Unforeseeable Consequences

          At the end of almost a week of relaxed mingling with extended family at the World Touch Cup sporting tournament in Nottingham, I was driving home. The sun was shining and I was full of joie de vivre, so I hooked up the sound system to Spotify and picked a playlist that would sustain the mood as I bowled along the motorway. All was going swimmingly but, after an hour or so, the music was interrupted by the stern-sounding voice of a middle-aged American male – such as you might have heard in a black-and-white Hollywood movie about the invasion of the planet by aliens from outer space – and his words were indeed a warning, not of invasion but self-destruction. He was talking about irreversible climate-related catastrophe.

           I was first alarmed then puzzled by this abrupt intrusion but, being in no position to pull over, I tried to make sense of it as I drove. In the days of radio, this might have been explained by either the deliberate intervention of the ‘authorities’ or, less ominously, a slippage of broadcasting frequencies. But this was the internet, so was I being hacked? Pretty soon, however, the message I was hearing became more interesting than puzzling over the medium through which it was being delivered. The stern-sounding man was merely the opening voice of a podcast called The Great Simplification, the theme of which is that account should be taken of all the possible outcomes of the actions we propose and the question asked, “And then what?” We need to use a “wide-boundary lens” when formulating policies. For example, we all switch to EVs, which do not run on fossil fuels but whose interiors are made of plastics – a by-product of oil – and whose batteries will require more rare minerals than are currently being mined. And then what? And don’t forget to factor in the Jevons paradox: if the cost of a resource decreases (i.e. EVs become more affordable), we are inclined to use more of it, thereby blowing a hole in any chance of actually conserving resources.

          By the time I got home, I had convinced myself that the podcast had played itself because Spotify knew I would be interested in the subject, either by analysing my listening fodder or – and this is where it becomes menacing – by consulting with Alexa. The truth turned out to be more mundane: my Other Half was trying to access our single-user account while I was using it and succeeded in selecting the podcast but not in being able to hear it.

          The next day, we had men in to lay new floor covering throughout Wonderman Towers. It’s a necessarily disruptive process, but I intended to supervise it closely, while my OH absented herself entirely. In the event, the men were quick, efficient, professional and not in need of supervision. We are chuffed with the result and with ourselves at having chosen to lay cork, a material with excellent properties of thermal and acoustic insulation and a sustainable pedigree second to none (although I have yet to check the latter through a wide-boundary lens).

          When we moved in here three years ago, the interior was an homage to magnolia and beige. Now, with the carpet gone, there are just the walls to re-paint. I say “just”, but the difficulty of the task is in choosing colours – especially from those tiny, printed swatches that serve only to confuse the eye. We have a lot of paintings to re-hang, but don’t want the clinical white background of a gallery space. So, I am currently surrounded by patchwork-effect walls painted with samples. I’m paralysed with indecision and mulling over the relative benefits of a return to magnolia. Not only that, but I also have a nagging feeling that I am engaged in mere displacement activity. I mean, according to what I’ve been listening to lately, we’re all doomed anyway, whatever decisions we make.