Songs of the not-so innocent

Let me get a quick word in. This isn't the Manchester United he left in 2008. This isn't the Ronaldo the club bid adieu to more than a decade ago either. Both have changed. Both are different. Ole is not Sir Alex. The club has struggled to repeat its glory years a la the 2000s. Ronaldo's aura is still bright but not as incandescent as before. He's in better shape at 36 than most of us will ever be in our lives and yet he's 12 years older. Okay, he scored a lot of goals at Juventus, but Ronaldo hasn't picked up major honours/titles since leaving Madrid. The Italian job wasn't as successful as he and the team would have wanted. (*Edit: I was wrong. See PPS) Heck, Dybala may just have heaved the biggest sigh of relief in Italy because Ronaldo has a tendency to eclipse everyone else in the team. Kind of like Messi, but not in the Argentine's cunningly understated manner. Ronaldo's voracious appetite for personal success is as subtle as an uppercut.    ...

I recently made a bizarre personal discovery. By which I mean that it's probably common knowledge for the rest of you but new news on Planet G.  Radios have gone completely missing from brick & mortar stores. Why in Beelzebub's name do you need one, you ask? The father is hankering for a radio. Not just any fiddly variety but one which has a clock feature as well. A decade ago, in one of his occasional Marie Kondo moments, our clock radio, in perfect working condition of course, was shown the exit. Now, father can't find the right one for love or money. A piece by Sony which came close is only available at a price that suggests it should be able to pick up radio stations on Jupiter. Now cease and desist with the "tch" and eye-rolling for a minute and hear me out. There are 6+ stations on the FM band in this city and many more across the country. Surely that's enough customers to keep manufacturing radios? On the other hand, an irritatingly learned friend i...

I started writing this on Friday, the 6th of August but couldn't find the clarity of thought or right words to communicate my feelings. Now, a week or so later, I'm giving it another go.  The Friday was the last day of my 2-year stint at yet another advertising agency. It was only the second time I was voluntarily walking away from a job and the previous incident took place 7 years ago with me very much on the right side of 30. Then, it was a case of choosing to live, eat and sleep normally after a horrible year of work. Earlier that year (2014) I'd actually pushed myself to take a pay cut and move into mainline advertising from healthcare. 11 months later, I didn't care if I ever worked in advertising again, so disheartened was I by the whole game. It took a 2.5 year stint with a good team and a great (eccentric) boss before it felt like I'd turned a corner. Yet, watching the clock tick over to 6:30 pm, I couldn't even fake a smidgen of regret about what was my...