We’ve all got them. From the more serious political issues -Leave/Remain or Trump/Clinton to the more mundane – like how to clear out your phone memory of all that data quickly so you can take yet more selfies.

First world problems are a product of being at the very apex of Maslow’s hierarchy. We’re so far up there that we’re now just being a bit silly about what’s important for survival in our lives.

That’s not to say that the political process is silly – although it might feel like it just now. Not at all. But it is a bit soul destroying to hear a “young person” eligible to vote in the EU referendum saying he and his friends discussed it, but they didn’t understand it, so they just left it – meaning they didn’t bother to vote. I bet there’s a large number of people like them.

And so the consequences are all getting a bit silly.

But at a day-to-day practical level, here in the bubble of life in Houston, for many of the well-to-do “middle class” who live in relative luxury in large homes and enjoy a standard of living a good notch or two above the norm in the UK, the first world problems they have are, well, completely silly.

The recent ad on TV for internet services sums it up. In the ad the family have to do without the internet and they are seen falling apart in minutes before our eyes. And that’s kind of true to life.

AT&T commercial without internet

I have become a member of an online group which will remain nameless, to protect the membership. It’s actually a really useful group, people give recommendations, exchange information about our neighbourhood, ask questions about where to go for this that or the other.  All good stuff.

But a recommendation for botox – really? And there were over 20 replies to this.

Other “problems” people have are who to go to for laser hair removal, or recommendations for make up artists. High on the list are regular requests for recommendations for medical services – a concept really only relevant in the totally privatised healthcare system over here.  There’s a fair sprinkling of requests for restaurant recommendations – understandable in Houston where there are so many great places to try.

I also saw a request recently for a place to get “cool scrubs” – cos the husband was just so picky. Subtly informing everyone that her hubster was indeed a doctor.

Sometimes I feel a bit of despair that people feel the need to turn to social media for answers to the most basic questions. More often than not it amuses me. But it does make me think, how on earth did we manage before?

I can’t imagine how we managed to get our mobile phones up and running when they had been inadvertently washed along with the lingerie and socks. Oh wait a minute – we didn’t have mobile phones back in the day, did we. So we were probably totally unaware that some of our “problems” were indeed “problems” at all. We didn’t have a barrage of people asking our opinions or giving us theirs via social media.

It is a ghastly by-product of the EU referendum that every one and his dog has become an expert in all things political. Even when they clearly do not have a clue. Social media is awash with rudeness, polar opposing views clashing in tirades and rants with the (relative) protection that social media provides. You don’t have to look that person in the eye after all, you can just let your bile spill in to the comments box to be read by anyone who has the stomach.

I witnessed one such tirade between a “remainer” and a “leaver”. The remainer, I have to say, asked a perfectly polite and pertinent question of the leaver, give one specific example of a benefit of leaving the EU. The leaver just launched into a taunting personal attack on the remainer which quickly degenerated into tit-for-tat name calling.

Ghastly.

We’ve made the proverbial bed – but do we really have to lie down in it? Can’t we just go back a decade or more to the old days of European unity?

A couple of old “wifies” from a nameless town in England somewhere gave their sage opinion on the result of the EU referendum. “Really pleased. Now we can go back to the good old days.” they looked about 100 – so God know which good old days they were referring to – the Blitz maybe….?