IT could be said that where Albert Einstein had his 'theory of relativity', Devonians are imbued with the philosophy of negativity — basically, large numbers of us are pessimistic in outlook. This could, to a degree, be due to the fact that we dwell in a large, predominantly rural county, with a majority of the population living outside of cities and large towns; thus the innate caution and reserve of the countryman and woman comes to the fore — especially amongst those native to the county.

Their view is that the sensible way to negotiate the obstacle course which is life is to hope for the best, but expect the worst. This somewhat jaundiced outlook is reflected in phraseology and habits which are still practised widely throughout the county — one based upon the feeling that negativity is the dominant force which guides our lives, possibly our destiny.

Prime examples of this were to be seen a few years back painted upon the walls of a local hostelry. The landlord, originally from 'up country', adapted rapidly to local, rural life and derived pleasure from the independence of word, thought and spirit of his collection of regulars, many of whom were farmers. He became so fascinated with the original, sometimes profound, occasionally daft comments they made, that he inscribed them around the bar for all to see.

A wide range of memorable, at times hilarious, quotes were included in this delightful 'library' —so many marinated in a gloomy philosophy.

Possibly the pick of this captivating cluster was a question posed to 'mine host' by a weather beaten local son of the soil — 'yer boy, ee don't know nobody what don't want no 'ay do'ee?' When the enquiry is analysed it becomes apparent — though not easily — that the gent is asking, simply, if the landlord knows of anybody seeking to purchase hay. By posing the query in such a negative way, he is but assuming, pessimistically, that the man behind the bar will be unable to help him; he was correct.

Similar anticipation of failure was encompassed in an enquiry made to myself recently at my place of work; a fellow, clearly a Devon man, asked me (as I sat at my desk close to the technology section, merely 'watching the store', the experts at lunch) — 'yer, 'ee don't know nothing about computers do 'ee?' Once more this pessimistic assumption was accurate, even though the sign upon the door suggested the opposite; for he was confronted by, possibly, the daftest man in Britain in technical matters. Thus was I able to reassure him that, indeed, I am ignorant of them, totally. He went away somewhat mollified that his negative approach had been justified.

Then there was the lady who entered a local village post office (sadly, an ever rarer facility), enquiring of the post mistress — 'I don't s'pose you sell stamps?' She was informed by the owner, with some acerbity (she had experienced a trying day), that seeing as 'post office' was inscribed over the premises in letters some two feet high, the deductive powers of 'Simple Simon' would be more than sufficient to reach the conclusion that the sale of stamps was amongst the services provided — or words to that effect.

Now, those of the 'glass half full' view of life might well argue such negativity can lead only to unhappiness amongst its devotees. Pessimists, though, could well opine the opposite — such an approach to life could ensure the avoidance of discontent. For example, the farmer whose words were emblazoned on the pub wall was anticipating there would be no demand for his 'ay'; thus when such proved to be the case, he was only mildly dismayed. On the other hand, the publican might have said that he did know of a potential buyer for the dried grass; thus the purveyor would have covered the dual options admirably — if there was no buyer he would avoid the despondency or sense of failure over anticipation there might be, whilst if there was, it would prove a happy, pleasing surprise. Likewise with the computer and stamps; the potential customers did not expect their desires to be fulfilled, so their varying fortunes would have been accepted with aplomb.

That perceptive writer and poet, Rudyard Kipling, wrote that those with wisdom and strong character could meet with triumph and disaster and 'treat those two impostors just the same'. He would have been impressed at the great numbers of Devonians who, with their shrewd adherence to negativity, live, to some extent, by that creed.