The nature of a conversation I had with a stranger on the beach this morning would make young folks cringe or possibly cry. Rumple, who rather likes people more than dogs, went up to the bloke who was probably a bit older than me. Winkle, who likes her ball above just about anything else ignored the bloke until she decided Rumple may have been getting too much attention. She pushed her way in. "Oh, you've come to say hello too," the bloke said. "Yeah, she suffers badly from Fear of Missing Out," I said. "Chronic case of FOMO this one," I added. He nodded wisely. "It's a strong driver that FOMO." What? Two old people engaging in text speak in public. How embarrassing. This afternoon it was less Fo-Mo and more Fo-am. The wind had picked up and the sea was frothing. It wasn't swimming weather that's for sure. I'm not sure it was even that great for kite surfers but a couple of keen or crazy blokes were giving it a go. I watched them and realised the chance of me ever trying the sport, especially in conditions like today was less that zero. Clearly I don't suffer from FOMO. I'm pretty sure the only thing I'd be missing out on would be becoming a drowning statistic. I may sometimes adopt the lingo of the young but they can keep their activities to themselves. 
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