Spouting Cave

Youve lived this way for three score and seven days. Dawn brings with it only the certainty of a unit of hours the same as the last and the same as those that will follow. At the work desk and zoom calls youve remained impassive and stoical with kin and friend and foe alike. Youve paid heed to the unprecedented times and unchartered waters and the all things considered and the in the circumstances and the hope youve been keeping well but in truth it feels like youve been trapped in some deep fevered dream since late february. At least you have all this empty time for reading and practicing guitar and personal betterment once youve take care of this pile of dishes and straightened that droopy couch and watched jamie carraghers top ten premier league portuguese strikers born in september beginning with the letter v and shit is it that time already.  By noon the sun is out so you go outside and try to snap from this slothish condition by running vigorously in endless loops round the park

Last year I convinced my Dad to join me in watching my favourite TV series, The Wire. I'd been pestering him for ages to check it out and even bought him the box set for Christmas a few years ago. He was never dismissive, he just never seemed to get around to it (these epic dramas are a commitment, to be fair). Last summer, when I was living with my parents for a few months, he eventually caved. As I expected, he was a big fan. We didn't race through the series, but watched it steadily - maybe an episode or two every couple of nights for a few months. Viewing it for the third time, but having not seen some of the episodes for several years, I was struck by how laugh-out-loud funny some of it is. I remember the show's creator, David Simon, saying that without the humour it would be unwatchable, such is the tragedy, decay and corruption depicted in early 2000s Baltimore. It's also glaring how much the technology has evolved since that period. The subject of the police i