Small Mercies

Any day which begins with the re-election of a fascist psychopath as the leader of the free world is going to be a difficult one.

That sense of dread that I was referring to a few days back? Sometimes, just sometimes, the incessant worrying of the anxiety-afflicted individual is justified. All we need now is for the UK to further ostracise itself, bring back BoJo and boom, we’re back in 2016!

The question that kept pinging around my head this morning was: how bad must things be in America for Donald Trump, that’s Donald “convicted felon, ‘inject disinfectant’ to beat covid, ‘grab ‘em by the p***y’” Trump, to be the answer? 

“Dost thou not laugh?
No, coz, I rather weep.”

I was interested to see that Samm had also turned to Shakespeare for reference, and where I have co-opted Romeo & Juliet, she went for The Tempest: “hell is empty and all the devils are here”.

The day has not been entirely without its positives, which include a lunchtime brew and catch up with a friend (who also got me a gift which I’m sure will feature in a future December-based blip) and there is the remainder of last night’s cottage pie and a rehearsal to look forward to later today.

Right now is the time to be thankful for small mercies.