I’ve really had it with those magazine which ask me whether I’m, ‘on the road to self-discovery’ yet.

No. I am not on the road to self-discovery.

Most of the time, I’m not even sure I’m on any road at all, apart from – perhaps - the road to self-delusion.

I’m normally in the hedgerow, trying not to get impaled on the thorns.

Or in the Little Chef toilet on the M40... or tucking in to a big breakfast there.

What does this mystical ‘self-discovery’ look like, anyway?

I imagine it as some kind of Elysium, where the air is cleaner than in washing detergent advertisements, and everybody’s smiling... all the time.

Or, perhaps there’s nobody but you present so it’s a wasteland utopia; plenty of sun, sea and self but nobody around to rub the sun lotion on your back.

The point is, World: stop telling me that I should be desperately seeking self-discovery.

In my experience the more introspective I am, the more alone and depressed I feel.

I find that it’s in the doing of things, very often with other people involved, that we humans flourish.

It’s good to know thyself – but don’t make it your sole purpose.

Knowing yourself should be something you learn along the way as you experience plenty of other selves.

A little like the M40.

If you were just looking at the tarmac the whole time you wouldn’t get very far.

Or you’d crash pretty quickly.

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