The Barnum Effect

Six months have washed by, on their one way journey into history. The river of time flows inexorably, sometimes meandering placidly, often in full spate - turbulent and roiled by events.  I find it usually manages both at once, which I dub the "slow/fast duality of time".  In an "At-Risk" category, I've spent the majority of my time sheltering at home.  The metronome of work still ticks and tocks, back and forth.  Start work, finish work Start work, finish work Start work, finish work Start work, finish work Start work, finish work Weekend Weekend ... The days waltz by, working from home, with the odd day of annual leave to break the rhythm. It is all somewhat muted without the hurly burly of the commute and the hubbub of the office.  The constraints on my activities external to the house seem to constrain me within the home. I'm oddly stilled. Held quiescent. Time slows. Blink. It has been 6 months. It went by in a flash. Where did the time go?

My earliest fears were of nuclear war. Born during the cold war, I was afraid, especially at night whenever a bright light flooded my room. Was that the flash of a nuclear explosion? Was the catastrophic shockwave about to hit? No - just a car turning in the street - its headlights flashing past my window. I was not yet 10 when I became aware that scientists were starting to predict climate change. This worrying prospect was ignorantly laughed off by one of my primary school teachers, who nonchalantly said it would be nice to have warm summers. Concern about the destruction of the ozone layer came next. Optimism flowered during my late teens. There were signs the world was becoming a better and more tolerant place. The fall of the Berlin wall and the subsequent break up of the Soviet Union made the spectre of nuclear war fade. International bans on CFCs began the healing of the ozone layer, and raised the hope that nations might cooperate to stop climate change. During my early 20s t