Cue dream sequence.
wibblywobbly ~ wibblywobbly ~ wibblywobbly
When I am grand poobah, leader of all and ruler of the land, my first act will be to create a new law which will read: “You, my loyal and humble subject, are entitled to choose one day of the calendar year during which you will be free from the constraints of adulthood and allowed to act and think like a child.”
Actually, that’s not strictly true.
My FIRST act as grand poobah, leader of all and ruler of the land will probably be to order a bigger robe and crown, then do a little jig in celebration of my, somewhat unexpectedly, acquired position.
After I’ve calmed down, beheaded a few oiks in Burberry justbecauseIcan and had a good hearty meal, for one should never make rash decisions on an empty stomach (just ask Alfred von Schlieffen who’s SECOND plan was “have dinner”), I will then proceed to lay down the law. Don’t worry though, I will be a benevolent ruler. Unless I don’t like the cut of your jib of course, whereby an entirely different law will be invoked and you shall be cast out along with the Spice Girls (except Baby) and made to watch endless repeats of Saturday night family TV.
My law will free adults of their responsbilities for a day, remove the persistent nagging in their head and allow them to revert to childhood. Throw tantrums and food, stomp in puddles, lie about in a field staring at the clouds, or create elaborate structures from nothing but dirt and twigs. My subjects would worship me, and I’d get to have one day eating nothing but marshmallows.
wibblywobbly ~ wibblywobbly ~ wibblywobbly
This idea, the law, not my sudden ascension to becoming grand poobah, leader of etc etc (although, why not?) came to me the other morning as we were driving into work through the sleet and snow. The weather had changed suddenly and as soon as the first flakes appeared I immediately started thinking about the driving conditions and that I’d maybe have to scrap the ice off the car later on and how the journey home could, if it kept snowing, be a royal pain in the arse, and so on and on…
The thing is, I can still (just) remember a time when all it took was a single snowflake to flutter down from the sky to illicit a single thought, in a distinctly pavlovian manner, from my brain. SLEDGE!
I miss those days. I want them back. Hence the “when I am grand poobah… new law… etc etc”.
Who’s with me?
Come on, let’s start a revolution. Don’t you miss quaffing entire Sherbert Fountains in one go? Playing catch with a tennis ball for hours on end? Spending entire afternoons exploring the local burn?