​I’ve had my flat re-painted and the results - dust everywhere, blotches of paint, nauseating smell - were so devastating as my first impression that I called my mum and shouted at her. My mum had had nothing whatsoever to do with my idea of home improvement, let alone with its execution, but I wasn’t thinking rationally. I was frustrated and instead of calling the builder, a total stranger, responsible for the chaos, who hadn’t quite finished the work, I vented out my feelings on the person I love most. 

In his book The Course of Love, Alain de Botton, observes the following:

“The world upsets, disappoints, frustrates and hurts us in countless ways at every turn. It delays us, rejects our creative endeavours, overlooks us for promotions, rewards idiots and smashes our ambitions on its bleak, relentless shores. And almost invariably, we can’t complain about any of it. It’s too difficult to tease out who may really be to blame; and too dangerous to complain even when we know for certain (lest we be fired or laughed at)."

He then explains that we pick people we love - “the very nicest, most sympathetic, most loyal people in the vicinity” to blame for our frustrations and disappointments. It is, of course, completely unfair and irrational, if not absurd. But people who love us are the ones who understand us and tolerate our behaviour. They are the ones “most likely to stick around while we pitilessly rant at them.”

Still, even with this good explanation it is difficult to excuse such behaviour entirely. De Botton says that therein lie the rules under which love operates. He argues that “our wild charges are a peculiar proof of intimacy and trust, a symptom of love itself - and, in their own way, a perverted manifestation of commitment."

“Whereas we can say something sensible and polite to any stranger, it is only in the presence of the lover we wholeheartedly believe in that we can dare to be extravagantly and boundlessly unreasonable."

Alain de Botton’s latest book The Course of Love is one of the most original and thought-provoking books I’ve ever read. It’s written as a case study of a relationship between two people - Rabih and Kirsten - who meet, fall in love and get married, which is when love really begins. The reader follows the couple “ever after” through sulks and disappointments, children and infidelity, blame and maturity. Every so often the author adds his own commentary to highlight valuable lessons sprouting from the most prosaic situations, be it laundry or a fleeting crush. The sulks are explained as a failure in communication; happiness in love  - as finding familiarity. The book is frightening in its absolute honesty and appealing in its uplifting wisdom.

True to his style, de Botton excels at navigating the perils of love and marriage with wit. 

“Choosing a person to marry is hence just a matter of deciding exactly what kind of suffering we want to endure, rather than of imagining we have found a way to skirt round the rules of emotional existence.” 

On this note, I know exactly what I’m getting as a present for a friend of mine, who is getting married next month.  The Course of Love is a bible of love for the faithful and atheists alike. 

Yes, this is still Life Tonic and not a graduate recruitment page of Deloitte or McKinsey. It is August, a nightmare time for a freelancer and after a recent conversation with a friend, complaining about his corporate job, I'd like to say a few words in defence of "office moles".

These days, unless you are a displaced migrant or a dweller of Subsaharan Africa, we are blessed with choice the generations before us only dreamt about. The jobs for life are no longer what professionals aspire for and instead we seek meaningfulness, fulfilment and the thrill of challenge. Money and status are still important but these are just some of the values we seek to tick. Job security (along with pensions, private healthcare, etc.) has become obsolete if your news feed comes from the sources geared for the millennials, while volunteering, sabbaticals and social entrepreneurship are selling like hot cakes. 

So much has been written in praise of entrepreneurs and freelancers, taking a "leap of faith", becoming your own boss and (dare I say it...) "disrupting" one's career path that it must feel like a failure to stay in the same job for the last 5 years. 

If you know where to look, you might have come across some pretty candid stories about what it's actually like to be a freelancer, but let me summarise it here for you. Being a freelancer or an entrepreneur is like crossing a sea in a dinghy: it's exhilarating for about 5 minutes a day and then you feel lonely, scared, under-appreciated and miserable the rest of the time. It takes superhuman strength of character to keep going and while it's worth it every step of the way, it is by no means plain sailing. I am a freelancer, I am happy in my dinghy, but every time I see a ship passing by, I fantasise about being on that deck, sunbathing and sipping Aperol Spritz.

You see, a corporate ship means a monthly paycheque, paid vacation, regular hours, private medical insurance and a pension plan. Typically, you have a boss and if she is any good, she'll help you grow - professionally and personally - while at the same time alleviating your responsibility when things don't go to plan. An office job means spontaneous access to a sounding board, healthy competition, Secret Santa and chocolates your colleague brings back from a business trip to Switzerland. It means lunch which does not require a washing up and a daily commute during which you might meet that special someone just by virtue of going out more. Most importantly, since we are social animals, corporate environment means office banter and communal environment. On the morning after the Brexit referendum I felt utterly miserable and lost. I don't have a partner or even a pet. I would have loved to come to an office where I could share my grief with colleagues and go out for a pint at the end of the day to decipher it all. Instead, I was at home and unable to do any work, I stayed glued to the TV screen, Facebook and Twitter, which was helpful but somehow soulless.

