The Real Lord Of The Flies

I awoke this morning to discover I had been sent the same link to an article by two different people. Interestingly enough they both share the same birthday just to add an extra layer of intrigue. This then is an article in the Guardian about ‘the real Lord Of The Flies‘; as they describe the story of six boys in the 1970s who found themselves stranded on a small island off Tonga for eighteen months. Incidentally I mentioned William Golding, the author of the dystopian novel that inspired the article, just the other day when I discussed one of his plays. The Lord Of The Flies is a great story, and like others I found his ability to get inside the psyche of these boys and explore the depths of human behaviour remarkable. It helped he was a Headmaster at a school, and according to this article a depressed alcoholic who sometimes beat his own kids. It suddenly becomes clearer why he had such little faith in the fictional children he created working together towards any kind of positive outcome. They really were the naughty little archetypal child of his time, this being the 1950s.

The article is quite interesting though because it raises the prospect that in fact the inevitable outcome of such a scenario is not death and destruction as these kids from the real version proved. Over the course of their eighteen stranded months they managed to exist in their own structured, disciplined and harmonious little world. They worked together and despite some serious incidents managed to all survive intact and healthy. The article is adapted from a new book by Rutger Bregman called Humankind, he previously wrote the relatively well known Utopia For Realists which I haven’t read but I hear is very good. He is attempting to change the narrative to one that shows “how much stronger we are if we can lean on each other” than the tired old one which convinces us we’re a destructive animal destined to ultimately destroy ourselves. There are and continue to be many stories out there of us working together when required, and the fact we have survived this far shows we must have been and still are capable of this cooperation.

It is important to mention though that clearly society is full of psychopaths and all it would take is for one person in the group to adopt that position for events to take another turn, as Lord Of The Flies demonstrates. In many cases then it turns out luck plays a defining role, the luck of who else you would find yourself stranded with. Perhaps if we knew a little more about how to handle such situations, to resolve a destructive element, we may be a little better prepared but how to do that is beyond my limited knowledge. Still narratives clearly can and need to be redrawn if we are ever to come together and survive as a species to benefit of all life on earth. Perhaps it’s time to see whether we can feasibly translate one of these micro examples onto the world at large.

Life’s Twists & Turns

I was going to talk about something important, as always, but I’m currently wallowing in the post breakfast euphoria of this…

Focaccia eggy bread, with blue cheese, wild smoked salmon and a ‘garnish’ of rocket

I’m so painfully middle class I’m not even fighting it anymore. I also managed to remember that I was going to talk about different and uncontrollable paths in life. I realised last night that had this virus not become a thing I would have just been departing an Easyjet flight from Edinburgh to Athens, ready to say hello to some old faces and getting excited about a summer sailing around Greek islands drinking beer and wine, and eating too much of the world’s best cuisine. Yes I just made that statement. But that was what could have been.

I’m currently making pizzas as previously mentioned. This won’t go on forever and the lifting of lockdown will have an affect upon it but at most it’ll be a summer gig until the schools go back and the tourists disappear. This was never meant to be the plan as I said but it’s just what I’m doing now. Maybe in July I’ll have had enough of it and realise I’m wasting my time but that is something for future me to deal with. The point is that we clearly can’t control life’s ever evolving patterns. We can influence certain elements of it but let’s be honest in most things we’re pretty powerless. If you can’t sail, you just do something else. You meet other people, make other bonds. And you go with that and see what happens.

The truth is that while undeniably I’m longing for a holiday sitting on a beach somewhere in the sun and waking up whenever it pleases me, I’m perfectly content with this version of existence and how it’s unfolding. Maybe something will ruin that contentment, maybe something won’t. The point is not to tell you I’m living some kind of perfect life because I’m not, there’s no such thing, but there’s a good chance the whole world is doing something completely different in this Covid-19 version of existence and I just enjoyed the fact that last night I was sitting there and had a fairly good idea of exactly what I would have been doing. That I think is a rare pleasure, and a pleasure because I’m not longing for either. If we make the most of whatever we do end up doing we’re less likely to long for anything else.

And that goes for my breakfast too. It is Sunday today and while I love to think I would be in the Koukaki district of Athens looking for some little hipster brunch place, most likely I would be grabbing a spanakopita from the first bakery I could find from the few that open on a Sunday in Greece before driving to Preveza and fixing up a boat. Yes I desire that, but I’m pretty happy with whats sitting in my belly currently too.

As I read over that I felt at one point I wanted to vomit on myself. Don’t get me wrong the sentiment about uncontrollable existence and riding it’s wave still stands. It’s just I’m painfully aware that the two possible versions of existence I know of are pretty decent and there are plenty out there who don’t even have one decent version. “If you can’t sail, you just do something else“, I mean come on, what a wanker. But I don’t feel guilty, I don’t feel bad and I don’t feel I want to give up my blue cheese, what would that achieve. I’m just aware I’m incredibly lucky. Maybe I should find a way to share my blue cheese instead.

A

A funny thing Football is. There’s a part of me that views it as my dirty little secret when I’m trying to pretend I’m some kind of intellectual cultured traveller. This is less of a thing these days but undeniably I barely talked football when I ran around as a little hippy activist back in the day. Seemingly the worlds we move in through life change, or a better word may be evolve, and if we’re making the effort to live life not necessarily to the full, but realistically at atleast seventy to eighty percent then it’s not unreasonable to imagine we move throughout a few worlds within our lifetimes.

I wonder if it’s even possible to fully know the world you’re currently inhabiting. Maybe that’s also a ridiculous statement as its probably quite obvious sometimes, but more that if you’re experiencing life in a way in which you’re not thinking too much about who you are or your image within such a world then there’s a chance you just exist. It could be a case of embracing and being true to the moment or some such thing.

I just re-read that last paragraph and now might be a good time to mention I’m struggling with an horrendous hangover, rambling mindlessly without any kind of point in sight. In regards to my ability to write with a stinker of a hangover though I think I have improved from my last effort about a month ago when it took me about three days to write anything coherent again and even then coherent may be a little generous. That’s one of the things this blog is though, some self indulgent observations of course, but for a large chunk it was and still is about the experiment of writing for a year everyday and what that means in various real situations. This hangover while driving back to Scotland is very much then another real situation in which I attempt to write something you may actually want to read. Saying all that, it’s probably not the most interesting thing I’ll ever write.

I’m on the boat across the Irish Sea at the moment, just watched some film about bird watchers. It was alright but I can see why I’ve never heard of it before. The point being though that they found themselves in Alaska at one point and I remembered how much I want to sail around some crazy remote northern or southern areas. I nearly went on a trip last year to Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America with this crazy eighty old Alaskan. In the end I dropped out because his engine looked a long way from ever working and he talked too much. Antarctica, Alaska, the Arctic…all the best places seem to begin with an A