The Editor writes: I cannot recall when I stopped laughing at people wearing masks in the street or believing the only times they're useful are when treating an infected person or suffering from the infection. Anyway, that was a first for both of us today when we went shopping to the Co-op. And yes, I still felt ridiculous.Meanwhile, Bill Taylor keeps us entertained from Toronto. His jottings will continue to appear here, just less frequently. The Covid-19 Diaries, packed with fine writing, can be browsed here
Good.
Friday.
Or words to that effect.
Dunno why, but as the days pass formlessly by there remains something different about Friday, the momentary lifting of a cloud, as if to suggest we’d all put in a hard week at the coalface.
I can hark back to when it was sometimes called Poet’s Day…
Buzz off early, tomorrow’s Saturday. Not that we ever did, of course. [Bill didn't write "buzz" but newsnow gets prudish about profanity, even when disguised with asterisks - Ed]
Quick interruption for a seasonal joke:
What do you get when you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
Hot cross bunnies.
Gareth Crew told me that one when he was about three. Four decades later, it still makes me laugh.
They say that laughter is the best medicine. They’re wrong. But it’ll do until a vaccine comes along. Like buses, alas, looking at your watch and swearing won’t speed it up.
My sleep patterns are shifting, although, apart from one bad night, not towards insomnia. To snore is human; to forgive, divine.
In the years BC (Before Covid), I was usually up by 7am Now it’s closer to eight. I don’t need the extra hour but it’s nice to have. Lesley misses having to set the alarm, if only for the luxury of hitting “snooze”.
Dreams are changing, too. No nightmares so far but social-distancing is now a factor sleeping or awake. The message has reached my subconscious. One of these days, I guess I’ll have to winkle it out of there.
Or is it possible over time to become allergic to people? That could be aggravating. When this is done with, I don’t want to go on having to avoid EVERYbody.
Funny, incidentally (meaning funny peculiar, rather than funny ha-ha. Or maybe it is funny ha-ha), how blithely we speak of what we’ll do when “this” is over.
The assumption being that we’ll be among the elect; the ones who emerge sound in wind and limb. It’s the others who will sicken and possibly die, not us.
To assume otherwise would, of course, be insupportable. To say it out loud, even worse. All the same… funny. Meanwhile, the wisest among us discreetly equip our fallout shelters with survivalist essentials. Just. In. Case.
But even on a day like today – which isn’t the cheeriest in the calendars of the godly – I don’t want to be accused of spreading alarm and despondency. During World War II, in the UK at least, that was a criminal offence.
So I’ll simply quote the words of the prophet:
“Always look on the bright side of life…”
And we can all join in on the whistling bit.
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