mobile phone has divided society. Middle-aged people still believe in the old custom of “dropping in” unannounced on friends or relations. To later generations this is grossly intrusive. The correct form is to arrange the meeting by phone and announce your presence, also by phone, when you are at the door. Ringing the doorbell is the pits. Once guests and hosts are assembled, they all produce their smartphones and ignore each other. Not merely ridiculous but phubbing ridiculous.
Anyway, scientists in India report that repeated phone-snubbing can “undermine the emotional and physiological mechanisms that sustain romantic bonds and reproductive motivation.” Are we phubbing our way out of existence?
Whitehall watchers complain that civil servants are being invited to “woke” seminars during working hours, at the public's expense. I seem to recall something similar during my days as a desk-slug. Suddenly the entire Editorial department would leave the building, head for the nearest pubs and chat with the perfumed lovelies from Advertising (it was a long time ago). After some time we would dutifully return to our desks. I can't swear these meetings were woke but they were team-building. I believe we called them fire drills.
An online BBC report concerning an alleged sex offence refers to the defendants as “Mr Mulakhil” and “Mr Kabir,” while George Finch, the Reform UK leader of Warwickshire County Council who has commented on the case, is twice referred to as plain “Finch.” Now, why would that be?
A delivery bloke has just arrived wearing a T-shirt slogan declaring: “You're on mute.” I get that feeling a lot these days.
