If It's Not Too Much To Ask...

Last week I proffered a hypothesis. One that sounds too new-age and spiritual for my comfort levels. I suggested that by consciously forming a coherent thought about something desirable - no matter how far fetched it may seem - that fantasy thought might create some sort of roadmap for the subconscious, and lead to the desirable outcome happening at a later date. It would come as a complete surprise to the conscious, but would have been secretly on the cards since the fantasy thought occurred. You see, when I write it out like that, I almost make it sound scientific!

Exactly like me if I were blonde.

Last week I used the example of something that happened last year. I thought I should look for a Writer's Festival to attend, but then did nothing about it. Last week the opportunity for me to attend one, fell into my lap without me having done a thing. Was my subconscious plotting away all that time, subtly forcing me into life choices that took me to the place I needed to be? Who knows? Not me. I'm just spouting pseudoscience and trying to sound clever.

This week I've been thinking some more. If my hypothesis is true, then it really does pay to think through some desirable outcomes I would like in the future. I can work this grift to my advantage. It's not about shortcutting through the hard graft that it takes to achieve things. It's about recognising unlikely, or impossible occurrences that would be wonderful to have come true, with zero conscious effort involved. If my theory is correct, this could work out brilliantly for my future. The question is, what experiences do I want to conjure up, if I could wave a magic wand and make them be? Well then, dear Reader, read on and read hard. See what I came up with.

A. Frigging. Natural.

PODCASTS
I am a big fan of a podcast. The type I enjoy are where funny and/or interesting people chat. Just that. I've talked about the Remaniacs one before. And the Adam Buxton Podcast is another staple. Recently I found Off Menu with James Acaster and Ed Gamble, where their guest talks about their dream meal, course by course. It's great, and spawned an entire evening of food-convo on a recent night out with my brother and his girlfriend. But I digress. Here is my coherent fantasy thought. I would nail a podcast. I would love to be able to spend forty-five minutes to an hour a week, chatting with a funny and/or interesting person, about all sorts. Books. Or writing. Or films, or food, or Eurovision, or life. Just let me chew the fat with people that are interesting. Obviously I'd go the Graham Norton route and involve wine so the convo flowed easily - obvs - but it would be marvellous. The downside is that no one I know has anything to do with podcasts. And, even more problematic, is the fact I might be terrible at it. It might be the worst idea ever. Hey ho, let's say it aloud and put it out there. Bondie's Podcast for the win!

What it would look like if PWB read my next
groundbreaking, genre-busting work of genius,
in the bath. And I'd written the bible.
Or something.

TILDA FAN FICTION
Right then, stand by for the next coherent thought. I want to write like Phoebe Waller Bridge. There, that cut to the chase, didn't it. Ok, let's clarify. Not exactly like her. I don't want to plagiarise anyone, and I want to keep my own style. It's not about nicking her ideas about plot or character. (There will only ever be one sexy priest). It's more about wanting to emulate the cultural impact she had with Fleabag. I want to create something that inspires conversation, spawns a raft of fan fiction and homages, and is generally accepted as groundbreaking work that rewrote a genre. (See also Hannah Gadsby and Nanette.) It's not a big ask, is it? LOLZ. Of course it is! These things can't be planned. Not that it matters. I've had the coherent thought, so I'm sending it out on its way. Let's watch this space.

I don't usually make it to the bedroom.
Much more sexily, I shovel in the
Pom Bears standing up in the kitchen.

WILLPOWER
I don't have any willpower. Simple as that. Instead of trying to limit myself to sensible amounts of things, I accept that I can only manage to abstain, or binge. There are no cakes or biscuits in the house because I'd eat them all in one go. I don't open a bottle of wine unless it's the weekend, because no matter what my initial intentions are, that wine will not be left for another day. So my coherent thought is this. I like crisps. I would like to be able to buy multipacks of crisps. Having bags in the house would useful if I need a snack, or if I'm craving a crisp butty and I CBA to go to the shops. Having bags of crisps plural would be good. I want to be able to buy them and save them. Not eat all six before I've put the rest of the shopping away. It is a challenge to do with ridged McCoys, but surprisingly easy with Pom Bears. They put up no resistance at all. Willpower please, Universe. If it's not too much trouble. 

No trees were harmed in the making
of this loo roll. Saving the world
and being aesthetically pleasing too.
Who Gives a Crap? Me!

EMERGENCY ACTION
You won't be surprised to hear, I am NOT Greta Thunburg. But I do think she is amazing. The realisation that my generation is not only old, but also lacking in all sorts of understanding about the urgency of the climate change disaster, has been gradual for me. For a long time it felt like my peers were out in the world building up to the time they were in charge of things. Now, I reckon that's in the past. I am no longer the youth of today. The youth of today are immeasurably more impressive. So, my wish is that climate change is sorted out. Not necessarily for me and my lifetime, but for the brilliant school-striking generation that are following me and have more skin in the game. Not a big ask is it? The reality is that I'm too far gone in some of my habits to even realise there is an issue. (I'm letting Moon Cups pass me by.) I don't want to be ignorant but I also know I am hugely ignorant in plenty of ways. So, please stop climate change, Universe. if it's not too much to ask. Or, if that's a problem, please make more obvious the ways in which I can help. So far I'm a convert to recycled loo roll, period knickers, and a reusable water bottle. I'm guessing there's more.

So between me not eating all the crisps, and a dramatic reduction of landfill because of my actions, I'm sure there are some surprises the Universe can throw my way. I still don't know if my hypothesis is true. This might all be for nothing. I guess if we regroup in a few years to discuss my game-changing new book, or listen to my top-notch weekly podcast where I chatter about nothing, then we'll know there's something in it. Keep the faith, it might even happen.

Have a lovely week, folks.