Trench Rot

At the start of the whole pandemic thing (heretofore known as the Pain in the Face), I wrote about how us doctors were standing at a cliff edge, terrified of our next steps. I used the analogy of the WW1 soldiers going Over The Top, facing into certain terror and almost-certain death. 

That's how I perceived it then.

Now I realise that we are in fact experiencing all of the other episodes of Blackadder Goes Forth, and not just the dramatic and poignant final scenes. We are living day by day with uncertainty and the vague dread fear of something happening, but it not happening Quite Yet. In the meantime we shoot the messenger (er, pigeon) and come up with endless cunning plans. 

Some of us are doing a fine imitation of George, infinitely chirpy and positive, always looking on the bright side, until finally the time comes when we have to ask permission for our lower lip to quiver. 

Some of us are in a Blackadder/Darling face-off with colleagues or friends, where people who are closer to the Front Line are dismissive of those sipping the General's wine in the fancy chateau up the road . There is a oneupmanship afoot. "I work harder than you and I'm better than you and I deserve the box of Roses more than you". This, of course, simply stems from the exhaustion of working without sufficient support and acknowledgement, and is entirely self-destructive for both parties. 

We like to think there are some General Melchetts up the ranks somewhere, dithering doddery idiots who we can blame for the PPE mess-ups, or testing failures, or nursing home tragedies. The truth is there probably is no moustachioed buffoon on whom all the blame rests. It was probably simply a product of a very, very difficult situation. 

We may be tempted to try Blackadder's trick of feigning madness in order that we will be sent home from the Front. The irony being, of course, that it is the mad ones who stay. The more burnt out we get, the harder it is to make the wise decision to step back and take a break. 

Captain Flashheart and co are great for the telly, and sure fair play to them, Virgin Media would be lost without their sage and learned advice. 

As for Baldrick, well, we'll always need someone who can rustle up a quick cappuccino...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CtdYqVK_R4

Why, like?

There are quite a few things that I simply do not understand. 

I don't know why some people (men) wear shorts in winter.

I don't know why some people (men) wear woolly hats in the summer. 

I will never understand why a person who lives in a city would purchase, and then regularly drive, a vehicle designed for traversing a field in Connemara. 

And I am not sure if my attitude to, and perception of, wealth will ever align with (what appears to be) the societal norm.

(Of course, of course, of course, what I am about to say is absolutely and fundamentally informed by my position of privilege, and my colour, race, profession, background, etc, etc, etc. I am standing here with my head in the stocks, waiting for the wet sponges of approbation to be flung in my face. Perhaps those of us who regularly spout opinions secretly yearn for those wet sponges, now and again. To wake us up a bit, like.)

So this is the thing I don't understand: what do people be wanting with all that money? Why do some people want more money than they need? 

What is the attraction of excessive wealth? 

Why, like? 

For what? 

I am completely on board with the idea of a house with enough rooms for everyone, and a garden, and warmth, and a "nice" neighbourhood (though not entirely clear with what that "nice" means). I think a car that works is probably a necessity for a lot of people. Clothes that fit. Food that is plentiful and tasty. Being able to say "yes" when the children ask for an icecream, or a pointless overpriced magazine in a shop. These are all luxuries, but I am grateful that I have them, and I have to say I would be a bit reluctant to give them up. 

But why would the clothes have to be expensive? Why would the car need to cost the same as a house in Leitrim? (no offence, Leitrim). Why would I need to buy, and then exhibit, a candle that costs the average weekly industrial wage?

I just really, really, really don't understand. 

Those Endless Days

Trust me, I really do appreciate how annoying it is when a person is persistently positive. 

Chirpy McChirpface in the face of obvious and insidious disaster. 
Little Miss Smiles when all around there is doom and gloom.
Bonnie Langford in a room full of Fr Stones. 

But I just can't help myself. 
I keep seeing so many good things in the world at the moment. Some of them are cringe-level stuff, like my children's snuggles or the bright yellow daffodils outside my window. Others are a bit more tangible, like the lazy mornings spent in PJs and tea-drinking, when we would otherwise be roaring at each other about swimming gear and money for football and no you can't wear those wellies to ballet. 

No restrictions on peanut butter usage.
No lunchboxes.
No uniform washing.
No near-fights with parents who believe that leaving the engine on in their 4x4 outside the school gates is perfectly acceptable behaviour.

More tea.

Witnessing the affirmation that the people who you knew were Good turn out to be Even Better.
Witnessing the corollary, and feeling smug about it. 

Remembering the times when I had to stay away from other people because they might make me sick, or they had to stay away from me because I might make them sick, and feeling that the world has a smidge more understanding now of how that felt. 

And yes, the fish in the Venice canals (although I am not so sure about the veracity of that one).

Technology turning out to be really quite easy to use, after all. People. 

Watching how a bit of motivation can encourage the most recalcitrant. 

Gardening.

Having a clean house and not resenting it.

Not having to wheel the same trolley around the same aisles buying the same food and queuing and paying and packing and unpacking and repeating. 

Feeling glad that the availability of hairdressers/nail technicians/tanning salons/teeth whiteners is entirely irrelevant to me. (I do miss my physiotherapist though).

I have a house with enough rooms in it that we can all spend time apart comfortably. 
I have a garden with flowers and vegetables and rusty scooters and goalposts and at least seven footballs. 
I have access to books, movies, TV series, video calls, music, paper, Scrabble. 
I can see greenery out of all of my windows. 
I don't have all the different foods that I might want or desire, but I have a grocery delivery slot booked, and I can afford to order a takeaway and pay the milkman and ask the butcher to drop me in some sausages. 

I have never been a big fan of shopping malls, and I pretty much hate buying clothes and shoes and make-up. 

I have low-maintenance friends who live between 300 and 3000 miles away from me, so this separation is not new for us. 

I am safe in my home. Abuse, addiction, animosity, antipathy - these do not loom large in my household.

These days could be so much harder. 

I am thankful. 


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNJcd1pTaL0