EXCERPT: They had no idea of the mortal danger they were in.

I’ve missed two online meetings in as many days, simply because I have lost track of the days.

I try to stay away from the news. I try to avoid glancing at the headlines on the ‘papers when I enter the shop. What’s the point? I stay in my home or in my radius as asked. I respond to emergency calls when asked. What else can I do?

How will bad news bombardment benefit me? What’s coming down the tracks is coming down the tracks. I suspect it won’t be pretty. The price for the sacrifice we have been asked to make will be burdened by the poor and working classes, no doubt. Sure, aren’t we used to that now?

Wow, that’s a lot of rhetorical questions. I’ve obviously a lot on my mind. I have been trying to suppress it though. I can see my anger from earlier entries. I’m trying to hold my peace more nowadays. I have plenty to be grateful for. My boy, a roof above me, a little bit of writing, my lovely river walk.

I took my boy down to the river. “Dad, come look, baby eels.”

Sure enough there were dozens of elvers, maybe three inches long, swimming in a rockpool left by the receding water. They had no idea of the mortal danger they were in. The pool next to them was a translucent turquoise with an oily sheen on the surface.

Storm drains released a trickle of water into it, obviously the source of whatever it was. Inside that pool there was no life. Barely six inches of rock separated the two pools. I hope, if it rains, it rains hard enough to dilute the deadly blue and wash it away from the hatchlings.

Moral of the story I suppose, I can avoid bad news all I want, in this case environmental degradation. Eventually though, it will come to my door.

Pressure is building. I’m struggling to write, to feel much to be honest. There is a lot of heaviness, even in the weather, but I’m refusing to let it take a foothold. Steam will find a way out some way though.

In rural communities, firefighters are often called to fatalities involving friends, neighbours and cousins. I heard of one poor lad who came across his brother. I’ve been trying to push it to the back of my mind. I can’t though. I will be glad to pay my respects.

Soon enough the alerter will beep again, we will kiss our closest and run…