Let us hope the traditional winds of March blow away the terrible doom and gloom February managed to level upon a world already besotted with sadness and sickness. Today marks the one-year anniversary of when most of us became fully aware of the terrible burden that the COVID 19 pandemic would spread upon our collective souls. We had been promised an inconvenience of weeks, of perhaps months, at longest a recovery by summer, Autumn, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, a time scale seemingly open ended even now twelve months in.
All time had proved is that science and medicine with their expected vagaries are incapable of any consistent answer to any question floated by the general public. Whether our enlightened ruling peers have any better clue is debatable, I am sure they think they have all the percentiles worked out in fine print, but rather doubt their assumptions are accurate. For the first time in an eon the intelligentsia are as lost as we the poor plebs, floating seeming endlessly down the same tragic river of despair arm in arm with the rest of humanity.