Jane Bradley: I’ll be back to the drawing... bored

Its easy to be picky about where to go and what  to do with ourselves. There will always be another art class that would suit us better, wont there? Picture: Contributed

Its easy to be picky about where to go and what to do with ourselves. There will always be another art class that would suit us better, wont there? Picture: Contributed

0
Have your say

We are officially boring. All of us. I’m actually bored talking to you now, rude though it is of me to 
admit it.

We are officially boring. All of us. I’m actually bored talking to you now, rude though it is of me to admit it.

And I’m sure you’ll already be out of your skull with ennui before you’ve even finished reading this sentence.

But just why are we so bored (and therefore boring, as I constantly tell my daughter when she dares to voice this complaint)?

Who knows? But we are, according to a study of the Nordic nations published this week. Rather depressingly, just 36 per cent of UK adults find their lives exciting, as opposed to 47 per cent of Swedes, 54 per cent of Norwegians and 58 per cent of Danes.

That means the other two-thirds of us think we lead anything but exciting lives.

Of course, everything becomes mundane, if you do it for long enough.

• READ MORE: Jane Bradley: You are what you put in the trolley

Last year, a heavily pregnant Kim Kardashian posted a glamorous selfie from her luxury holiday in St Barts. Unlike her sisters, who were out enjoying themselves indulging in watersports, poor old up-the-duff Kimmie was forced to relax on the gigantic yacht they had hired, eating top-notch grub and doing, well, almost certainly absolutely anything she liked.

“Bored selfie on the boat because I can’t jet pack or jet ski,” wrote the then-mother-of-one. Diddums. Most parents would dream of having time to take a selfie, never mind time to apply the carefully-crafted face of make-up Kim was sporting.

But even those of us who are not as stinking rich as Kim are pretty lucky, in the big scheme of things. Many of you readers live in – or within striking distance of – some of Britain’s most vibrant and beautiful cities, which boast more film screenings, theatre productions and gigs than you can shake a stick at, not to mention the stunning Scottish countryside which is on our doorsteps.

Yet, according to this survey, city dwellers are more likely to go home after work and spend evenings checking e-mails rather than taking advantage of the wide variety of events and entertainment the local environs have to offer.

Because, perhaps surprisingly, residents of bigger UK cities are more fed up with life than those hailing from smaller towns and villages, the survey claims.

Just three out of ten residents of Britain’s biggest cities think their lives are exciting, compared with nearly half of inhabitants of towns and villages across the country.

Women are also more likely than men to say they are bored – with half of females admitting to heading straight to social media to allay their boredom as soon as the ennui starts to set in. Like that is going to help. Flicking through endless pictures of the spawn of someone with whom you once went to primary school, or reading the millionth status update that says the person KNOWS which of their friends will post a badly spelled status in support of cancer/mental health/pygmy hedgehogs, but would you do them a favour anyway, even for a few hours...

I personally believe that the root of this problem is far too much choice. We are spoiled, coddled, constantly offered the best – and the second best and the third. We just don’t know where to start.

For months, actually, years now, I have been planning to go to an art class. I love the idea of regularly going along to a hall somewhere, sitting down with an exciting array of acrylic paints and creating a masterpiece. (Disclaimer: it would not actually be a masterpiece. I gave up art in my third year of secondary school, after getting a D for a sketch I was forced to draw of my “knees and feet in the bath”).

• READ MORE: Jane Bradley: Hey London, it’s us in the regions

A quick online search has regularly revealed that there are no fewer than 14 art classes within striking distance of my house.

But each one I have dismissed as not quite perfect in some way. I’d prefer to do a general class rather than that specifically still life-focused one which is otherwise ideal. That one a five-minute walk from my house is no good because it’s on Tuesdays and my husband is often late from work on a Tuesday. That other one is a five-minute drive, as opposed to a five minute walk: maybe I’ll wait until the studio a five-minute walk away changes its classes to a Thursday. I can’t join that Friday one this term because I’m away for two weekends in a row and it would be a waste of money to sign up to a block of 12 classes and miss two. Wouldn’t it?

Whatever the reason, it has resulted in the event that I have never attended a single art class. Instead, I have spent the evenings when I could be out – socialising, creating – sitting on the sofa, flicking idly through my Facebook feed and watching something brain-numbing on television.

If, I was arguing the other day, I lived in a small town, I probably would have joined the only art class – or the one four towns away – ages ago and just made it work. I may be making a living out of my amazing works of art by now. I’m sure I would be.

But the sheer choice in the centre of a capital city confuses me. Nothing is ever good enough. If I can’t find the perfect art class, I won’t have any art class, my irrational brain is telling me.

In the meantime, I am leaving myself open to boredom. And I am not alone. According to the report, carried out, somewhat bizarrely, by online gambling site Maria Casino, British women are four times more likely to check their e-mails than exercise, and two-and-a-half times more likely to watch TV than call their friends or family for a gossip.

Only boring people get bored, I tell my daughter. And I couldn’t agree with me more.

Let’s get off our backsides and spell an end to boredom and being boring.

Back to the top of the page