Screw you Spinning Wheel of Death. Screw you sideways with a blunt, rusty battle axe.

Kilts. There’s a lot to learn about and so much that I don’t yet know, but what I do know, is that I love them, that they make me feel better than ever, that it comes from a place of deep respect for the Scottish culture, and that I feel like I’m connected, standing on the shoulders of my ancestors.

One hundred days have been and gone. All kilt. Every day. No cheat days. No cheat pants. One hundred days, but considering what we have all been through so far, it feels much longer.

From the Aaron Copland and George Gershwin to Buddy Rich and the Beastie Boys, Brooklyn, New York has given the world a lot of joy (not the least being some favourite old Adidas basketball boots I wore to death, which I picked up at the factory outlet in Melbourne for $20 - absolute bargain).

Now, it is at the heart of the COID-19 epidemic and the world has, once again, turned to New York, once again in horror.

Words echo through my head. Words I’ve read, heard, thought, or said. The cruel may say that’s due to the vast empty space in there. Cripplingly, the cruelest voice in this regard is often my own.

I hedged my bets and gave myself an hour to become human, and have some small chance of being lucid and cogent for the upcoming radio interview - and to attempt to drink a cup of tea whilst having the nervous shakes. This wasn’t terribly successful, but at least my hands warmed up quickly!

And before I know it, the producer had me on the line, ready to go on with Ray Terrill - the smoothest voice in the North East, and presenter of ABC Saturday Mornings.

Tomorrow morning, on the eve of the end of daylight savings, at a time that I only though to be a myth, my addled, ineloquent, stuttery mumble will be broadcast across the airways on ABC radio and streaming around the world. Yikes!

You fight for a while, as though through sheer determination you can sleep again, but that makes you even more awake. Sometimes, you make the decision to do something productive if you’re going the be up again, but an addled mind makes productivity impossible. And then, after an hour or two, when the dawns light is beginning to creep across the night sky, and natures alarm clock of birds begin to sing, it’s time again to sleep.

It seems the world has taken April Fools to a new level this year - and got a disturbingly large head start.
If only at noon today, the last 3 months could be erased.
No-one likes these kinds of jokes. No-one finds them very funny.

Screw you 2020. Screw you.

A friend of mine recently asked me about my earliest traumatic memory. Strange question you may say - in retrospect, I probably should have. But after a little thought, my mind settled on something truly harrowing. A children’s show from the early 80’s that was designed to get kids to go to bed on time. What it did, was make me terrified of the dark.

Today, and those preceding it, have been pretty dark. Worries about my family, my parents, work and my career, the local community and the world at large.
Big thoughts. Big feelings. Big hurts.

I was sitting in my shed when I saw the announcement of a new song…

While my eye and mouth had healed, knees mostly recovered save scarring and bursitis, and my ribs began to mend, the most worrying was my finger. I was paranoid and scared. It was in a splint for the longest time, and I was terrified that I’d make any damage worse.

Suddenly, the gigging career that, up until some 15 months prior, had eluded me due to anxiety was slipping away. I couldn’t play, I couldn’t practice. I could barely hold an instrument. Any time I tried, I failed. It was excruciating physically and mentally. And with that, I slipped backwards and was yet again diagnosed with major depressive disorder.

It started with a wave. A simple gesture of humanity between strangers.

Today marks the first anniversary of a small, seemingly innocuous error of judgement, but one with far reaching ramifications.

The world as we know it has changed, and all in a matter of weeks. While there are many people who are living with the consequences of inaction and denial, it’s remarkable how quickly the world has moved on this. Perhaps it’s because the virus doesn’t seem to discriminate very much, and the effects are happening in the short term.

…the gist is clear - stay at home; unless you are a student, or teacher, or work in essential services - which seems to be code for ‘have a job’, or are exercising, or battling the hordes to get toilet paper, or have a blue letterbox where the sun hits it from 9:47 in the morning whilst there is a north easterly breeze of no more than 20 knots, but no less that 5.

They say you can’t predict the future, that hindsight is 20:20, and that we should learn from the past. As Australia becomes gripped by coronavirus, we are in a unique position where we can both see the effects on countries and populations that are further ahead in this pandemic than we are, and have the chance to learn from our modern history, inform ourselves, and make better judgements. Also, as an island, albeit a bloody big one, we can have policies and measures in place that are not affected by neighbouring countries.

Today hasn’t been a great day. If I could take a do-over, I’d be half tempted to grab it with both hands, and yet terrified that it may turn out the same way, and I’d have to go through it all again.

Back in early January, as our country was being ravaged by unprecedented bushfires, there was a lot of discussion on social media. Amongst all the generosity, the donations of time, money and resources, many people were calling for change, protests being organised - there was movement at the station so to speak.

But there were huge numbers of posts admonishing the discussion. Saying that we should be helping, not being keyboard warriors. Saying protests shouldn’t happen. Saying protestors were being selfish and diverting police resources (which coincidently were still seemingly happily diverted to various sporting events). Saying that this wasn’t the time.