Camp and I met by the dock and brought our beers and peeves along.
‘Now that the weather is warmer and it’s light until ten o’clock at night it also means that everything is growing in wild profusion: grass, lawns, shrubs, flowers, gardens and noise,’ Camp said.
‘Noise? You mean the birds and frogs?’
‘I woke up this morning and I see a world transformed by Covid-19. If anything could stop a way of life and break the cultural heart of the world then this virus has done a pretty good job. Nothing in my life time has had a similar impact. ‘I doubt that anybody remembers a time when we cannot touch, hug or be close to others,’ I said to Camp, who was lighting his pipe.
The local butcher offered a weekend special for twenty bucks: 1lb of home cured bacon, 4 house-made sausages and 1 dozen backyard eggs.I also bought too much half/half cream because I forgot I already had enough cream for the week. What to do? A quiche that’s what. Here goes:
‘Are we a bubble or a pod?’ I asked Camp as we sat down on his porch for our Thirsty Thursday meeting. It was a nice sunny day and the birds were going crazy.
‘I guess you and I are a pod since we spend a lot of time together, as are Muriel and I and you and Clare. If the four of us get together then we’re a bubble since we amalgamated two pods.’
‘What do you expect from politicians?’ Camp asked shaking his head
‘It’s not wisdom or learnedness, not even fairness or correctness but simple honesty would be a good start. Do they ever admit to being wrong, having made the wrong decision, taken the wrong side, being fooled by a good story?’ I said.