I was hoping not to be drawn into this, but I have been. Some Bermuda bloggers have stopped blogging, because, they argue, taking an opposing view is counter-productive. I completely disagree, and I am not about to stop calling 'em as I see 'em.

What may be counter-productive is simply setting yourself up in opposition to the government of the day. A group exists to do that; they're called the Opposition. What is definitely not counter-productive is making suggestions for the betterment of Bermuda, whether they happen to be in synch with Government thinking or not.

I don't want to live in a country where dissent is banned, and, believe me, nor do you. I like living in a country where heart-felt views are openly stated, respecting the other person's point of view. Bermuda is such a country. Nothing has changed.

Not everyone agrees with everything I say, and nor do I want them to. I have argued loud and strong against Government Ministers of both major parties in their time, but I never make the assumption that they are fools or nutters (occasional evidence to the contrary).

The day dissent is not permitted in Bermuda, from Bermudians or anyone else, will be a sad day indeed. Until then - and I think it's a long way off, if ever - if you have an opinion, state it. Do so in a constructive manner, and do so with respect, and you'll be doing everyone a favour. No one is perfect: not journalists, not Government Ministers and not you or me. But all of us have something to say, and all of us should feel free to say it.

That's it. Smoke if you've got 'em, and if you're outdoors.

* * *

Last week, on the very day that Martha Myron was suggesting that we de-clutter our lives, I was doing just that. Being a single man, I have never paid much attention to the state of my home.

I live in a dump, which is now a condemned dump, thanks to the landlord's plans to knock it all down and build condos for Americans. (It's the new Bermuda spirit, my friends: the hell with each other, let's focus on the money.)

Over the years, my apartment acquired a squalid interior tone that matched its squalid exterior tone. Although the bulldozers will soon enough be on the way, I thought it might be an exciting experiment to spend my last few days or weeks without quite so much filth.

I hired Marshall's Maintenance to come in and make it all lovely, or at least clean. It's a tiny one-bedroomed apartment, a Unabomber shack really, so I was a little taken aback at the asking price for cleaning it up, $800, but figured that if that's what it cost, that's what it cost.

Sometimes, when you try to start a project, all you see are obstacles. But nothing gets done if you give in to the obstacles. So I sucked it up, put off a trip I had been hoping to take, and told Marshall's to let rip.

In preparation, I carted out several piles of junk that had accumulated. Two or three further piles remain. Out with them went all the excuses that had also accumulated for not dealing with this sooner.

It was an act of faith. I had no idea what the end result would be, other than the fact that the place would be cleaner. I applied duct tape to the walls where the mould is, and to the floorboards where a tiler suggested that I spend $8,000 to cover a few square feet of ugly boards. The duct tape cost rather less than that.

Marshall's came in, but I lacked the heart to watch them attack my nest. I returned several hours later to a sort of wonderland. For one thing, the amount of light now pouring in - that wonderful Bermuda light unlike any other, anywhere — was extraordinary.

It so happens that, being of vampiric origins, I don't like light. A spot of creative painting of the windows ought to deal with that. We had shutters once, but now we don't.

Oddly, Marshall's broke almost everything they touched: the toilet, the phone, the bathroom door, the statuette of the back-up singer, the stand on which sits an absurd pipe given to "Cromdalf the Grey", etc. etc. It was probably just the dirt holding everything together. But, just as Martha said, a greater number of positives emerged.

Quoting someone else, she wrote: "Homes are becoming storage facilities, not centres of light, serenity and stability." How utterly true, in my case. The light was affected by the dirt through which it tried to shine; serenity was not possible because of my perpetual mould-induced cough; and the only stability I had was how much I hated my home and my landlord.

"The basic fabric of people's lives is being negatively impacted by how we relate to the things we have and the things we own", Martha wrote. Darn tootin', they say, which I gather means "correct".

"We are at the centre of an orgy of consumption," she wrote. I've never been to an orgy. I used to regret the omission. On thinking about it, though, I concluded that I wouldn't have enjoyed one anyway. All those other people, all naked, urgh. I am not a great consumer of things, but my apartment was chock-full of them a year ago, when I began the process of reducing my footprint.

I had seven bookcases full of stuff; now I have four. I had, at a conservative estimate, a bazillion old magazines, now I have only 0.01 bazillion (some things are of value and should be retained). Under the bed was an encyclopaedia of which I have an exact copy installed in my computer. In short, exactly as Martha forecast, everything seems lighter and better.

It is in the nature of change to deliver exactly the opposite of what you hope for. No doubt, even as I write this, plans are afoot in all the various agencies that dictate my life to have me removed from the premises, the country and probably the planet.

But even if I don't make it to next week, I will for a brief period have enjoyed what for me is the utter luxury of living in a clean pace, with minimal clutter. It all boils down to two things.

One, when Martha Myron writes something, you'd better believe it. And two, if you see me on the street, do not call me Cromdalf, or I'll set the orcs on you.

* * *

In reference to last week's column, when I suggested that now was a good time to invest in the stock market, a reader wrote: "For once, I disagree with your advice. There's an old tenet, 'Buy on the way up and sell on the way down', which I've tried to follow for many years.

"Your readers would do better to wait until a stock bottoms and starts climbing than to invest on the way down. I proved this myself last month by increasing my holding in Berkshire Hathaway B shares that I bought on what I thought to be an overnight reversal. Now they're down by 12 percent in four short weeks!

"I have no doubt they'll recover but this does illustrate my point."

That's good thinking. When I said "buy" what I meant was "transfer the money to your manager and let him or her decide when is the right moment to buy". Then, all you can do is to hope that your manager follows this reader's entirely sound advice.