Dumpster fire

Back in the halcyon days of this blog – think the period in Star Trek history during the mid-90s when there were two popular shows on TV and the movies were going gangbusters – I used to write a year in review at the end of the each year talking about what television shows, movies, albums, books and other general stuff I'd enjoyed over the previous 365 days.

Now, let's be honest, those halcyon days are long gone. I have no idea if anyone still looks at this thing. It's now that fallow period in Star Trek history between Enterprise being cancelled and the Chris Pine movies starting (some would include the Chris Pine movies in that fallow period and they are wrong and I will chase them round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares Maelstrom and round Perdition's flames to prove them wrong), but I felt compelled, for some reason, to look back on this absolute dumpster fire of a year, even though we still seem to have *checks calendar* 4237 more months to go until it's over.

The poster child for 2020

Remember when the year started and everyone was texting each other at midnight on New Year's Eve saying "this is going to be the best year EVAH!" and claiming that the 'Roaring Twenties' were going to be so much fun like we were all going to dress as flappers and throw it down to jaunty jazz music. Larks!

And then we got to March and Boris Johnson went on telly to tell us that the Government was going to effectively pay us to stay at home, eat cake, get fat and Netflix and chill. And despite the fact that Netflix and chill with Boris sends shivers down the nation's collective spines, we all did it. How fun, because it would all be over in a few weeks, right?

Cue Olivia Coleman as the Queen-style 'Oh dear.'

"Oh dear."

And the first few weeks (how long is a week now, anyway? Eighty four days?) were quite fun. I had no work, which was fine, so I just sat around reading books and trying to complete Netflix. It's funny how weeks of nothing have a strange effect on you – I got weirdly obsessed with the old TV show SeaQuest DSV at one point. A friend sent me the first two seasons on DVD which I blitzed, then I went searching for the three novels that were published in the mid-90s before everyone realised it was an awful television show and no one had any interest in a talking dolphin or books about a talking dolphin. I found them on eBay at slightly inflated prices. 

"Go on," said TOH. "Treat yourself. It's been a difficult year. We all deserve something nice."

So I bought them.

What was Spielberg thinking?

 

Around this time was my brother's birthday. Obviously I couldn't visit – I live in Wales now, we'll come back to that sometime in the future – plus we were still in lockdown, which is an awfully exciting way of saying have you really watched everything on Netflix? Why don't you try some baking now? So everyone tried baking and all the supermarkets ran out of flour. Cue me looking at a large box of Daz washing powder in the local Co-op for a good two minutes while pondering "will anyone really be able to pick up the faintly soapy taste if I mask it with lemon frosting?"

So anyway, I told Big Bro I would post him his presents and OF COURSE see him for Sparky Pa's birthday in June. This was still when June was two months after April.

So then some work came in and I started teaching some online yoga classes via Zoom, which is an app that to this day I CANNOT wait to delete from my phone because I never want to hear the word Zoom again and even after eleventy twelve years of using it no one is able to end a Zoom meeting with anything other than a super awkward wave and countless "bye, bye, bye, byyyyyyye" like when you used to have phone calls with your nan. I also found a really good website that sells vintage sci-fi books and started spending a lot of money there because it's been a difficult year and we deserve to treat ourselves now and then.

Meanwhile, people on the internet either a) dyed their hair, b) shaved all their hair off, or c) bemoaned the fact they couldn't have a haircut. TOH bought some clippers because his mop was going full Lion-O and recruited me to trim it. With clippers in one hand, nail scissors in the other and a faintly terrified expression on my face I started going at his hair like I used to go at the bush overhanging my parking space at the old Sparky Towers. "Can you blend it in like my barber does?" he asked as I stepped back in horror to take a look at what I'd inflicted on him. 

"How do you feel about a number one all over?" I replied.

"Oh dear."

Dad's birthday came and went, and although I could've driven down to have a socially distanced cuppa with him and Sparky Ma in their garden, Sparky Ma talked me out of it because "it's a long way to drive just for a cup of tea and I'm not sure if Boris would let you come into the house to use the toilet before driving back." So I FaceTimed in and was passed around on Sparky Ma's iPad, which at several points fell backwards on its stand so now I have a pretty decent idea of what it feels like to be a dropped phone.

More months (years?) rolled by and I bought a replica Star Trek: Discovery phaser, a Voyager PADD replica and some combadges because it had been a difficult year and I deserved to treat myself. Every now and then I pick up the phaser and do a wibbly-wobbly walk through the kitchen like I'm Saru. It's simple pleasures that keep us entertained in these difficult times. 

Summer was nice, for the most part. It's easy to be told to stay at home when the weather holds, but then again I live in Wales now so one minute you're in the garden sunning yourself in your Speedos and the next you're throwing the end of a scarf over your shoulder and googling 'galoshes.'

