Sinatra’s “New York, New York” is a really stupid song.

Take the line…

“Regrets? I’ve had a few. But then again…too few to mention.”

If they’re too few to mention, Frankie baby, why bother to mention them?

Yes, you’re right. I’m feeling grumpy.

I’ve been wondering whether I’ve always made the right decisions in my life, whilst secretly knowing I haven’t.

Because nobody goes through life without making wrong decisions. That’s what makes us human.

Well, that and staring out of our front room window on rainy autumn afternoons, jangling the loose change in our pockets while commenting on the shoddy job the neighbours across the road made of trimming their front hedge.

I regret the time I was distracted by a telephone call as I took an iceberg lettuce out of the fridge. I placed the lettuce on the kitchen table, ran into the hall to take the ‘phone call and 15 minutes later I was horrified to see the iceberg had rolled off the table and fallen onto – and destroyed – my recently-completed, freshly-painted, delicately-constructed model kit of HMS Titanic.

A prime example of history repeating itself – albeit in miniature and in my kitchen, rather than the frozen North Atlantic.

With BHS in the news – and not in a good way – I regret the changes that have occurred in our town centres. We’ve lost C&A, Blockbusters, Woolworths, Berni Inns, Dolcis, Our Price, Past Times, Barratts . . . and many more. To be replaced in the main by pound shops, charity shops and cash-for-gold shops.

There’s also been a rise in barber shops owned by and catering for young men with hairstyles so severe they look like a deranged sheep-shearer was let loose on them, leaving just a tuft on top . . . out of spite. When I was a kid, barbers were ‘Brilliantined’ old men in brown overalls containing enough static electricity to power a small village.

Having learned their trade in the army, they only knew one style – and it wasn’t flattering!

But they took great pride in their premises and swept them clean – inside and out – several times a day. From what I’ve witnessed, today’s young barbers prefer to stand outside their shops, texting and smoking, littering the pavement with cigarette ends and their presence.

Not an ideal way to entice new customers.

I’d promise not to be so grumpy next week . . . but I might regret it.