Examine my thoughts

The following extracts are from The Blind Eye: A Book of Late Advice:

Please don’t be misled by the apparent self-certainty of these utterances; be assured that after each one I nervously delete the words but that’s probably just me, right . . .

I can see exactly what not to do at the moment. No doubt through the usual process of elimination I’ll arrive at my favourite strategy of total paralysis.

With your back to the wall, always pay a compliment. Even your mugger or torturer is not immune to flattery, and still capable of being a little disarmed by a word of congratulation on their choice of footwear or superior technique.

I realise whatever slight physical appeal I may once have possessed has long faded, but I should have put more store by it at the time: I foolishly believed I might rely on my personality a little longer.

His song was going so well, until I heard him express himself. Then I knew I could never play the track again, as I’d spend all my time in anticipatory dread of that one note.

His friendship was index-linked to my popularity, and would cool and warm and cool again in the course of a single evening. Immediately after one fortuitous but rather spectacular witticism, he offered me the use of his villa in the Turks and Caicos. Alas, I was fatally emboldened by this small success, and by the time the coffee had arrived he had forgotten my name again.

It appeared clear from his letters and emails that this saintly individual was a petty and embittered monster. Then it later emerged, from the testimony of his close friends, that he was nothing of the sort, and capable of many discreet and time-consuming acts of charity.