Up, up and away!

The OH discovered a video on social meja of a young lady, probably about 19 or 20, expressing her frustration. ‘Nobody understands!’  she wailed, stamping around what looked like the kitchen, ‘I neeeed to go clubbing!’

Quite so.  My heart, of course went out to her while my soul, in sympathy, wailed to the tune of the current restrictions.  Here are some of mine:

I need to go free diving in the sea to 100 feet with my back-up team to ensure I come to no harm, or sharks. I saw a picture in a magazine once, interestingly taken from below, of the long slim diver with the massive flippers, going up, up, out of the dark bit into the light with the long legs in the massive flippers, powering with strength and freedom to the surface.

I neeeed those legs.

The chances of skydiving are not good at present.  I may well wish to jump out at a thousand feet with nine other people to make interesting and artistic shapes in the beautiful blue sky but it cannot be done.  Because of social distancing there is no way we could touch hands to make the star, or feet to make the outward explosion, we cannot stack or breakaway, or even free fall in tandem.  It’s a right pity, it is.

I have always wanted to be part of the see-how-many-people-can-fit-in-a-telephone-box thingy.  Wouldn’t it be hilarious?  Just ten of us, suitably plastered, in swim wear, or better still, really smashed, in the nude, I bet it’s never been done.  I neeeed to do it.  On some holiday destination island with a lot of clubs and drunks.  Epic!

Meanwhile, back at the suburban dwelling all alone, other frustrations are mounting.  Why does the computer only decide to update itself when you are tired and want to go to bed, exactly then? Installing 1 of 15 updates, do not switch me off or I will never go back on again and you’ll be really isolated.  If you do anything other than sit there watching the little spinning thing go round and round, I will break and you’ll never be able to watch videos of cats, or roller skating tortoises again.  Update half a percent complete, fifty more minutes of this boredom to go and if your head drops and you fall asleep on the keyboard I will break forever.  And if you order a new one online the delivery man will hurl it in the porch and you’ll have to spend the rest of your life on the phone to a call centre trying to prove you didn’t break it to get a free one for someone you want to impress and are hoping still fancies you even though you haven’t seen them for eleven months.  Update three and a quarter percent complete, switch off and your life is soooo  ova!  I’m all you’ve got now and don’t I know it!

And when tomorrow you switch on the second screen will suggest, so ungrammatically that ‘I cannot log in. I forgot my password.’  I have forgotten my password dummy, it is not simple past tense, who gave you this power, you ungrammatical oaf!  I don’t require a password at all, I’m the only person here, look around, can you spot the crowd?  No, me neither!

Then there is clothing.  What are you wearing? (Hint, look down.)  Is it the all-day pyjama again?  Is it?  I haven’t worn a ring in nearly a year.  They don’t fit under nitrile gloves.  A bracelet? A brooch?  None of mine were chosen for their relevance to the legging.  I neeed to wear nice clothing almost as much as I neeeed to shovel chocolate in, after which, if we ever surface again I will neeeed bigger clothing.  Clothing manufacturers who have survived would be well advised to design and go into production with extra plus size diamond encrusted easy-wear jogging bottoms with matching cloth-of-gold waist scarves.  You heard it here first long before the long-unused previously thin-as-a-rake models emerge blinking in the sunshine to waddle off down the catwalks, turn, wait for their hips to catch up, and waddle back again

There is going to be a new world order, dictated by our neeeeds. We all neeed to attract a close up skin companion.  In pursuit of this the day will arrive when the huge humans that are left lumber outside, wearing only diamonds to scamper at, collide with and roll around on other left-over humans.  And I, the shortest, fattiest, least grammatical, will be the leader of them all and make a law that we all get freeee joggers, freeee diamonds and freeee chocolate.

Because I neeeed it and I bet you do too.*


* Jane Laverick.com is not responsible for any similarities of opinions expressed to any  politician, or three-year-old.**

**They can stamp their own feet, I just don’t care!

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