We are now sufficiently into 2021 to realise, again, that the movement of a timepiece at midnight on a particular date makes little or no difference in human affairs. Sure, I have noticed a lot of new swimmers at my local pool, and passing the gym this morning, every machine had a customer. But that is the particular and here, I mean, the general.

The world is much the same as it was, in equal parts awful and good. Last year was a bit of a zinger for the current generations who, having been coddled by modernity, are ready to stage a revolt over the colour of a toothbrush or the use of a pronoun. I don't deal with adversity all that well myself but having a broad historical perspective, I can locate analogues for 2020 at many times and places in the past. That brings some comfort. Complaints about having one's lifestyle impeded in some way by a pandemic, when all the basics for human survival are intact, does not cut the mustard.

I know that I think too much, certainly too much for my own good. But thinking is also a wonderful pass-time when others systems fail or when normality is up-ended. It is a resource that connects with so many other resources. Having had more time on my hands has meant I have written more. I apologise for the appearance of additional poetry in this blog. It happens when the gloomier side of me is in the ascendant. A correction is due soon.