No, they really would.
My ancestors were out there. In woods, caves. In nature. Getting dinner was an affair that involved hours spent hunting big, angry things with rather nasty teeth that were simultaneously hunting them. I know Tesco is pretty awful on a Saturday but what they went through just to remain alive was pretty impressive.
All for what? By preserving themselves and their DNA and their ability to reproduce, the end result has become me. Me, who spent 4 consecutive minutes last Thursday attempting to open a single Tesco bag at the checkout, during which time my wife opened 5 and filled them with shopping. It appears that during the millennia of evolution between my ancestors and me, basic motor functions have been phased out.
But that’s not all.
My ancestors were throwing big heavy sharpy things, with accuracy, at snarling beasts with massive teeth, in lands far removed from the cushty neighbourhood that I now reside in. I imagine these environments were somewhat haphazard with poisonous insects, snakes, spiders and whatnot.
And now there’s me. I enjoy being outdoors, don’t get me wrong. I fully endorse “getting some fresh air” and entirely believe the goodness it can do someone. But I also regard undertaking hard physical labour outdoors, especially labour that involves disturbing the possible resting places of insects and other nasties, with some uneasiness.
You see, my senses and instincts seem to be stuck in “ancestor” mode. What this basically means is that whilst I’m not faced with the same dangers as my ancestral folk were, my reactions are still in-line with what was required of them upon encountering a sabre-toothed tiger.
Take, for example, the occasion a week ago when I was providing pretty limp-wristed assistance in the construction of some garden decking. Before the work started I was required to do some weed clearing and also remove some big pieces of wood that were in the way. I shuffled about for a while, donning some gloves and began pulling up some of the weeds. It was all going swimmingly until I began moving the big pieces of wood. These pieces had been there for a long, long time, and my sudden movement disturbed a number of spiders that had found comfort amongst them.
Now I happened to be carrying one of these pieces across the garden when one of these spiders waddled down towards my hand wondering what was going on. I noticed this in mid-step, and whilst my brain knew, knew, that this spider (of fair size) was completely harmless and that my gloves would stop any creepy tickling, my gut reaction was to spring wildly into the air whilst dropping the piece of wood straight onto the floor.
I’m not lying when I say all thought left my mind at the stage I jumped. It wouldn’t have mattered if a priceless vase was underneath me at that time, that wood was hitting the floor. My magnificent leap would have certainly sprung me well out of reach of a rabid hyena or something, but it was quite unnecessary avoiding action to take from a small spider, which I spotted scuttling off aimlessly towards the shed a minute later.
I thought my dramas were over, but suddenly I heard a buzz right around my ear, and instantly my legs went again – Shhhhhbroooooiiiiiiiing – and so did my hands as they flapped akin to a humming-bird around my ears, as my instincts shouted DANGER! at me, but my brain watched on somberly, tutting, whilst saying it’s a fly, moron.
And it was a fly, of course. A fly which I must have accidentally batted into the 6th dimension with my frantic hand movements, because I never did see it.
It took a day in the great outdoors to realise that I am absolutely not suited to it. I appreciate it, I like the scenery, and I value the good contributions it makes towards my health.
But I know, for certain in fact, that my ancestors must be watching over my helpless, sometimes flailing body, and thinking “we worked our arses off, killed tigers with our bare hands, escaped from the grips of boa-constrictors and lived in a sodding cave so this gangly idiot can mince about at the sight of anything that resembles nature? What an utter waste.”
And I simply do not blame them.
