What Do I Know?

          Last Saturday, I watched sailboats racing on Plymouth Sound.

          In that opening sentence, there are two points of contention. First, why was I, a lifelong sports-sceptic, watching racing? (The answer is that I was tempted to the spectacle by the promise of a picnic on a summer’s day: what scant interest I had in the racing evaporated as soon as the food had been consumed). As to the second point, the sailboats were F50 catamarans, which (for those who are not au fait) stretch the conventional definition of a boat, since their hulls do not touch the water once they are up and running. Quite how they work is a mystery to me and will remain so – not because I lack curiosity, but because my capacity to absorb facts is limited. Therefore, on my list of interests, sporting activities occupy pride of place at the bottom.

          The world inhabited by people who design, build and race F50 catamarans is one that I, as an outsider, am inclined to dismiss as advanced “messing about in boats”. Likewise, I think of F1 motor racing as an obsession for “petrol heads”. Yet I am amazed by the dedication and inventiveness of those who practise these disciplines and aware of the argument for their pursuit in the interests of R&D, which is vital to technological progress. Yet there are other manifestations of seemingly pointless speeding that test one’s tolerance, such as water-borne jet-skiing, which upsets the tranquil enjoyment of many a peaceful beachgoer. Is the inconsiderate noise pollution and wanton use of fossil fuels really justifiable in the individual pursuit of the mere thrill of speed?

          Still, we all like to be thrilled from time to time. Fairground rides would have a bleak future otherwise. But do speed-freaks eventually tire of the adrenaline rush? As a non-sportsman and someone whose last fairground ride was fifty-odd years ago, I don’t feel qualified to make a call on that one, except to say that, in my case at least, the answer is probably “yes”. Even so, I do still enjoy the occasional frisson, though speed is not of the essence.

          It should really be cause for celebration that other people’s interests are so diverse and so different from one’s own. Far from being dismissed as weird, peculiar or misguided, special interests of all sorts are what push the boundaries of knowledge and human endeavour. Yet there is a tendency for us to club together with people of similar interests and circumstances, to the impoverishment of our own experience. I had a reminder of this last week, when we spent some time entertaining two young women of our acquaintance. Ordinarily, I have no close contact with twenty-year olds, so it came as a shock to be reminded of the shallowness of juvenility. I marvelled at their obsession with self-appearance, their profligate waste of time, their disregard for planning ahead and the fact that they don’t care for wine with dinner! Were we all like that before we ‘grew up’? Did we all stand on the threshold of adulthood oblivious to the view of life’s horizon?

          Not that we oldies know everything. It’s never too late to learn and, though I have ruled out yacht-racing, I did try oat ‘milk’ in my coffee recently and was surprised to find it pleasingly creamy and not at all weird. I was at a vegan café, sitting outside, where the appetising aroma of kebabs wafted from the door of the adjacent Turkish grill. I’m not sure how the vegans felt about it, but I would like to think they are tolerant of, if not entirely happy with, the cultural diversity on the street.