The regret of being incurious
I am not a monarchist, nor am I a royalist, nor am I an ardent republican for that matter; what I am also not is so spectacularly incurious about the world and the way it works, so ideologically captured, so damn grouchy, as to refuse an invitation to what will more than likely be the most important historical event in the UK of our age. Not just the most important, but the strangest, the weirdest.
Nick Cave is more punk now than he ever was. I love that he gently refuted the criticism loudly lobbed his way by fans who demanded an answer from him, and were shocked that he would entertain going to the coronation.
Some of my biggest regrets are from being incurious about situations and people. Fearful that I’d be somehow tainted, or my “values” would be compromised by attending or watching or even reading something that didn’t align with what I believed or how I thought I should be treated. When did I let my world become so small?