The World Turned Upside Down

I’ve just finished reading James Shapiro’s 1606: The Year of Lear. I was struck by the organisation with which London society coped with thirty years, on and off, of waves of plague. When infections rose above a certain number in any parish, mass gatherings were banned, infected households were quarantined, theatres were closed. Year after year they did this. Just one wave of a plague has laid us low. The whole performance industry is struggling, theatres are sacking all but their core staff, panto season will not be happening as we have known it.

There is loads of innovation of course; new companies and initiatives popping up in gardens, sports grounds, parks. Much cause for hope. But it feels like the winter is drawing closer now, and much outdoor work will stop for the colder months. Too much darkness for some to cope with. In a year or two the landscape will have been remade, because we will still need stories, music, guidance, inspiration. But there is a dark forest to go through before that.

It feels right to focus on people above art for the time being. To look after those around us and near us, dear to us. The stories will regrow when they are ready. When we need them.