I think of myself as a pretty conscientious bloke. I open doors for people and I say 'thank you' to those who open doors for me. I let people into a line of traffic if I can see they've been waiting for a long time. Conversely I don't have time for thoughtless people.
And I do my job to the best of my ability too. I'm not perfect, and sometimes I'll err. I reckon I make a pretty good fist of things most of the time but I don't like it if I get stuff wrong. It vexes me.
Then there are the many problems of the world. Wars, pestilence, economic upheaval, the smoking ban.
But there are occasions when all the worries of modern life pale into insignificance. I'm sure we've all had them; those moments when something occurs that means whatever's going on elsewhere simply doesn't matter.
I had one such experience last night; I took my 10 year-old son to his first 'proper' rock concert.
Now my lad has seen me play in a band in a pub in South East London - and (cue shameless plug) he'll see me play in the same band yet again on Saturday, December 12, at the same boozer, the Old Tiger's Head in Lee, and yes, the more the merrier!
But last night, well that was different. I took him to see Deep Purple.
OK, it wasn't the original line-up. Only Gillan, Glover and Paice remain from the halcyon era of Mk 2 Purple. But my boy was oblivious to this. All he wanted to do was groove along to 'Highway Star' or 'Space Truckin'' or, of course, 'Smoke On The Water'.
I was in seventh heaven; taking my boy to see my favourite band. I hadn't dragged him along either. He wanted to go. I'd already made him a CD of the band's best tunes and he'd listened to it avidly in the car whenever we drove anywhere. Songs like 'Fireball' and 'Strange Kind Of Woman' became instilled in his brain. He could hum all of 'Woman From Tokyo' from start to finish. Marvellous.
And so last night off we went. We stopped off for a Maccy D's before entering the hallowed lobby of the Odeon, and as I ushered him in I recalled some of the gigs I'd been to there in my youth. And here I was, 30 years later, taking my son to his first one in the place.
I can't describe the feeling it gave me. It was an experience that money just couldn't buy - apart from the £70 I paid for our tickets, natch'. I hope it made a lasting impact on him too, so that in years to come he'll remember his introduction to 'proper' live music.
The band started with 'Highway Star', which was perfect. And as they launched into the open bars of 'Strange Kind Of Woman' I gave my boy a fatherly hug and I grinned at him. And he grinned back. And then I sang the opening line to him in time with Ian Gillan: "There once was a woman/a strange kind of woman/the kind that gets a-written down in history."
And as I sang those lines to my boy he looked up at me and with an honesty that only children can muster he said: "Your breath stinks Dad."
Kids eh? Don'tcha just love 'em?