Hmmm… I’ve never thought about this question. OK, here are 999 things I’ve thought about a million times in the years of nappies and sleepless nights!! 😂

I cycled east to seek out a cafe* where I could scribble down my thoughts. Like many hypothetical questions, this one required me to hold two opposing, contradictory, but true ideas in my head at once (knowing that I’d be sad if I was suddenly single and childless, yet also imagining that reality had never existed, and therefore feeling free and agile). This certainly meant that my brain earned its lunch!

Above all, if I somehow woke up in a different reality without a family I would marvel at how much TIME and MONEY I suddenly had.

In other words, I have become a boring old man moaning that “youth is wasting on the young” or advising expectant parents to “get some sleep”.

I am certain that I would be driven to use that time (and appreciate it and treasure it) far more than I ever did back in the days when I took the commodity for granted. I used to assume that time would last for ever. Nowadays I feel as though I will never have enough again. 

The wisest book I have read on this subject, by the way, is A Squash and a Squeeze by Julia Donaldson. Similarly, polar explorer Erling Kagge sums it up well thus, 

“It can feel both unpleasant and somewhat risky to change your own world. But perhaps it’s even more risky to do nothing. Even more risky not to try to discover how good life can be, both for yourself and for those you care about. What you will regret in times to come are the chances you didn’t take, the initiative you didn’t show, what you didn’t do.”

*

The question led me onto a detour of thinking about what I could have done differently in my life. Perhaps such musings are futile at best, harmful at worst. They certainly can’t change anything in my past. But it is never too late to start filling your days closer to the brim.

Indeed, whatever stage of life we are at, it holds true that “the life that I could still live, I should live.” Heed the old sundial advice to “utere non numera” – use the time, don’t count it.

It became clear to me that the removal of ties and commitments would free me to dare to be more audacious. Those who are bold enough to make really big changes to their direction often find that the consequences were not nearly so binding as we imagine or fear in advance. Often you don’t know if the ‘mistakes’ along the way are actually mistakes. With hindsight they might be revealed to be lessons or blessings in disguise.

Therefore, if I was free to do so, I would explore more directions and take more risks.

Creative risks.

Adventurous risks.

Financial risks. Don’t be cavalier with your money, but do spend it generously on things that feel worthwhile, educational, creative, purposeful or adventurous. You can always make more money. But you cannot always make more freedom. And you can never make more time.

I would become really bold. And be in a hurry. (I have always been in a hurry. It worked very well before I became a parent, but has been something of a nightmare to un-learn since.)

*

What would a tree do if it magically swapped its roots for legs? I reckon the first thing for Madam Oak would be to have a look around and get a different perspective to the one it has always had.

Before you have roots, chase your enthusiasms and your curiosities wherever they lead.

Don’t dream: explore and discover. Go on a journey. Travel while you can. Go places you have never been. Meet people who look at the world differently.

Dive deep into niches that interest you.

Ken Robinson writes about seeking “the convergence of natural talents and personal passions.” He calls this the Element and argues that finding your passion changes everything.

For the past few years I could have answered the question of “what would you do differently” very specifically:

• I would spend a year living in the USA. [I love America – perhaps that’s another post; diners, blue highways, Bruce, Ernest, empty space…], basing myself for a month or so in 8 or 10 towns and blasting around doing microadventures. Then I would spend a month in San Francisco and a month in NYC to write a book of ‘Microadventures USA’.

Another trip I’d enjoy would be to load up a camper van with outdoor gear, bikes and boats and books, then spend a few months driving round the Deep South of the USA, eating in tiny diners, eavesdropping and taking photographs.

But most of my travels in the past decade have been closer to home. As I contemplate this hypothetical sudden freedom I also think about a circumnavigation of Britain. All the Munroes. The Scottish islands. All the bothies. There is a completist, trainspotter-type urge within me when I contemplate endless time and no ties.

Yet the nomadic idea of these adventures doesn’t thrill me as much as it used to. Our motivations and impulses change with time. 

For example…

• At 23: I’d have chosen to go on a colossal, cheap, roaming, hard, inquisitive global journey. On a bike.
• At 33: When I was this age I was desperate to go on an expedition to the South Pole, to make my mark professionally and push my physical limits. Something to be proud of and to impress others. Perhaps that is not what I’d encourage a single 33-year old to do today, but it is what fired me at that age.
• At 43: What appeals to me now is community, friends who lend me books and run quickly, creative projects, a hill to sleep on, a river to swim in, a busy local cafe, and acres of time to appreciate those things.
  Every couple of months I’d saddle up and go on a long, slow journey for a couple of months.
  Then every year or two I’d swap my lovely village for a different village in a different place and enjoy exploring all over again.

On a smaller scale, I would also:

• See my friends again.
• Go out in the evenings.
• Eat at spicy restaurants.
• Be out running or riding at sunrise and sunset.
• Go to the cinema.
• Spend a lot more time writing in my shed or out taking photographs.
• And try out Tinder – it’s always intrigued me!

Mostly, I’d like to live in a village or small town in the hills, turn off my computer, delete my emails and social media. To live a life with friends, outdoor exercise, a bustling cafe, books to read, and time to be creative. That is what I want.

What I have found most interesting about this question, and unsettling, is that what I would choose to do if I was single is entirely compatible to doing it all with a family.

Food for thought for me as the beans on toast arrives…