The demolition of the Magistrates’ Court reflects my emotions and perhaps our situation.
In Troubles JG Farrell pulls this off magnificently, using The Majestic Hotel in Kilnalough to represent the condition of Ireland in 1920. I will not re-read it just now as I need more up-beat fare. I feel a bit sorry for myself but massively sorrier for anyone living on their own in a domestic prison. Apparently there’s light at the end of the tunnel but how long is the tunnel and how fast are we moving through it?
The thing to do under these very trying circumstances is to take a leaf out of the amoeba’s book and adapt. I don’t suppose the first amoebas had extensive libraries but they evolved, taking advantage of evolution, probably without knowing what the word meant with any certainty.
This morning I bought this fine metal thermos flask for £10 at the BP filling station to the east of the magistrates’ court, bottom right. It is about to be re-purposed as the Bellew Mobile Martini Unit, dispensing cheer to friends on park benches (one friend at a time) this Christmas-tide. My delicate liver will take a bit of a battering in this good cause.
That sounds a fun park bench. I hope you will not. on your own
Maybe that’s why members of Inns of Court are called ‘benchers’. Peace and joy