The Apocalypse

According to some apocalyptic doom-monger in America, the world ends tonight at 11pm GMT.

So not to compound any impending tragedy, I am currently eating the last doughnut in the box of raspberry-filled my wife bought yesterday. It would be unforgiveable to leave this earth with doughnuts still in the house. In fact, I would consider it to be an affront to God.

You’ll forgive me, beloved readers, if I sound rather flippant. But we, as a society, have been here many times, even in my lifetime. It is getting near the point where I am considering ditching the day job and selling Apocalypse insurance. *cue late night advert with soft piano music and montage of 2.4 nuclear family in slow motion...VOICEOVER: You would do anything for them. But what have you done to protect yourself, your loved ones and property against the end of the world?* The sun rises another day and I’m quids in. The world ends and who is around to collect? Win/win.

  I remember talk of the year 1984 being skipped in the calendar in order not to tempt our fate toward that of George Orwell’s hellish vision.  Who can forget the Millennium Bug and those who spent midnight at the cusp of a new century, watching for airplanes dropping from the sky? Only a fortnight ago an estimated 20% of Rome emptied the city as a major earthquake had been forecasted. A quick internet search will show the pattern stretches back nearly 700 years. Every generation, it seems, sees itself as the epitome of degradation and therefore fully deserving of God’s ultimate wrath.

Our youngest daughter has been genuinely spooked by the talk of today being the human race’s last. She is a rookie to this Armageddon stuff. It hasn’t stopped me looking out the window every 20 minutes, scanning the London skyline, claiming to have spotted a comet heading straight at planet earth.

I am a firm believer that fear is a tool the powerful use to make us malleable. Karl Marx called religion ‘the opiate of the people.’ In modern society, I think fear of some undefined attack on our person or property has replaced our fear of God. Those in charge tell us there is a Boogeyman under the bed and if we empower them, they will keep us safe. It is nothing more than the same trick travelling hustlers and snake oil salesmen would use against indigenous peoples; armed with knowledge of a pending solar eclipse they would demand concessions from the tribes in return for returning the Sun to the sky.

Londoners, on the whole, don’t let fear dictate their actions. The older generation lived through the Blitz. My generation lived through the IRA bombings. Even the younger one remember the 7/7 bombings. I don’t wish to belittle any of these. They are all tragedies. However, I clearly remember the day after 7/7 and people queued, as any normal day, waiting for the bus to come.

There have been many emails, FaceBook pages etc. circulating today asking what will be the song you listen to at the end of the world, what will be your final meal? This presents an interesting question in that I feel we all should live our lives as if today was our last one on Earth. For me, it means spending time with my family; living, loving, singing, dancing, laughing and just being. One of my favourite novelist, John Irving, wrote of not being afraid to die, but of being afraid of not living. It is a bit of mantra of mine.

So if it is our final day on earth, I feel privileged to have shared the ride with you, my beloved friends. But please, turn off the computer now and go hug the loved ones in your immediate vicinity. Talk to them. Laugh with them. Be with them. Live.

And the next time the media perpetuate the message that madmen are hell-bent on stealing your property, your way of life, of causing you physical harm in the name of politics or religion; resist the message. 

Remember instead that those people on the other side of the world, who speak differently, dress differently, worship an alien god, are more than likely not plotting to blow you up in your sleep. They too are looking to those they love; to talk to them, laugh with them. We are more alike than different.

If today’s blog does not appease your sense of dread, so be it. Who knows, maybe you are right? Stockpile your water and shotguns; board up the windows and huddle in a dark corner if it makes you feel better. If it is the end I choose to go out singing and laughing, as it would be the joys of life I want as the final thoughts that flash through my earthy mind. Even if we all live to see Sunday, the next forecast of the apocalypse is just around the corner. The Mayan calendar expires in December. 

Keep the Faith,

The Head