The C Word and the Sunday Feeling.

There’s a long post wandering around my head on the subject of the Establishment’s and media’s almost total and tiresome preoccupation with coronavirus. But it’s complicated; there are too many ifs and buts clouding the arguments and I’m not in the mood for further complications at the moment. What I’ll do instead is say this.

I always disliked Sundays, especially when I was younger and nearly everything closed on a Sunday. I always felt a sense of stagnation in the air; life seemed to slow down to the point where people became semi-comatose, and the flow of natural energy felt laboured and uncomfortable. HSPs are highly sensitive to atmospheres, and so are INFJs. It isn’t surprising, therefore, that my mood was always subdued on a Sunday.

And now the Sunday feeling has become ubiquitous. Town centres are so much quieter than usual. The pubs and catering establishments are closed and so are some of the shops. The schools are closed, the sporting calendar is in stasis, and the message is resoundingly one of ‘stay indoors and avoid contact with other humans.’ Even the village Quiz Night where I live has been cancelled. It seems that every day is now Sunday.

That’s why I would personally prefer it if people ignored the whole issue and carried on as normal. I’m not recommending it, of course, because I realise that to do so would probably set in motion an exponential progression leading to more deaths. But it’s how feel. I could do without having the cocktail of health issues and other worries being further augmented by the consequences of a plague, dragging me further into the dark place which has become my natural environment of late.

But I rely on the presumption that all this will pass in due course. And in the meantime I make humorous comments on the issue here because that’s a notable British characteristic. When faced with adversity we like to laugh at it in whatever way we can. Maybe others do the same. I wouldn’t know.