After insulting the whole village whats app (or whatever) group, I thought it would be a grand idea to get up damn early, like a thief in the night (but in this case early morning) and get ready to go out to visit some hills in a far away county; Shropshire, about 50 minutes away and the Long Minge. Only yesterday in the Times there was an article on the best wild swimming sites in the country, so we acted with spontaneity and got top, to leave early and get to the place before e every fucker else did. We did, via the medium of car and then walking. As the morning turned into afternoon folk arrived and the mantra “Stay at home” rung out. I felt like one of the awful people I see on the telly complaining about the amount of day trippers when they are, in fact, Day trippers themselves .
We socially distanced, we were on a less trodden path, but fuck me, this is by no means over. The message perceived by the populous is to crack on, but thinking about it, nothing has changed. We are where we are, and the virus has spread the way it does, from where I am it seems we’ve done very little to alter the trajectory.
After today, all of a sudden, as groups of young adults climb and jump off the platform over the disused reservoir, I feel really depressed.
This isn’t going away, and I’ve got plenty of dystopian tunes rot carry me that way.