Looking out of the window is my blue-sky thinking
George Floyd
EVEN less happened yesterday than the last time that nothing happened.
At least I could then report my early morning, er, toilette. The shaving, the teeth-cleaning and the wash and brush-up.
I can’t write about that again. It would be like offering soiled goods in a haberdashery, if such shops still exist.
I can’t natter on about my walk to the allotment, because I didn’t take one.
Nor about my bus ride into Skipton, as I didn’t leave the house. Again. This lockdown business is hard to shake off. As someone pointed out, the pandemic is a perfect excuse to stay home and do nothing.
“Busy doing nothing, working the whole day through, finding lots of things not to do,” goes the song. But that’s not what big business has in mind. Employers have discovered we can stay home, save the NHS and save the bosses loadsa money.
A year of working at home has proved just as productive as commuting to the office. It’s good for the balance sheet.
Some employers are even installing webcams – spies in the laptop – to punish workers who eat at their desk, look at their phone or fail to keep up the required keystroke rate. They’ll be automatically reported to their supervisors, and we all know what that means. Hyperactivity in the home is the bosses’ new norm. Treadmill Terrace is your new address.
What if some days are like mine yesterday, when nothing happens?
Looking out of the window at the changing skies, and the blooming flowers.
As the poet WH Davies said: “What is this life, if full of care/We have no time to stand and stare?”
Oh, my masters, what have you done!