WE ARE told what not to do so often these days that sometimes it seems we are in danger of being dulled to death.

Don't eat this or drink that, but do have at least five of these a day. Don't smoke that in public or drink more than three units of that. And whatever you do, don't sprinkle salt on top of anything.

Switch off this, don't fly in that, conserve this, don't throw that bit of rubbish in that bin but use the other one instead.

Don't overfill the kettle; do turn off the lights (and keep plasters handy for limbs grazed in the dark); don't turn up the heating unless the icicles are about to drop from your nose.

Sometimes all these rules can tie a person in knots.

Anyone attempting to follow all the health and environmental advice they are given today would quickly find themselves chewing their fingernails while sitting at the top of the loony chute, ready for the downwards ride.

Guilt buffets us from all sides. Even a simple cup of tea or coffee becomes a matter of conscience.

Is the tea or coffee Fair Trade, and is the milk organic? And that milk, should it be there at all? Not according to City of York councillor Paul Blanchard, who wrote to this newspaper to explain why he now swears off milk and dairy produce. His announcement prompted a page full of letters from the previously unnoticed anti-milk brigade.

Well, I come with a conscience of sorts attached, but I'm not joining Paul on his vegan diet.

Black coffee is bearable, black tea less so, and a person can only drink so many of the mint teas his wife recommends. But just think what vegans miss out on, especially all that lovely cheese, from tangy and hard to squishy and blue, tart white yoghurt, soured cream, ice cream, and all the rest.

With so many rules and recommendations tying us down, all we can do is pick our way through as best we can.

The new smoking ban suits me, because I don't - and because I hate that rank dead tobacco smell.

One day soon, I'll make one of my occasional visits to a pub to breathe deeply of the newly fresh air while consuming the recommended night-out allowance of two-and-a-half pints (as recommended by the inside of my ache-averse head).

Too much alcohol may be bad for you, but a nice glass or two of wine or a Friday night tot of malt whisky is good for me, I'm sure of that.

Same with exercise: too much is bad for the knees, or certainly my knees, but nothing beats getting a sweat up while running or cycling.

Or the righteous after-glow that comes later, usually just before deciding that a fat-laden biscuit or two plucked from the tin has been worth the preliminary effort.

Moderation in most things suits in the end, although it doesn't always make for an exciting life.

Nowadays, even entertainment comes with a lecture attached. Last weekend saw Live Earth, the global rock extravaganza organised by US politician Al Gore, in which rock stars flew about the globe in private jets in order to lecture the rest of us on the dangers of global warming.

Will this massive event have done any good? Who knows. I'm no climate change denier, by the way.

It's just that combating global warming seems to be another example of the earnest people winning the argument, and then berating the rest of us with even more rules and recommendations.

Flying, now the new anti-green enemy, was once, not long ago historically, a modern marvel wrought by man's ingenuity.

Thanks to the democracy of demand, it then became available to almost anyone. Now we're being warned off flying.

All this is enough to push me towards a nice mug of coffee, with milk (sorry, Paul).

And, yes, my conscience of sorts does nag me into always buying Fair Trade coffee. Hopefully, it does some good, although my new allegiance to Fair Trade bananas was shaken by reports of shocking staff abuse at a British warehouse where many of the bananas were packed.

It gets harder and harder to know whether we are doing right or wrong. Thankfully, there is always some busybody on hand to let us know.