The Pleasures Of Scarcity

There are newsworthy strong winds up in the north of England and Scotland, and it’s reasonably windy down here too. But, after a few cold days, it’s mild again and the promised rain didn’t come to much, so a short spin out with Jim off-road turned out to be far more pleasant than the theory said it was going to be.

It possibly seems an odd thing to say but it’s good to see Jim just every now and then; it makes meeting-up more pleasurable. This time of year the same thing happens with the various ‘socials’ that only come around once or twice or year, and they’re good precisely because they’re infrequent, involving people I see infrequently.

That’s no stunning revelation, but nevertheless it’s still not the way I naturally think, nor the way – I suspect – the way a lot of other people think either. You have something that’s good and so you automatically want more of it. That’s quite a deep-seated urge. But, it seems to me, having more often ruins it, whatever it is.

Perhaps ‘ruin’ is the wrong word. It dulls it; it takes something away something of the pleasure that there once was. I suppose this is exactly the same apparent paradox as those studies that find people were generally ‘happier’ in the 1950s than they are now, despite all the affluence we’ve accrued since then.