Yes, I know the new buzzword is disruption, and we all want to get out of the rut and be bold and create new pathways and wear pink and orange socks, vote Green and spend a week glamping in the Gobi Desert.

But the truth is, we are actually creatures of dull routine.

We like to get up at the same time every day and have Weet-Bix with yoghurt and fruit drizzled with honey then take the dog for a walk and have toast and coffee when we return.

If you’re a total clockwork droid, you might start a 15-minute yoga routine before breakfast at 7.30 every morning, then fill your day with gardening, reading, phone-scrolling, a nice biscuit dunk with liquorice tea at 11am followed by a walk in the bush, lunch, more gardening, a trip to the supermarket for dinner ingredients, and then Antiques Roadshow before cooking dinner, Hard Quiz with smart-arse Tom Gleeson then eating dinner with ABC News at 7pm, more book reading and bed.

That’s a nice, comforting little routine for anyone who likes a quiet life.

Unfortunately, a quiet life can lead to a quiet, early death, particularly of the soul.

So a little disruption can be a good thing.

And I can tell you, with the authoritative voice of experience, that the best disruptor in anyone’s world is a 36-hour visit with sleepover from the grandkids.

When you combine the visit with 36 hours of rain and a Jack Russell puppy delirious at the sight of three loud, jumpy boys under 12 who have been brought up without screens, the result is more than disruptive.

It’s cataclysmic in an epoch-changing sort of way.

Yoga routine? Gone.

Breakfast of yoghurt, fruit and drizzled honey? Gone.

Gardening? Impossible.

Relaxing bush walk? Don’t be ridiculous.

Reading and phone scrolling? Forget it.

Antiques Roadshow? Yeah, sure.

Hard Quiz? Forget it.

Evening dinner with the ABC News? You’re dreaming, mate.

Instead, we have Dungeons and Dragons (or DnD to the in-crowd) at 7.30 in the morning, followed by LEGO tower-building and marble races at 8.30, hot chocolate at 9, dog race around the rain-soaked bush at 9.30, followed by more DnD, a piano and electric guitar jam session and chocolate cake baking with frosted cream from 11am and 3-D Chinese puzzle solving until lunch, then continue for the afternoon until the evening sinks into a relaxing scream-filled laughter bounce on the couch with the wacky Aussie film Runt.

Then it’s a hilarious pillow fight and blow-up spare bedtime before lights out and a bone-weary sigh.

Next day as dawn breaks — press the repeat button.

Now, here is where we have to factor in the awe-inspiring atomic energy exchange between a Jack Russell puppy and three young boys.

Left uncontrolled, this can result in a thermonuclear blast of doomsday proportions, big enough to block out the sun for days.

So the dungeon master has to occasionally exert control by shouting: “that’s enough!” or “walkie time!”

Believe me, after a day and a half of pure disruption when a new world order of manic children threatens to emerge, complete with gold LEGO towers and ballrooms — the gentle fall of evening into Antiques Roadshow with tea and biscuits followed by the familiar routines of Weet-Bix and bushwalks the next day, is more than just appealing — it’s a beautiful science for resetting the natural order of things.

John Lewis is a former journalist at The News.

Deniliquin Pastoral Times Google News Panels

Sunday, 20th February 2028

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