Choosing your hobby is the easiest part.
The term is flexible and can be applied to almost any obsession. For no matter how obscure this might be, there
are always other like-minded enthusiasts with whom you can share it.
While most hobbies give you instant access to an exclusive club, they are,
however, often solitary activities, ones which require stoicism and single-mindedness,
patience and strength of character.
 Think of the lonely endurance of the trainspotter on a
windswept platform. Think of the long, silent
vigil of the birdwatcher up a tree. Or the fisherman wading in cold mud.
The choice of a hobby is a deeply personal affair. One person’s heaven could easily be another
person’s hell. And let’s face it:
most of us would have to be talked through the thrills of tarantula breeding or the
delights of macramé or line dancing (sorry if I've trod on your particular hobby's toes).
Hobbies involving a quest or gathering of trophies have, to my mind, a more
universal appeal. In them, we see
man-the-hunter, man-the-predator in action. Here,
the exhilaration lies in the chase, in the tracking down of that rare stamp, beer mat or
miniature teaset.
Some hobbies arouse suspicion in the
bystander, because of their secretive nature. This
is accentuated by the fact that so many seem to be carried out in dank garages or garden
sheds, dim sanctums of junk, cobwebs, peculiar smells and unobserved tinkerings. The secret raptures, which take place in their
gloom, are matters of pure speculation.
The presence of antiquated machinery renders the scene even more intriguing. How can so much love and attention be lavished on
an old lawnmower or a clapped-out car? I can't help feeling that there is something
vaguely indecent about all that rubbing with soft cloths, all that tweaking of spark plugs
and fiddling with sprockets, all those libations of oil and other foul-smelling fluids. But perhaps that's just my own warped mind at
work.
I can 't help feeling that all
this is protracted foreplay, and the final consummation is when the recalcitrant loved-one
splutters to life with violent judderings and belchings of rancid smoke.
 But not all hobbies are as arcane as this.
Some aim to bring family members together. Bridge
pairs spring to mind, although many a happy marriage has foundered because of misleading
bidding. As does the example of the heroic
family who set about building a small sailing boat in their living room. Unfortunately,
they ended up with what looked like the Mayflower and couldn’t get it out of the
house. Still, family bonds were no doubt made
stronger as a result – even if it did have something to do with superglue.
People occasionally use the term hobby in a derogatory way. ‘Oh, it’s just his/her little
hobby,’ they will say with a dismissive sneer. True
aficionados know better. There is nothing
half-hearted about a hobby. At times, some of
us even fantasise about going back to work. At
least, you get weekends and holidays off in a job.
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