People are dividers into ‘fussers’ and ‘non fussers’. ‘Fussers’ can’t tell you whether they want tea or coffee. They let you choose where to walk, where to eat and what to do on a day off. When you ask them to call round they insist that it’s their turn, even though you asked first. And anyway who’s counting? They sit down on your chair and worry if it was your favourite chair. They are always asking you how you feel when you haven’t thought about it. They have you wondering what you should be feeling. They ring you up before an event and ask you what you are wearing. They can’t choose what to eat on a menu. When their choice arrives – something like omelette – they decide they would have preferred yours. They are always trying to second guess your intentions when you only ever had one intention. They drive you mad. They think they are taking your needs into consideration when really they are being totally and utterly non-assertive and tedious.
When one of the girls describe someone they have met and say ‘Oh he/she is a fusser… ‘ no more explanation is needed. You know exactly what they are like. No questions needed. They are the people that health warnings are aimed at. Their children are kept indoors on cold days and warm days. They would never send them out without breakfast or brushed hair. Or let them roam with other children on a campsite. Or even allow them to go to town unaccompanied in case they came into contact with undesirables.
Fussers are probably over-insured, so fearful they are. They drive slowly. They drink decaf.
My Mum was definitely not a fusser although it might have saved her life if she had realised that her ‘heart burn’ was a ‘heart attack’. We ‘non fussers’ find it hard to take most things seriously. Illnesses and phobias are kept hidden. We are the most unsympathetic of friends and family. Injuries get plasters even when they need stitches. Those with broken ankles can still carry a suitcase… Man flu is derided. Stoicism is exalted.