My perfect weekend

We must revisit the past to figure out the future. We must relive key moments in our histories and do them differently this time around. Personally and collectively.

The Big Bang: would we do it again? Given the misery of the world, if we had the choice of a no-pain, no-joy, no-boredom, no-pressure, eternal unconscious non-state of non-being, would we clatter into existence or not? Yes. I’d rather be here and crying than not here at all. I must remind meself of that the next time I’m crying.

The Garden of Eden: would you eat the apple? Well, the mistake was not in eating the apple, but in putting the tree there in the first place. The fault was in the design, not the appetite. Being thrown out of paradise was a small price to pay for munching a lovely pink lady. Munching a lovely pink lady is paradise.

Once the people arrived, some awful things were set in motion, but we could change that. As a species, I suggest that we stay in Africa. No wandering around the world, becoming different colours. Instead, let’s all stay in the Congo, then we’d all be black, and there’d be no such thing as racism.

The problem then, of course, would be restlessness. Something has to happen, nature will not let us be.

Colonialisation, another scourge. Let’s go back in time and try to persuade the English, the Belgians, the French and the Spanish to do it a bit differently. Instead of travelling with flags and guns, this time we’d

do it with sandwiches and cake.

We look back and are amazed at the audacity and bull-headed arrogance of those countries that set off to conquer the world. What made them think that they were entitled to act that way? I wonder, in 300 years’ time, will we feel the same way about multinational corporations?

In my own life, what would I do? Go back and do me homework? No, I’d be bolder; I wouldn’t be afraid next time round.

“Where’s your homework, Tiernan?”

“Ah, come on now Sir, there’s more important things than that. Will we all go for a walk? It’s such a fine day, Sir, it’d be a shame to waste it sitting in here trying to memorise statistics about the production of coal in Belgium, and the beautiful sun blazing down on the gorgeous green fields all round us.”

All on the dole

If I could go back on me life, I would have stayed on the dole. I dream of a country where we’re all on the dole. It’s easily done. Just let the government take all the money that’s in the country and hand out a few quid to us each week. We get enough cash for teabags and jam, but the whole lot of us is just walking around, passing time and having chats. All debt is forgiven, and all houses are paid for. Wherever you’re living is yours. Now, if the house you’re in at the minute is too big or too small for you, tough titty. Isn’t it better to have it for nothing than be up to your goother in arrears?

In my Utopia, there’d be no mortgages or fast cars. There’d be no banks, no newspapers, no exams. I would have joined the priesthood, which, if you think about it, is like being on the holy dole. It basically boils down to a ‘here’s a few quid for being nice’ type of life. My children, of course, would still need to be born and Red Rosie, the wife, is a quare comfort to me at times, so, in spite of the vows of loneliness and conformity, I’d be lepping over the wall as often as possible to see her.

The type of priest that I would like to have been is one without a parish; a floating priest, pedalling about on a High Nelly with gears and a soft seat. Calling into houses, hearing confession and drinking whiskey, before heading out into the garden to fall asleep in a tree.

I would have grown me beard a lot sooner. A beard is a wonderful thing. A great place to hide sweets, and stroking it is like hanging around with a calm dog all day. I should have had one from about the age of five, sitting in junior infants like a tiny Karl Marx, looking out the window and dreaming of freedom.

I also would have taken up smoking cigars around then as well. It forces a person to slow down, and is good for getting rid of midges. Now, I mightn’t have made full forward on the Simonstown Under-8 mini-league team on account of the decreased lung capacity, but I’d say I still could have played in goal. Leaning against the post, looking at the sky and dreaming of freedom…

By rearranging the past, we figure out the future. I’d better go and write this article, so. I’ll do it differently this time round…