Happy Groundhog Day! In the film, Phil Connors spends his days perfecting his piano skills. Imagine you’ve just woken up to the strains of I Got You Babe with the prospect of an eternity to learn stuff ahead of you. What would our contributors do with their time?
I’d learn to beatbox because I assume that one day I will be BRILLIANT at beatboxing and all I need is the chance for a lot* of practice.
*100,000 hours or whatnot
I’d learn to speak Spanish, German and French to make the most of the last five days of the Schengen Agreement, then for creative swears afterwards. Or tennis. I wish I’d been better at tennis.
I’d read ALL the books. Every book ever. Or I’d learn to do a backflip. Or I’d learn the full version of Us by Regina Spektor on the piano, instead of just the opening bars that I play over and over again every evening. (Sorry neighbours).
I would become beyond awesome at the trapeze. Right now, I have all the grace of a dead breezeblock, but it fills me with joy and covers me in bruises. Ideally, I’d like to be able to fly like Fevvers in Nights at the Circus – but without the benefit of actual wings. My core would be A THING OF WONDER.
Martial arts in the morning, pastry making in the afternoon. Ass-kicking skills would improve in sweet, sweet tandem with increasingly tasty rewards each day. Yes. That holds repeat appeal for me.
I’d perfect winged eyeliner. Scrap that, any eyeliner. I’ve got 3,478 products that people have claimed are ‘foolproof’ and I still have the precision lining skills of a drunk wearing boxing gloves. On a trampoline.
Power naps. I’d need a LOT of practice as I’m naturally quite insomniaccy. New bedding would be required and total quiet at home. I’m well up for this. People would flock to see the Sleeping Woman of Derbyshire.
I would a) learn to play the harp beautifully, although I may have to spend the first few years earning enough money to afford one (though if I’m being pedantic, in Groundhog Day world I wouldn’t be able to save anything, would I? Maybe I could steal a harp if there was one within a day’s travel, which there might not be. Hmmm. Maybe I shouldn’t overthink this). And b) perfect the art of doing up my bra behind me, as after 26 years of fumbling I’m still only vaguely competent at it.
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