A Master of Boredom

TARDISThe Doctor. Doctor Who?

For many a year I lived under the delusion that  everyone shared my experience of the world. I feel too much, I am told. I feel too intensely. The world is a cornucopia to me. Wherever I turn I see beauty. I gasp in wonder at this marvel that is our universe.

So alive. So deliciously human. Exhilarating, is it not?

How devastating to discover that for the majority of people the Earth is a dull planet. How can that be?!

Stevenson said “I never remember being bored” — and yet even his truthfulness is doubted. Not so, they say. We – none of us – escape boredom. More worryingly so: apparently we are bored for the greater part of our lives.


I have said myself in the past… I recall it quite clearly: “Darling, I’m dreadfully bored!” But it was said somewhat in irony or as a small tongue-in-cheek dedication to the roaring twenties – the age of parties and exuberance – the age of unboredom itself.

Yet, here it is: boredom is a fact of life. You are either bored or lying – so I am told.

Our existence? Ordinary. Our pastimes? Commonplace. Our friends? Prosaic. Our passions? Insipid. Even our sorrows do not escape the cutting critique of the world. Sordid. Apparently.

Am I to sit still and silent when such disservice is done us? Not I. For I object, your honour. I object!

We are not colour blind to the tint and nuance of life. No shades of grey for us. Let it be sunshine and rainbows! I reject the premise that nothing of interest ever happens to us, that our lives are insignificant, our experiences worthy of the unwritten dust of history.

There is nothing more exceptional that to lead an ordinary life and live it well. This is art. The art of living life to its full, but not as others dictate it, but as we choose to weave it. Our stories do matter. This world breathes with words – spoken – written – lived.

Bored? No. Thank you very much. I do not need to be a Time Lord to travel through time. I do not need to have a TARDIS to reach the ends of the universe and come back again. I am content to be human, because to be human is to be extraordinary. Why?

Because if it is there – we will find a way to discover it. If it is a challenge – we will seek a way to succeed. If it is a dream – we will turn it into reality. Just because…

No one can persuade me that the world is dull. To you and your cynicism, dear critic, I say this: your glasses have fallen into the gutter and you’ve forgotten to wipe them clean before putting them back on your nose. Dulled vision will make the world seem dull – and yes – boring too.

The rest of us are less afflicted that you may want us to believe. I will let you into a secret about life: it is bigger on the inside!

We are masters of boredom. All of us.


PS: To my grandfather, who led an extraordinarily ordinary life and was exceptionally good at it. My Doctor.