The light and the darkness

There is a group of people in Dublin city, who think it’s reasonable that their dogs defecate all over the pavements and parks, and they think it’s just fine to leave the mess there.  Most dog owners pick up the poo and dispose of it responsibly, but a smaller sub-section do not adhere to these rules.  Some people pick up the poo, but then leave the little plastic bags of excrement on the tops of walls, on the branches of trees, or down on the ground where they think no one can see. 

I don’t know why these people think this behaviour is OK, but I do wish they would stop.

Another group of people I have grown to despise, is those who enjoy their urban picnics and leave their rubbish behind.  They like to leave their empty drinks and food containers behind in the parks or on the banks of canals, and they believe it’s reasonable for someone else (a person who is not them), to come along and clean up the mess.  For some reason, they find it impossible to take the rubbish home with them, if the litter bins are full, and so leave it behind until, when? 

I don’t know why these people think this behaviour is OK, but I do hope soon, they will stop.

A third group of people I begrudge, dislike and am hateful of, is the people who play music loudly in public.  There is a direct correlation between how loudly someone plays their music, and how God awful it is.  For some magical reason, they believe that I would like to enjoy them playing the same song seven times in a row, and they consider my afternoon enhanced by my chance to listen to their tunes.

Last, but not least are the Guideline Breakers, and they believe the lockdown rules don’t apply to them.  They drop into the shop without a mask, or they go the wrong way round a one way supermarket.  They have a few friends over on a Friday night, or an impromptu barbecue in the garden.

These are the four most hated groups of people in Ireland, according to a survey that I just devised and answered myself.  These are the most heinous crimes, against other citizens in the city, and the final list above is as it is.

I finally understand how so many of the witches, accused of magic in the medieval period, were originally accused by people they knew.  The women were tried and sentenced by the Inquisitors and the Church, but they came to the authorities’ attention after being identified by people from their own villages and communities. 

Now I know why.

Those villagers were just really, really cross.

I’m so tired and weary and fed up and really, really cross, aren’t you? 

If I were a medieval villager, I would probably accuse almost everyone I knew of heresy, just for the fucking hell of it, and yes my little reader, that includes YOU!  You’ve probably broken some guideline, or played music too loudly, so I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.  You’re accused too!  If it makes you feel any better, you can accuse me too. 

I don’t care.

We’re speeding out of another lockdown, while the mutating virus continues to rage, and the death toll skips into its third million.  While this surreal, grotesque, nightmare-fairy tale continues we dance, and play music and we laugh.  The glaciers are melting, the sea water levels are rising, the forests are on fire and we’re outside enjoying the unseasonably good April weather.

Our selfish species continues to lie to itself and sleep, while ignoring the very mess we leave behind.  We defecate, abandon rubbish, play music too loudly and ignore the guidelines we wrote, while we shrug and ask, “what can we do?”

It’s all so effortlessly non-permanent, ever changing and mystical, but the real mystery is just out of reach.  The answers are just beyond the blue light at dawn or the remains at the bottom of a tea cup. 

We were once all under the sea, and the dinosaurs once called this home.

What can I say; things change. 

One day, we weren’t here, and one day we won’t be here again; the light and the darkness are the same.