Flames, fame, and fallout: A tale of wildfires, scandals, and self-improvement

It was hard to watch the wild fires that engulfed parts of Los Angeles last week and as I write, it’s not over yet. So far, 40,000 acres of land have been gobbled up by flames and more than 20 people killed. The worst affected areas have been Palisades and Eaton where raging fires in both have still not been contained by exhausted fire responders. The emotional outpouring from celebrities whose second or maybe third luxury homes were devastated has been immense, so too has the acrimonious fighting between politicians. Gavin Newsom, the slimy looking governor of California, has come in for some stick as has the mayor and fire chief. Now the likes of Elon Musk have stepped in to criticise the policies of Newsom and so the blame game begins.

In the midst of the utter chaos came Harry and Meghan in their magic cloaks, spreading hugs and saccharine and no doubt, getting in everybody’s way. Maybe I’m being unkind; they did, after all, offer essentials to those made homeless but really, wouldn’t it have been better if they just made a fat donation to those officially in charge of handouts and stayed out of the way?

As for celebrities who spent time on social media shedding tears and discussing their hardship, what is wrong with them? Surely, if your home was completely destroyed, the last thing you’d think of doing would be making videos of yourself simpering to camera. Apparently, many of the stars affected have rocked up to the best five-star hotels and hangouts in LA, nabbing the luxury suites which cost a small fortune. Meanwhile, their agents, domestic staff and assistants are left to get on with the donkey work of getting back some semblance of order or presumably getting one of their other homes prepared for their arrival.

What we don’t hear much about in the news are the poor sods at the bottom of the food pile who don’t have second homes or lavish apartments and cannot afford to stay in a luxury bolthole. These are the ones who have literally lost their homes and livelihoods while the region burns. I doubt many will be dolling themselves up to make a video for X or Instagram, rather they’ll be struggling to come to terms with their new ghastly reality and trying to keep their families safe. Where will they stay if they don’t have relatives who can offer them refuge? My heart hurts for the poor souls and I can only hope that notoriously grasping insurance companies cough up and do the right thing. Parts of LA will need to be completely rebuilt but I so hope they’ll put ordinary hard-working folk first and help them to reset their lives.

Tarnished goods?

When my son was a nipper he enjoyed books by the author Neil Gaiman and I did too. However, some grotesque and serious allegations have come to light about the author’s behaviour, with eight women accusing him of rape and sadomasochistic assault. I was genuinely shocked to read the allegations and horrified to think that the author with a gilded pen might in reality be a sordid creep and a woman abuser. Of course, everyone is innocent until proven guilty but reading the testimonies and detailed evidence available online, it’s not looking good. As for Gaiman himself, he issued the most patronising and self-indulgent statement that, certainly for me, pointed to a dark, narcissistic and dysfunctional personality. In the light of all this, his books have to go. I don’t mind harbouring books by weirdos, nasty creeps or egoists but I really cannot condone rape and abuse. I don’t want the reminder of his past misdeeds sullying my shelves.

Russian roulette

I’m sick to the teeth with buying expensive avocados only to find that as soon as they ripen they are rotten inside. I call it Russian roulette and I’m not alone. A friend left me a message the other day, ranting about the very same thing. I suggested taking them back to the shop but really, can one prove that the little green beast was bought there? It’s a tricky one. Of course, the best answer is to grow your own, but our two trees are in their infancy and in a few decades, I suppose I might have the pleasure of sampling a fruit in my dotage but I’m not counting on it.

Fit for life?

So, I’m more than two weeks into Dry January and I can’t say it’s been too arduous. On these dark and chilly winter nights, I have no desire whatsoever to go out in search of a café or restaurant that might actually be open in the evening in Soller. Few are, let me tell you. I prefer to indulge in some reading or film viewing before bed and to have a very early night. Then I’m up early for a swim in the municipal pool or a run to the port or hills. I think January is generally the worst month for socialising because of the lack of life in the town and port and the fact that work begins piling up high on the desk. This makes it much easier to be a non-drinking hermit.

The one good thing about giving up the liqueur this month has been that I’ve also completely overhauled my diet and exercise regime. I’ve also installed a free calorie counter app, and it’s proved quite a revelation. I’ve never believed in diets, and I don’t like getting fixated on weight, but I do think we’re all subject to bad habits that we can fix, given the right motivation. I’d like to lose about 7 kilos over the next few months so that I’m back to my slimmest with more tone and muscle rather than sporting love handles and wobbly bits. By cutting out cheeky treats such as chocolate, biscuits and croissants and eating far less cheese and fewer fried foods, I’ve already lost three kilos in two weeks, so I shall carry on enjoying my grub but being mindful. By the time February comes, I hope I’ll be more on track, able to enjoy some weekend treats and wine while keeping up with the regime and enjoying the benefits.