Dr Kristopher Lovell

This country makes me sick. Yesterday was VE Day and the news coverage of people just abandoning everything and having street parties is astounding. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fan of nationalist, jingoistic BS at the best of times, but there’s a depressing irony about people getting together to celebrate the sacrifices of others whilst refusing to do the same themselves. I can’t help but wonder how many people will suffer as a result of this, or how many would have been saved if it was raining yesterday.
I just choked on a crumpet. The only thought that popped into my head while I was trying to cough was how sad it would be to die alone in my flat because of a crumpet. And then there are people living with their families in suburbia, with gardens and people around them who just can’t possibly be denied the chance to throw up the bunting and risk making everything worse. I haven’t had a meaningful non-virtual interaction with another soul in months, but somehow, I just can’t bring myself to endanger other people or to contribute to this goddamn situation carrying on for longer than it has to because I want to see everyone I know. Even if I’m risking a premature carb-related death in the process.
In all seriousness, please don’t think I’m going out tutting at families who go out and play frisbee on the playing fields, or taking pictures of people sitting on benches – everyone is dealing with their situations as best they can, and lots of us don’t have the luxury of our own outside spaces. But somehow, I just can’t see how it’s legitimately okay to throw a massive party.
My brother is a paramedic and he is having to deal with some awful stuff at work. I was on the phone with him yesterday and he had to pause to report the house across his street to the police for having a huge get-together. His job is so difficult and dangerous right now, he was (understandably) pissed off. For people (potentially the same people banging on pans for the NHS every Thursday…) to just say “fuck you” to everyone like that…? It’s sickening.
I feel like I should write something positive… I spoke to a counsellor for the first time this week. Online – I wasn’t brave enough to phone. I have okay days and thoroughly terrible ones, but I’ve been worrying about going off the deep-end recently, and it was useful to talk things through with someone neutral. He made me feel like my concerns were legitimate which was surprisingly useful, being that I’ve mostly been trying to cope by dismissing them as irrational. I’m doing okay at the moment, less existential worries, and all that comes with it. I hope it lasts.
I’m not sure if that counts as positive…? It’s the best I’ve got right now.