One sartorial accessory we didn't foresee trending was the face mask. But when the government did its whole 'go out, but don't go out, go to work, but don't go to work, use public transport, but don't use public transport, oh, and why not go and have a cheap dinner (but maybe don't)' thing they swiftly became this year's HOT NEW THING. Stung by criticism that I wore only black ones (I liked the idea of looking like a ninja, OK?) I then treated myself to some more colourful ones (because it's been a difficult year and we deserve nice things).

"Oh dear."

Sparky Ma's Birthday was in September and by now this was the longest time I'd gone without seeing my family, so sod it, I jumped in the car and drove down to drop her presents off. She just happened to be in the front garden as I pulled up and promptly burst into tears (I'm hoping because she was pleased to see me, not because she was thinking "dammit, he's back," but you can never be too sure). We're not allowed to hug these days so we bumped elbows – because it's either that, do the Vulcan salute, or hands in prayer and Namaste the shit out of people now – had a socially distanced cup of tea and a doughnut and then I got back in the car and drove home. Mum said it was the best birthday ever, and I'm assuming she meant the surprise of me visiting not the idea of me getting in the car and driving back to Wales, but, again, you can never be too sure.

By now with a stack of around twenty unread books (because it has been a difficult year and I deserved to treat myself)–

"Oh dear."

–and having aged about seventy years, it was clear that this whole Covid-19 thing wasn't going to go away in a few weeks. And that's when I started getting wound up by people on the internet getting nutty. The glimmer of hope that the vaccines in development might work and be here sooner than expected inevitably brought out the crazies and the anti-vaxxers and the anti-5G 'Bill Gates wants to microchip us' lot. Let me break this down with some bullet points, because Timmy loves a bullet point:

• If there's a microchip small enough that shadowy Government agencies can inject it into me in order to track me for the rest of my life can I just say: TELL ME MORE ABOUT THIS REMARKABLE TECHNOLOGY because I just bought a new iPhone (it's been a difficult year and I deserved to treat myself) and I still have to charge it at least once a day. Whatever incredible battery is in this tiny chip to power it for the next 40 years, I want it in my phone NOW.

• Do we all really think our lives are interesting enough to warrant being tagged by the Government? Because quite frankly, all the 'they just want to track us lot' are exactly the same people who tag their location on Facebook all the time (usually at the fucking gym like anyone gives a shit), using their GPS-enabled phone. I'm pretty sure they're doing the work of that miracle microchip already.

• And finally, my new iPhone is 5G-enabled and so far I've resisted any orders to go full-Terminator, take someone's clothes, boots and motorcycle and hunt down all the Sarah Conners in the country. Not that I'd need the boots because I've bought two lovely new pairs in the last couple of months. Hush, it's been a difficult year.

Quite frankly I can't see us all turning into the Borg just yet, but if we do I'm all for being a sexy drone with a twiddly thing on the end of my arm.

"Oh dear."

It's weird how people have stopped taking the whole thing seriously. We were all scared of this invisible plague at first and stayed inside lest someone cough in our faces or try to lick us in the street. And then people went "oh, it's not that bad, it's just like a cold." And that's why I snapped at someone in Boots the other day and glared at the two women in the shopping centre today who were walking around with their masks tucked under their chins and smug 'well we're still wearing them' expressions on their faces. And then there's the people who say "well, do you actually know anyone that's had it?" and you can tell they expect you to say no. But I do. I know a few people who've had it. One's a friend I know from social media. He went quiet a few weeks back and just as I'd started worrying about him he posted how he'd got it and it had, quite frankly, knocked him for six (this is an understatement). 

He posted a video on Facebook that he asked be shared. I did, and if we're friends on Facebook please go to my page and watch it. It's not easy viewing seeing someone NOT HAVING A VERY GOOD TIME OF IT; in fact, it's pretty harrowing, which probably explains why no one has commented on it or acknowledged it in any way, because Facebook is surely just somewhere where we post kitten videos and bonkers conspiracy theories and click 'maybe' to social events we have no intention of going to.

And that's why, when the jab becomes available and they say I can have it I'll be strutting up, ripping my t-shirt off and screaming 'jab me!' with every ounce of my being. Because if it means I can hug my parents, high-five my brother and fist-bump my best mate I'm here for it. Until then, I'll be wearing a mask in public. I'll be encouraging others to stay safe and stick to the rules and I'll avoid going out unnecessarily. Because I don't want to get it. I mean, if I did it might just be like a bad cold. Or it could fuck up my lungs for the rest of my life. I don't want to run the risk of finding out.

Anyway, there's enough to be doing at home without even thinking about going out. There's a stack of books that reaches my knee, The Crown's back on Netflix and I'm pondering whether I'm going to buy that nice coat I've had my eye on for a while. 

Hush. It's been a difficult year.