Four thoughts

If every Autumn day could be like this one, you would hear me moaning less about the weather…

 

I’m really enjoying keeping up with all the US Open tennis action this year. We’re in a new world, and that’s been highlighted by the fact that we reached the quarter-finals of a Grand Slam without Djokovic, Federer and Nadal being in the last eight. AT LAST!! I know it’s not exactly down to defeats – one of them is injured, one didn’t show up, one got disqualified – but it’s still bloody brilliant to have completely different players within touching distance of a Major.

 

I’ve gone on (quite a bit, to be fair) about the British media and the way they’ve behaved during the coronavirus months. Now that the restrictions are lifting and we seem to be staying on top of the spread, they are switching their attentions back to Brexit. Different topic, but the same tactics: scaremongering, exaggeration, doom-saying and gossip. The entire BBC News channel should be re-named “24-Hour ‘What If???’s”

I’m not disappointed that they’re doing this, it’s what they do and we can expect little more, but I am disappointed that the people who fell into their trap of being terrified to open their front door during the lockdown are now falling into their trap of being terrified about a catastrophic exit from Europe. According to the ‘experts’ that have been dragged up by television schedulers we’ll be running out of food in January, and cut adrift from the mainland by torpedo boats and trained sharks. And people are believing them.

Are we just a nation of worriers now, brainwashed into spending every waking second locked in an anxious bubble?

I fear so….

 

My likelihood of having dreams seems to be affected by the time I go to bed, rather than by what I consume during the evening, or whether or not I have a window open. If my head hits the pillow before 11pm, I tend to sleep through unhindered. Drift the wrong side of midnight and I can end up lost in an imaginary weirdscape of my mind’s creation. Last night, I was Boris Johnson’s hairdresser, trying to tame his barnet while he conducted a meeting on a beach.

I have never before woken up feeling so dirty.

RC 9-9-20