Madness, Then Sanity.

 A friend came to visit.

Apparently, this is illegal.

My friend, however, had studied the regulations and, seemingly, if we agreed that we were in 'a bubble' (whatever that means) her visit was permissible.

She wanted to take her (permitted!) exercise by walking along the beach here at Littlehampton.

Mysteriously, I have a severe back pain, do I waited for her by sitting on the (literally) ice-cold, outside benches at the East Beach café.

Observing the scene.

Among which was one couple with a black Labrador dog.

Now, one of my distant relatives is a game-keepper, amongst whose working dogs were Labrador . . .  retrievers.

As I recall it, Labradors are notoriously greedy, 'dustbins', and will eat, literally, anything and everything that might be deemed 'food' by other organisms.

Paranthetically, another couple, presumably in their 'bubble' sat with another, but much smaller, lap dog. Which one of these bubblees caressed, cuddled and kissed on the head and lips in much the way that one might embrace s lover.

Or, these days, a baby.

Meanwhile, the first couple's food had arrived. The man tucked in voraciously into his sausage and chips, in a paper tray: doubtless becoming, rapidly, ice-cold sausage and chips in a paper tray.

Meanwhile, his bubblee, perhaps wife, fed raw sausages to the dog, purchased alongside the freshly-cooked food: the empathy of a shared meal.

And, yes, the Lab did get the tail-end of a cooked sausage after much billing and cooing.

Now, several hours' later, my mind is taken back to various plays in the nineteen-sixties or there-abouts.

Now, we Quakers had a Testimony Against Acting but, now, a number of prominent Friends are, or have recently been, distinguished, well-respeted, talented and empathetic actors.

Acting, of course, requires the actor to memorise and repeat some-one else's words: words that are fictional for the most part.

I recall one such play, where the two actors sat in dustbins speaking to one-another and out towards an audience: some of whom might have known what was going on.

For me, it appeared to be the author's depiction of madness.

Such as now.

Except that the Theatres are closed.

With exception of life-as-presently lived.

Until, of course, we decide that enough-madness is enough.

Just like the man caught on video recently at Uxbridge going from shop to shop carrying around himself, as his personal bubble, a plastic greenhouse.

Art, madness, Covid, sanity.

Then #truesocialism

By Tuesday!