Alternatives,sophistication,Lo DIY Alternatives to sophistication

When starting a new work at home business it is very easy to become consumed by it. We spend so much time trying to get the business up and running that we may end up becoming burned out and lose our motivation. There is so much to learn and Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;mso-style-noshow:yes;mso-style-parent:"";mso-padding-alt:0in

Lots of people like to think they're sophisticated, or, to put it another way, that they're witty, urbane, experienced and knowing. Some of us would like to think of ourselves as people who've grown up and learned the ways of the world, how to prosper and survive, how to make your mark and contribute. Is that right? We've grown up, all right, or at least, grown older, moved along the journey and done what we've done, but looking back, can we honestly say we've learned one damn thing?Like, for example, a friend of mine, who spends his leisure time sipping a glass of expensive wine and looking back on his achievements. A while ago we were reminiscing about the Swinging Sixties. Remember them? Yes, there was a time, back when the years began with a 1960, that people in England liked to think they led the world, in music, fashion, business, oh, and all those other important human endeavours. Like sex. In the 1960s sex changed; the birth control pill made people more easygoing and experimental. Like what? I said, quizzing my friend. Because, as I remember, the thing about the 1960s is that I was there, but I don't recall doing much swinging. Whatever it was that was happening, it didn't seem to be happening to me.For example, he said, he remembered hitchhiking up to London for the Stones concert in the park. Not just any park, Hyde Park. Ah, and that was the Rolling Stones. It was 1969, Mick Jagger wore a frilly white shirt, released some doves and read a poem in honour of one of the founder members of the band, Brian Jones, who had just died. You were there? I asked, (although I might have vaguely remembered). Yes, my pal had hitchhiked from Bristol where we lived, about 120 miles, and before the motorway was finished, so it took about 4 hours, to London, with his sleeping bag on his back. It was the night before. The park was already crowded, people lying on the grass, drinking and smoking. My friend joined in, getting drunk, smoking the dope he was offered, and talking about important things, like their favourite Stones' song. When it was time to sleep, they crawled into their sleeping bags and drifted off. That's when a young girl sidled over to my friend, asked him if there was room for two in there, and snuggled in beside him. They made love and went to sleep. That's it? Yes, that was it. Casual sex with a complete stranger, at an event to do with music, in the presence of our idols and mentors, pop stars.So much for the 1960s. We thought we were so clever, and all we have to remember is a few bits of music and carnal lust. It isn't much, is it? Not much of a monument. In contrast, last week I went to the Graduation of one of my daughters. The University she happened to attend is called Cambridge. To graduate, she had to dress up in a gown with (fake) fur trimmings, take part in a procession from King's College to the Senate House, and there, in the presence of the Vice Chancellor and the Beadles, line up for her scroll. The graduands walked forward in lines of four, where they were received by a woman in a black cape who offered them each a finger of her hand to hold. (No one knows why.) They then went singly forward, and had to kneel before the Vice Chancellor's representative. They put their hands together, as if praying, and the lady, who was dressed in red robes and looked like Santa Claus, put her hands over their's and whispered some words in Latin. They then had to stand, back off, bow their heads and exit by the side door. That's it. That's the ceremony. That's Cambridge University, which has been there since 1278. I can't help thinking that they are the sort of people who people like us, back in the 1960s, were sneering at, but they're still here, having weathered the upsets in society, and we have nothing to offer but sleeping bags and pop music.Or maybe we just got older and creakier. I see that Glastonbury Festival was on last week, another hangover from years ago. It's been going since 1971 and was an attempt to emulate the success of Woodstock in America, all top bands, heavy vibes and mud. The TV reported that there was mud at Glasto this year, as usual, but most people, these days, are coming prepared, wearing their designer Wellington boots. They also stay in hotels, some of them, or nearby farm houses, or designer yurts, with their own built-in bathrooms, Berber wall hangings, and beds. Ah, more sophisticated times: the beds have replaced the sleeping bags, for some.Maybe that's the point. People like the idea of music in the open air, and, these days, are prepared to pay a lot more money for it. At the same time, they don't really enjoy the hardship, the rain and the soggy ground, (most of them), and are happy to pay extra for a comfortable night's sleep. But, when younger, are happy to pretend that rough conditions and lewd behaviour are enough to constitute a good time. When older, tastes are not just more sophisticated, they are gentler and more demanding, when it really does matter that the bed is comfortable and the wine is chilled. Having tried the opposite, the choice is made for the less stressful option and, being ever adaptable, we call that 'sophistication' and explain it as being the logical choice, going through the same process of self-justification as we did when we were younger, just thinking about different things. Article Tags: Sleeping Bags