Supply and demand

There are two things that, generally speaking, I really do not enjoy, these are: mass public melodrama and social trends. These dislikes are possibly irrational and triggered by my clinical depression, so bear with me while I maniacally vent spleen. Now, I know that what is going on right now does not technically constitute a social trend, but it FEELS like one. It has all the irritating hallmarks, so that is where my brain is filing it. The melodrama, I assume, I am mercifully avoiding, having removed myself from social media last year. I'm glad that people are taking positive action and not just wallowing in misery about it all; in fact, there's a real "Dunkirk spirit" taking hold, which is encouraging. However, a mildly creepy commercialisation and a sort-of “pandemic chic” has arisen and is seeping through to me, no matter how much I attempt to shut the world out. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite by having a rant myself, all this is giving a lot of people the opportunity to make speeches, usually by email. Each day, I have to wade through paragraph after paragraph of pontificating bollocks that’s merely a regurgitation of what we already know, just to get to the point of what the sender (retailers, service providers etc.) is messaging their customers about. Sigh. But it’s ok, I’ve been managing to get my hands on some booze.

Which leads us to…

I’ve managed to get my hands on some booze! LOADS OF IT! It’s nearly all gone now, but it sure has sped up the last couple of weeks. Last Wednesday, that woman who works at my local pub and I went for a walk to the local shops together. Don't worry, we were both safely enclosed in our own lead-lined, 12-feet in diameter social distancing exercise balls. You know, like guinea pigs have. I was getting really anxious about dealing with the public, especially with my visual impairment and my obvious inability to read instructional signage outside shopfronts. And they are out there. It was the first time I’d been out in a few weeks and we had a lovely chat. She even helped me carry my beer home – all 24 cans of it! I think I’m probably eligible for some obnoxious lads’ mag award for having an attractive woman carry a crate of lager home for me. But I wouldn’t accept it, of course. I’m not that kind of guy. While in the shop, I did keep forgetting to stay within the black lines that the staff had laid out on the floor for customers, but nobody freaked out. It was a surprisingly drama-free experience. Once we got back to mine, I said I’d take over all the carrying duties outside the building, as my flat’s in too much of a messy state for people to come in and, erm, experience. Which is the truth, although I think she would have been happy to come all the way up. I don’t think she likes me in THAT way, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her. Anyway, I think she has a boyfriend, so I’m happy to wait for her to make any moves in that direction. I’m a pretty passive fella.

The next four days passed by in a boozy blur, believe it or not. My memory starts to return around Sunday. This was quite a good day, actually, as I finally managed to get a grocery delivery slot! It genuinely felt like I’d won the lottery. I didn’t panic buy, but I did have a backlog of things I desperately needed. I usually spend about £60, but this week I spent double that. Odd really, as there really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary that turned up. I’m blaming my general household needs. Still, it’s been really great having some fresh food in the flat and some of my favourite snacks (most importantly: Cofresh’s Balti Cashews, which I heartily recommend!). The delivery guy was a little aggressive with his social distancing anxiety. I wasn’t sure what the drill was, so he kept shouting “Stay back!”. I was all like “Yeah... ok, dude... I’m cool”. He even mentioned that his wife had cancer, like to guilt-trip me or something. I didn’t think that was necessary. I was so glad when he left. He’d made me really anxious. See? This is why I hate all this – not for the fear of catching something and dying, but having to deal with society differently, which I’m not great at even on a good day. Especially having to deal with a society that’s reveling in melodrama (faux or otherwise) which, having experienced it ad nauseum on social media, I’m now fighting to avoid “off the grid” and at my very front door.

And this weekly clapping thing can get lost. Sheep, the lot of them.

Please be patient with me, I need to get all this frustration out. Growing up in a military family has left me feeling, well, rather disconnected from society. I struggle with empathy, sometimes.

Oh, I forgot to mention, the day after I went on that platonic walk, those three cases of beer turned up from that online supplier, so I had EVEN MORE booze to work through! Woohoo! So, yes, that’s definitely kept me busy. I best not have any tonight, as I really need to pick up my medication tomorrow. Why does it always run out just before the weekend?! Alas!

Actually, I have noticed that, since these new antidepressants have kicked in, my noisy neighbours haven’t been bothering me as much. One of them actually shouted down the stairwell to the other today to get them to turn their music down but, I dunno, it’s just not been getting to me. I’m seeing that as a positive change. I mean, why not? Still, that did make me laugh earlier.

Oh, I watched the 1987 biopic Prick Up Your Ears the other day. It’s directed by Stephen Frears and stars Gary Oldman and Alfred Molina as romantically entangled but sort-of-competing writers. I wanted this for my “movies about creativity” collection, but it also fits neatly into my LGBT collection. Hmmm, I’ll decide later where to slip it in. Most importantly, the film also stars Julie Walters and Vanessa Redgrave – two of my favourite people in the universe ever. Redgrave is actually a lot like that woman I went for a walk with last week, so you can see why I’m smitten. Prick Up Your Ears actually has some minor similarities to Withnail & I, which was released the same year. Both films are about two creative types of differing skill and potential living together, with one being very flamboyant and self-doubting, while the other is more sedate and quietly self-confident. Obviously, the homoeroticism in Withnail & I is purely subtext, while in Prick Up Your Ears it is text. I recommend a double bill, perhaps a triple, if anyone can think of a third film with similar themes. That can be your homework for this week, lovers.

Righty, I best go, as I’ve got a curry on the hob. Homemade, of course! Yay! I haven’t had to order a takeaway for “fresh” food in a week and a half! Amazing!

Anyway, I hope you are all keeping well and succeeding in not tearing your hair out with boredom.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!