Monday

It’s right up there among the worst moments of my life. On the way home from a night out at the opera – a first-rate, if not stellar, production of Verdi’s Simone Boccanegra – the Northern line tube train was crowded. Rather gracelessly, my wife pushed me aside and made a beeline for the only available seat. Just as I was glorying in my heroic selflessness, a young man of about 30 got up to offer me the priority seat for elderly and disabled passengers. At first I blanked him, unable to believe he was actually talking to me. But he wouldn’t give up and asked again if I would like the seat. I hastily said I was fine, that I was only travelling a couple of stops but – through gritted teeth – thank you so much anyway. It then turned into a face-off. He kept insisting and I kept saying I was fine where I was, until I caved in and sat down. My wife looked at me and burst out laughing. I just wanted to disappear. I am now officially that old person to whom the more polite offer their seats. That person I somehow never thought I would ever be. It’s all downhill from here.

Tuesday

I’ve come to realise that Brexit is completely taking over my life. It’s the last thing on my mind when I go to bed, gives me anxiety dreams while I’m asleep and is the first thing I think of when I wake up. As soon as I open my eyes, it’s now instinctive for me to reach for my phone to check my emails and news feeds to find out if anyone has resigned or done something idiotic overnight.

Every day the stupidity bar seems to get lowered. Today, the government – under duress – finally released its economic impact assessments of various Brexit options, which prompted the surreal experience of the chancellor appearing on every media outlet to inform the world it was now government policy to make the entire country less well off than it would have otherwise been. To further confuse everyone, it then became clear that the government had modelled its Chequers’ plan, which had long since been rejected by the EU, and failed to produce any forecasts on its revised plans on the grounds there were so many variables it would have been impossible. While all this was going on, there were on-off reports of plans for a televised debate between Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn. Haven’t people had enough of them at PMQs? There should definitely be a referendum to decide on giving them more airtime.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest By Gove, he’s got it! Brexit has become the stuff of nightmares. Photograph: Amer Ghazzal/Rex/Shutterstock

Wednesday

Frankie & Benny’s has become the first such chain to implement a ban on mobiles. For a one-week trial period, customers will be invited to deposit their phones in a box by the door, so they can spend their time talking to one another rather than staring at their screens. As an incentive, Frankie & Benny’s will be offering free meals for kids – though stopped short of offering relationship counsellors to mediate conversations between families that have only been held together through silence.

For those who are struggling to think of things to say to one another, I can thoroughly recommend a game I used to play with my children in restaurants back in the day, when nobody bothered to look at their phones because they barely functioned. Even as just a phone. The game was this. I would test my children on capitals of the world and for every one they got wrong I would stab them in the hand with a toothpick. Sadly, it proved a rather ineffective learning technique and Anna and Robbie are still fairly clueless on their capital cities. But it has become a family ritual, and we often still play the game when we go out. Happy days.

Thursday

During a debate in the Commons to mark World Aids Day, Lloyd Russell-Moyle, the Labour MP for Brighton Kemptown, revealed he was HIV positive. It was a brave and moving speech, after which his fellow Labour MPs broke with tradition and stood up to applaud him. The half dozen or so Conservative MPs who were in the chamber rather charmlessly remained seated and silent. It wasn’t a great look. But the occasion was also a reminder of the huge medical advances that have been made in the past 30 years.

Back in the 80s and the early 90s, a diagnosis of HIV positive was a death sentence and several friends I knew in Narcotics Anonymous died of the disease. It was a harrowing and heartbreaking time, because they and I knew they were in effect dead men walking. It made friendship much more loaded. I also felt a peculiar sense of guilt that it was them who would die while I, who had taken exactly the same risks, managed to escape infection. Two friends just couldn’t cope with their diagnosis and killed themselves.

Now though, given access to the right medicines, Aids is a manageable condition and my children’s generation scarcely give it a second thought. Even diagnosis is easier. You can now get a diagnosis in minutes. When I was tested in 1987, it took a week to get the results. Seven days in which I barely slept because of anxiety. So take time out on World Aids Day to remember and be grateful.

Friday

Back In September, Mandie Stevenson, a woman with terminal breast cancer, accidentally ticked the box marked “yes” to the question: “Do you seek to engage in or have you ever engaged in terrorist activities, espionage, sabotage, or genocide?” on her visa waiver form before a planned trip to New York. Her application was rejected and it took two interviews with officials at the US embassy in London before she was granted a visa. By which time she had missed the flight she had booked and was out of pocket by £800.

Now it turns out that a Scottish man has made the same mistake – with the same consequences. If only the US authorities had been quite so vigilant when Mohammed Atta and the rest of his terrorist cell had ticked “yes” to the same question, then presumably the 9/11 attacks could have been averted. Then again, maybe when they arrived in the US the terrorists were still unsure whether the attacks would go ahead and ticked “no” to be on the safe side. Perhaps in future, the waiver form should include a third “don’t know” option.

It would certainly help me out when I’m asked to fill in questions about my health on official forms. Particularly my mental health, as I’m never entirely sure how much detail is required. To give a fully truthful response would require someone to read through several thick folders of medical notes. This week I had an appointment with my psychiatrist, whom I have been seeing for 20 years or so along with my therapist. After I told him about the amount of work I had to undertake – I have four books to write as well as the day job – he asked me: “Are you mad?” Before I had a chance to reply, he hastily corrected himself. “Of course you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Digested week, digested: Friends without benefits