Struggling to keep up with pace of change
Sometimes I convince myself I died some time in 2015 and have existed in a dystopian after-life ever since. It’s an odd feeling. This thought pops into my head – often when I should absolutely not be thinking about mortality, like when I’m driving or crossing a rickety jungle canyon rope bridge – because the world is pretty weird.
Last year Donald Trump became president of the United States, people were kidnapped because they had loads of the virtual currency bitcoin, and a cult began living as Moomins.
So far this year Boris Johnson has said we should build a bridge to Calais, The Sun newspaper has delivered a 22ft Bye-EU tapestry to the Bayeux museum, and Michael Gove has done a good job.
I should have known it was just going to get weirder when I spent an hour on December 30 roaming around a late composer’s house – now a museum commemorating his life – in France.
There I saw a giant, pulsating pear with wings and rode a bicycle shaped like a basketball.
The other day I found out about an American rap collective who are addicted to the prescription medication Xanax. They call themselves Xanarchy, are led by Lil Xan and one of their members has a large tattoo of Anne Frank on his cheek and calls himself Xan Frank. They’re pretty big.
Then I was told teenagers have started filming themselves eating washing capsules called Tide Pods. Only one of all the above episodes has been invented and I bet you can’t guess which one it is. At this rate, horses will have (rightly) become our overlords by the end of the year.
I think I’m starting to work out why older generations of my family just couldn’t keep up with the pace of change.