I woke up hopeful this morning as our power-sharing executive had announced some weeks ago that today they would release a ‘Covid Recovery Plan,’ outlining a gradual easing of restrictions and return to normalised society. Hopeful but not confident, as our political leaders have repeatedly let the country down with previous promises and assurances. And, would you believe it, my cynicism was well-founded.
Late morning my Twitter feed started to hum with tweets from local journalists that the plan was yet to be signed off. The Deputy First Minister added, rather vaguely, that the plan would be revealed ‘later this week.’ A few days might not seem a big deal to some of you but when you’re stuck in the house for months on end you tend to latch onto these dates. They are tiny glimmers of hope and light in this increasingly bizarre nightmare.
Hopes are raised and then dashed again. So near and yet so far. It’s disappointing but it isn’t the first, and won’t be the last, time we’ve been let down by those supposedly elected for their decision-making and problem-solving skills. So hear I sit, in my hoodie and pyjama bottoms, venting online about the inadequacies of the powers that be. I don’t know what it’s like in your part of the world but I’m consoling myself with cake.
It’s lunchtime here, but I don’t care. Cake seems to be a most appropriate remedy at the present moment. I might get dressed later, but I might not. I might just continue eating cake and worry about the crumbs later. I wonder if the politicians get cake when they have their high-powered meetings. Maybe they should, it might inspire some clarity and resolve in them. When the world is collapsing all around you, Marie Antoinette had the right idea. Let them eat cake.