The Little World

Having been savaged by at least eight major hobbies in my life, with the wreck of finance and intellect as evidence, I am finally drawn to wondering why…

Why these things, why me, why anyone. Why do ’em, and why pay for ’em.

Every child plays with toys, if they are lucky. Every child runs and plays sport of some sort. Many children get to learn to read and do art and make things. I remember doing all these in a child’s day and switching from one thing to another. It was only in a few cases that a pattern started that could be classed as a hobby.

Collecting things. Building scale models. Reading. All good, all honest, all enjoyable for me. And all of them strong enough to root themselves in my psyche so that I continued them into adulthood.

Add photography, once high school was reached, and it laid a foundation for not just a main hobby, but eventually a second career.

Now retirement has revived the scale model building and combined it with photography and writing in a reasonably-priced way to occupy time and mind. Had I been a sporter, it might have been golf or tennis or some other game. Had I a passion for numbers it might have been gambling – and a sure road to ruin. And had I not travelled as a young person I might be tempted to do it now – with all the horrors of a vagrant life.

I think I am lucky that the hobbies I have dropped on me, rather than others.