Spring

 You’ll be glad to know it feels like spring has finally arrived in Ireland today. About time, says you. You could be a bit more gracious but I understand the sentiment. Still we live in the present, and yesterday’s weather - cold, bitterness, endless rain, whatever - has no hold over us now. “It’s easy for you to say that. We’re the ones who had to live through it. We’re not going to forget about it that easy.” Maybe I should revise that last claim about the past losing its grip on us once it becomes the past. We are creatures after all of history, and I suppose we don’t need to pretend things didn’t happen, but at the same time you have to be free to move with the current also, into the present and beyond. And so we must remember ... no, I can’t keep going in that vein, and as fast I presume as I lose interest in writing such edifying stuff the reader is probably also losing interest in reading it. And I wouldn’t blame him. Or her.

No, no, we’re not going bowing to banality here, assuming each other’s mutual stupidity and working upwards from there, laboriously. We should instead, free beings as we are, be enjoying this warm, lovely spring day - and without some stupid mask on our faces trapping all our exhaled bad breath which we then have to breathe back in - for reasons of health. I’ve spoilt things again by wading back into controversial waters. If I don’t watch myself the spring will vanish out of lack of appreciation and we’ll be back into winter. Time instead for fresh air, coffee, book, birds, warmth - or at at least mildness - and the rising waters of liberty.