The missus was back at the dentist yesterday and on the drive back home she told me about the conversation she was privy to between the Doc and the nurse. They were trying to calm her down I guess by playing at idle banter and I reckon they may have had the same conversation 3 times that day already. But anyway, the Doc asked the nurse what she missed most during the lockdown.
Browsing in shops apparently, and the Doc said he missed his best mate’s wedding. He missed that, and he hates feeling like a criminal every time he takes a stroll with his kiddies.
In the car on the way home, my missus told me, mumbly-numbly that she missed Op Shops.
It got me thinking too about what I miss most.
Normalcy, I miss.
Not life without a coronavirus, I mean life with its fickle ups and downs where you plan, strategise, labour, strive. A life with choices you got to make for your own good, the family’s good, for the industry, the market, Australia, the planet …whatever.
Choice is gone and has been replaced by clumsy autocracy.
1 person per 4 m2 … like it’s always been? I see in the news today that, in NSW if you find yourself locked up/down in a council flat … it’s rationing. One six-pack, per punter, per day.
That’s not normal.
Trust, I miss.
The Doctatorship has become doctrinaire and while their gibbering mantra refers endlessly to the science, nothing scientific can be accessed. We’re looking into it says Andrews.
Still? Eighteen months later.
Hmm, that stinks because you aren’t actually asking us to trust science, you’re actually telling everybody to trust you. Your lot even held an inquiry into the Hot Hotel fiasco … and found no answers.
While Govt mistrusts, I miss trust.
Goodwill, I miss.
What used to be my company, my revenue, my bad luck or good luck, my equity, has been ever so subtly taken over and handed to the Commons. There’s an expectation that we perform on demand but without the previous autonomy or benefits. Good is now co-opted into an expanding narrative of the greater good. Whose?
Good, apparently, is doing what you’re told. These days being ‘essential’, I just feel like a slave. Every day I’m pressured into navigating the covid-strewn battlefield while the Nannas and politicians and captains of industry are all cowering in place. 18 months and I’m still not dead yet.
While Govt seems to feel successful or triumphant, I don’t feel good, I feel stupid.
With fickle and feckless abandon, our Governors have made every business dance. Comply or fail. Get on board or be turfed overboard. What would any of them know about running a gym, a coffee shop, a college, or deploying industrial computer control systems? Do they care?
See, at the same time, the Govs have taken it on, or shifted where our duties lie, what they haven’t taken on any responsibilities. Oh no, financially and legally you’re on your own there. Landlords, on the count 3, 2, 1 …suck it up. Bad luck mate.
They changed the rules and have effectively grabbed ownership and I’ll bet they’re all proud of how easy it all was to steal, and how necessary.
A Govt inquiry can’t even find accountability which, I guess is necessary if the ends are to justify the means.
Look into their dead eyes as they lecture you via television about how stupid we all are. “Can you tell the difference between a cough and covid cough…?”
Like staring down the barrel of a gun. “Well, can ya … punk?”
The Departments of Health and Justice need your stuff for the greater good but once everything remaining is inside The Commons, it will be a Commons full of empty things.
No value, no goodwill, or trust … not even hope.
I miss Hope the most.