What I am trying to say is that today we are blessed with choice and it pays to take advantage of it. Remember, no-one is judging you (we are too busy judging ourselves), so make sure you re-evaluate where you are on a regular basis, especially if interesting opportunities come your way. Some people thrive in corporate environments and they should make the most of it. Others will never succeed in a large hierarchy, no matter how many courses, workshops and executive training sessions they attend. And there will be other people who can and will do both at different stages of their lives. Don't measure yourself by a common yardstick, be open with yourself and make sure you scratch that entrepreneurial itch or lean back in your swivel chair and stretch, complimenting yourself on being exactly where you want to be. Amen.

​This summer I got addicted to Revisionist History, a new podcast about forgotten or misinterpreted people and events, created and presented by Malcolm Gladwell. If you’ve been reading Life Tonic for a while, you know that I am a big fan of Gladwell (see, for example, Why I wasn’t destined to become a swimmer or 10,000 hours), and his new podcast is as superb as his books: curious, erudite and thought-provoking. 

In one of the episodes, Food Fight, Gladwell invites us to sample canteen food at the Bowdoin College, a liberal arts and science college in Maine. Here is what I’ve copied from the College website: 

"Bowdoin meals are made from scratch by a staff of talented culinary professionals dedicated to providing a wide array of healthy and delicious options, many drawn from a variety of international cuisines and recipes submitted by students and their families. Our dining halls offer vegan options and selections made with no gluten ingredients at every meal, including plentiful salad bars and entrée salads at lunch and dinner. Because we prepare our dishes using mostly fresh ingredients, we have eliminated most trans fats and high fructose corn syrup from the dining hall menus.

We are constantly improving our methods of food preparation and experimenting with new recipes. The Student Dining Advisory Committee meets several times each semester to provide Dining with menu ideas and feedback to ensure we are providing the best service possible."

Indeed, the website displays photos of kale and asparagus, fresh berries and even lobster. Thinking back to my student days when I was waitressing in my College Hall, the best evening meals were lasagne and toad-in-the-hole, while the lunch buffet offered baked potatoes, coleslaw drenched in mayonnaise and soup, which gave me indigestion. Bowdoin food seems unreal in comparison, and listening to the podcast, I was silently congratulating the college for taking such good care of student welfare.

Once Gladwell ensured his audience was salivating, he introduced us to another College, Vassar, which is a similar private liberal arts and science college, based in the Hudson Valley of the New York state, and competing essentially for the same would-be students as Bowdoin. The food at Vassar is atrocious: you won’t find lobster there. However, what you will find is a generous financial aid programme. In fact, it’s the College goal "to make a Vassar education affordable and accessible to all admitted students”. In an interview with the College president, it becomes clear that the College budget (fees and endowment) is heavily skewed towards financial aid at the expense of other areas, such as fancy food.

I’ve written about the concept of opportunity cost before, but it never ceases to amaze me how often people seem to forget that every choice requires them to give something else up. Fancy college food is a great idea, but it must be weighed against other, arguably more important, subsidies. The British Parliament last month voted to replace Trident, UK’s nuclear submarines, ballistic missiles and nuclear warhead, which will cost the the UK taxpayers over £18 billion. In the age of ubiquitous international terrorism, military drones and cyber wars, I find it surprising that nuclear arsenal gets priority treatment. Looking at the required investment from the opportunity cost point of view, we must realise that Westminster voted to renew Trident at the expense of investment in healthcare, education, conservation, science, etc. Even the main opposition party, which supposedly stands against the austerity, has backed the renewal of the nuclear programme.

Last night I watched a video about Josh Coombes, a London-based hairdresser, who gives free haircuts to the homeless people, who receive a much-needed boost in self-esteem through his generosity. Josh is 29, and I could not help but think about his sense of priority. He could spend the time he gives to the homeless to earn money at a salon or to put his feet up, yet he chooses to do good at the expense of riches or leisure. 

Gladwell implores his listeners to send their kids to Vassar, where equal opportunities for the brightest kids, irrespective of their means, are prioritised above gourmand food. I would only add that any decision, be it over your next meal or the state’s budget, must be weighed up against its opportunity cost rather than just on its own merit.

Here is a link to Revisionist History on itunes. (It’s free.)