Chitra Ramaswamy

Published on Friday 12 June 2009 15:47

I'M GOING through a nasty jealous phase. I keep coveting strangers' lives, which must mean there is something wrong with my own. I don't just want someone's iPhone, personality or the neighbour's baby. No, I actually want other people's entire lives, from A to Z, birth to death, the whole kit and caboodle. I am even prepared to offer my own sorry existence in exchange, perhaps with all six series of Sex and the City and my button box thrown in for a guaranteed quick sale.

The little beast at my breast called envy wakes early. In the morning as I stagger to work, my laptop elbowing me in the back, there they are, all those smug dog owners gamboling on the Links with their furry friends. It's not fair. Don't these people have jobs and strip lighting to go to? Just because I move on more than the Littlest Hobo and have no time for dogs, walks or happiness, does it mean I should be deprived of a hound of my own?

It gets worse as the day wears on. The woman at Starbucks looks suspiciously contented and carefree. She's probably writing a bestseller on her lunch breaks. Meanwhile I can't even get the consistency of the crema on my espresso right.

A lollipop lady basks in a square of sunshine, actually getting a tan while working. Again, not fair. A woman with three children – two crying, one with a jar's worth of jam on his chops – plus four shopping bags catches my eye. OK, she hasn't brushed her hair since 2004, but she has children and no longer needs to worry about "scheduling" them in between promotion and the last egg.

When I covet the lifestyle of a man struggling down the road on crutches (he must be off work for weeks, lucky sod) I realise this has to stop or I'll be wishing I could trade places with Gordon Brown.

What is wrong with me? It could be something to do with being overworked, underslept and having an RSI so bothersome the physio laughed out loud when she felt my back. Or it could be the first signs of insanity. Whatever, so far the only respite in a covetous week was when a friend envied my button box. I should have offered to swap it.