My one rule in life – actually, I have more than one, but the rest, including that books should be categorised by the colour of their jacket cover rather than by author, or that socks should ideally match trousers and tie, shouldn’t be shown in public – is to anticipate, even expect life to be disappointing.

Which it essentially is because there is a huge gap between what we sow and what we reap.

We sow increasingly high expectations. Stories of people who became overnight millionaires by selling nothing or because they invented something using a pair of tweezers and an empty cereal box fuzz us with the illusion that we can all do it. And the message, coming from a thousand and one virtual pulpits, is that we are all clever, that we all have potential, that we really deserve more because, well, life owes us, and that we are all blessed with greatness.

I eventually managed to lose my date because she was wearing a black and white chequered dress and dancing on a black and white chequered dancefloor

Sadly, we’re not. Enter, stage right: disappointment. It’s like your first date, right? You thought it would be as light and flowery as that scene from Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, but then it turned out to be a closer resemblance to an episode of Arvingerne: dragging, some good acting (you don’t want that on a date), and long conversations in a language you don’t understand.

My first date, for instance, should be turned into a manual and given to young people the moment they become of legal age. I turned up late and with no money (one day I’ll tell you what happened), the date was actually the original date’s second best friend (the original date was presumably too busy with other dates), and I eventually managed to lose my date because she was wearing a black and white chequered dress and dancing on a black and white chequered dancefloor (it was the 1990s but our hang-out hadn’t outgrown the 1980s).

So, the moral of the story is don’t expect great things because you will be disappointed. And then you’ll just spend the rest of your days trying to sweeten the sour dregs of disappointment with consoling-pat-on-the-back aphorisms such as that money doesn’t buy you happiness, or that tomorrow is another day.

There’s another moral: think twice before buying the SensorWake alarm clock. French inventor Guillaume Rolland has come up with an alarm clock that wakes you up from your slumber with the smell of freshly brewed espresso or a hot buttery croissant, depending on the odour capsule of your choice.

Sounds like a good idea but it actually isn’t because there is no greater disappointment than waking up expecting to find a hot breakfast but then realising that it’s just a chemical dream.

techeditor@timesofmalta.com