emotional contradictions

Emotional contradictions

I read in the paper that a man has been killed in a jet ski accident.
That’s sad for his friends, for his wife and kids… if he has them.
But then, in another part of my brain, I think “That’s ONE for the environment.”

In the same paper I read about Gordon Ramsey.
I don’t like Gordon, he’s spiteful and aggressive.
But then, in that very same article, it says his restaurants are going down the drain.
And I just can’t help thinking, “Up yours Gordon Ya Tosser!”

It’s 1971. My mate James and I go along to protest against the Springboks when they play in Australia. We’re young and swept up in a tide of anger against apartheid. But we love our rugby, having played lots. In one breath we yell, “Racists out!” and in another “Tackle him!”. “Go home Yarpies” then “Bullshit Ref, that was forward!”

In another protest against war I end up organising street theatre. This is what happens when you admit you’re an actor. One of our troupe is a Scot. I am too in a way, but he’s a serious one – bagpipes and all. Red hair. Colin. He suggests that he can play his bagpipes as part of the street theatre. I agree. On the day, he roles up in the full gear: kilt, sporran, pipes and cap. His tartan is the Black Watch, the colours of the Campbells. I remember what I’d been told and what I’d read: that the Campbells fought on the side of the English at Calloden. They were traitors to the cause while us McDonalds went to our deaths with Bonney Prince Charlie. I remind Colin what his tartan is, and he says, “Well yes, I’m a Campbell.” Then, when I tell him I’m a McDonald, there’s a moment where we lock eyes, bright blue eyes. There’s a very brief sense between us that we could have a crack – knock heads and wrestle – then we remember we’re at a peace march in 1989.  We laugh.