Let the healing begin
THERE was a feeling that we needed something. Something to bring us together. A deus ex machina if you will. Christmas was coming but real life wasn’t fading into the background the way we like it to do 10 days before Christmas. Brexit was suddenly happening — no ifs, no buts.
When it came to Brexit we were all a bit like climate change deniers. We secretly never believed it was going to happen. But it is. And it seems we are meant to be pleased about it now. Because at least the uncertainty is over. But what if we preferred the uncertainty of thinking it would never happen?
And not only that, but it looks like we’ll be having our own election in the New Year. More divisiveness.
There were strange happenings around the place as well. Three kinds of plague had hit the children of the land. Whole classes of them were wiped out in one fell swoop. If they weren’t blowing snot everywhere, they were puking... and the rest of it. It felt like Victorian times, as they went down with everything from scarlet fever to noroviruses. And of course they started passing these various diseases to the parents. In the workplace, parents of small children were shunned in the canteen as their colleagues tried to avoid the dreaded lurgy.
It became even more like the end of days when we saw nuns carrying a Child of Prague as they fought planning disputes in the courts. I mean, we know they say we all partied when it came to property. But, what, the hermit nuns partied too? And we had bankrupt politicians who, roughly speaking, threatened to burn down their houses rather than live in their constituencies.
And then, like a sign from the Child of Prague, we saw the weather warning yesterday. A yellow snow warning, if you don’t mind. Once we realised that this was not a warning about snow in which a plagueriddled child had had an accident, we rejoiced. A yellow warning for snow and ice in Cavan, Donegal, Leitrim, Mayo, Roscommon and Sligo to be extended, all things going well, to the South West, the Midlands and parts of Connacht.
Thank you Child of Prague, we said. Quick now. Scramble Ciaran Mullooly and the regional correspondents and let’s have a weather emergency to wash away all our sins. We’ll even forgive Murph for a while as he struts around the emergency control centre in his Hi Vis looking concerned. Luckily we’re well stocked up on 20-pack boxes of Tayto and Chocolate Kimberley right now, but maybe we should get some more bread and milk and lock ourselves in.
In fairness, it wasn’t looking like the most extreme weather ever. But we were prepared to meet it half way. At least it would bring us together. As the man said, let the healing begin.