One week since the effect of the pandemic really began to take hold, quite staggering how our island has totally inverted in but seven days.
The effects of physical and social isolation are commencing to show in oft good but sometimes worrying ways. A sense of community has returned in some areas, people being supportive to family and neighbors, being responsible for the way our actions and choices automatically have a profound effect on others whether we like it or not. The less pleasant, but ever multiplying effects of enforced demarcation include increases in suspicion, selfishness, jealousy, aggression, overt critique of action or purpose, many of the same consequences endemic in segregation of any form, political, social, racial, or in this instant medical. Boundaries between the negative influences are liable to constant flux making one, say medical, easily transmute into another, say social. Beware the blurring of divisions of distrust and especially the wiles of fearmongers, crisis ever brings the extreme and extremist bursting to the surface.
The old normal will never return, like it or not our world has now eternally changed. Perhaps we have truly finally witnessed the end of Camelot.
Alice was decidedly disappointed. The battle of the Tweddle’s proved more vocal than physical, the number of darn-its and take-thats far outweighing any blows landed.
“This affair is a good sight different from my last experience of serious violence.”
“What sort of violence do you usually encounter?”
Alices offhand remark had been aimed at no one in particular but was collected and answered quite briskly by a rather disheveled woman, dressed entirely in white, who appeared quite mysteriously at Alice’s left elbow. The female wore upon her head a tarnished but still recognizably regal diamanté encrusted gold crown. Alice, forever polite, bobbed the cutest of curseys.
“Your majesty, I apologize for my candor.”
Her majesty, if indeed majesty she was, shifted her weight nervously from side to side quite as if standing upon very hot coals.
“You must excuse my imposing upon your conversation, I just happened to be fleeing past as you were musing about violently acquired canned ear.”
Alice once more could feel herself being drawn inextricably into a fantastic plot over which she would and could have neither control nor particular input. With a karmic sigh she decided to backtrack to her original point.
“My father’s university is prone, on occasion, to host inter collegiate bare-knuckle boxing contests. I am not really supposed to witness such manly displays, but I have to admit the sight of two strapping chaps stripped to the waist flailing at each other for minutes on end is so exciting I really cannot resist a peak or two. My bedroom window overlooks the quadrangle so it is very easy to be discreet.”
Far from seeming shocked the lady in white placed an arm around Alices shoulders and drew her a little closer to her side.
“That doth sound a rather moving sight indeed. This present bout has none of the necessities to make a girl or woman feel the slightest flushed.”
This sharing of secrets emboldened Alice to a question.
“Might I ask, your majesty, why you are fleeing quite so hastily?”
“The Red Queen, dear child, tis always the Red Queen. I really meant no sort of disrespect, just quite casually purchased a box of the most delicious strawberry tartlets from that beast of a son of hers and the next thing I know here comes the executioner sharpening his axe.”
Alice tutted sympathetically suitable loudly.
“That certainly does seem a trifle extreme…..”
“Trifle? Trifle? Did you say you have trifle?”
Tweedledum hearing the description of his quite favorite sweet had lost all interest in the battle and turned his entire concentration to the sponge cake, jelly and custard concoction so suddenly and unexpectedly mentioned. Tweedledee, being a little hard of hearing and missing all mention of pudding, took the opportunity to box his brother very painfully about the scuttle covered ears. Dum was beaten to the ground momentarily.
“Well that seems quite the end of that! Shall we walk my dear?”
Leading Alice by the hand the White Queen walked at a good pace into a nearby copse of mulberry trees.
“What a lot of beautiful Butterflies.”
The Queen seemed anything but surprised by the vivid display of Bombycidae.
“Moths, my dear, they are moths not butterflies.”
By some strange twist of fate the White Queens middle name was pedantic.
“Thank you for the clarification, Majesty… … ..”
Alices words were interrupted by the hullabaloo of a pack of playing cards cutting through the trees.
“You will have to excuse me, child.”
The White Queen took to her satin singback’s and fast disappeared into the depths of the white leaved mulberry trees causing a new multitude of moths to rise from their luncheon to fill the air with delicate forms. Alice wisely decided to take shelter inside the adjacently situated haberdashery shop.
“Good afternoon, can I help you find something?”
The llama was sitting behind the counter crocheting what appeared to be a rather intricately patterned white baby shawl.