Je Ne Regrette That Much

‘I wish I’d done things differently,’ said my shifty, kinda racist, pseudo-Chinese landlord Dudley this morning.

Aha! I thought. At last. At last a sign of humanity. A sign of something beyond the money-grubbing rule-worshiping arch-stickler I’ve come to know and kind of loathe. What was he going to say, I wondered. That he wishes he’d gone to a kibbutz? That he wishes he’d travelled through South America as a youth, maybe joining forces with Chico Mendez to try and help save the rainforests? Or maybe just that he wishes he’d concentrated his efforts on something more rewarding, less soulless than property and trade...

‘What would you have done?’ I asked, breath bated.

‘I’d have bought property in Weybridge,’ he said. ‘Prices have gone through the roof,’ he said. ‘I’d be sitting pretty now.’

‘Oh,’ I sighed. ‘Well, never mind.’

It got me wondering though, what would I do differently, if I could?

Well, firstly, I’d have stood up to my parents sooner rather than later. Secondly, I’d have started living – and therefore blogging – at least five years ago. If I had, for sure, I’d be sitting pretty now.

Ah, well. Never mind.

That's probably it though. Which makes me feel OK really. You know? Life's not bad. Good old life.

And you? Yes, you, go on, indulge me. If you had your time again, what would you do differently?

PS. Bon chance, Little Sparra!