Lockdown has affected people in different ways: I’m discovering that many friends are missing their work routines so much they’ve simply recreated different versions of them at home. There’s one who is, I’m sure, looking at my heart rate belt stats and taking that as a personal affront, because BOY is she pushing me to work harder right now. Then there are those who, despite all this free time, can’t find ways to avoid the inevitable.

Even as the world disintegrates, some stuff cannot be ignored any longer.


For me, life is pretty decent right now. The problem, inevitably, will be catching up from having been effectively poleaxed for the last two days of last week, but if it matters enough I’ll hunker down, it always happens. Sure there’s still those two things still to sort on the website which keep getting shifted down and across the To Do List, but that’s always been the way this things work out.

To remain happy, and keep momentum going, there will need to be some poetry revisited soon. I’d assumed it would be something old, but more and more there’s an itch, somewhere between my metaphorical shoulder blades. Maybe I should try ticking someone else’s box this time, and not just my own. Perhaps, even if I fail, it would be worth stepping right outside of the comfort zones and doing something truly frightening.

Except, in some ways, it really isn’t.


It’s like I’m living, some days, in the 2020 version of this 2017 article. People invent fresh terror to pile onto existing stupidity whilst all I’d like is less stuff and more time to write. We don’t need more Internet of Things, but less consumerism and a greater understanding of how to make humanity cope with futures where touching each other could end up as fatal.

Mostly, I need to redefine what I consider as appropriate validation in 2020.

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