Cancelled

We’ve been cancelled.

No, not by some perceived transgression against wokeness as is usually claimed by self-aggrandising bigots who are get upset when their targets talk back.

Cancelled, as in cancelled tickets.

First there were the tickets to Raiders of the Lost in Concert, supposedly cancelled by the promoter days due to covid restrictions days before they lifted. I was glad, because the date clashed with something else we had planned.

Now that has been cancelled too.

Our Jetstar flights to Japan over the Easter school holidays in April.

In fairness to Jetstar, this is hardly a surprise as Japan does not appear to be opening its borders anytime soon. I’m not even sure that they will be open by their new restart date of May.

Unfortunately, this means that we now do not have any holiday bookings over the two week Easter break. This would make B’s workplace happy, as they did not want her to take leave, despite us booking it months ago. But it doesn’t bring any joy to us.

I feel like I’ve been stuck in this house forever and simply going into the office is not going to fix it, whatever it might do for the pockets of the CBD landlords (nothing in my case). It’ll have been a year since we flew up to Darwin (felt like another country) and almost three since we were last out of Australia (Singapore). In between, a few nice driving trips, though who knows how easy they will be after all this rain and flooding.

Aside from a few low cost carriers, international airfares are outrageously high for a family of three over Easter and destinations still limited. Covid is more rampant in Singapore than in Sydney. The war in the Ukraine could spill into Europe. Put the rest of the family in a tropical resort and they go crazy from boredom.

I don’t know the answer. These are first world problems compared to pandemics, floods and war. The mice have probably all drowned now, but the four horsemen of the apocalypse are a’roamin out there. They always are, but just a bit more visible now to Western eyes.

Doesn’t mean that I can’t feel like shit. Languishing is the term they use. An inability to find joy in the everyday. A sense of going nowhere.

I look out the window. There’s a hint of blue behind the cloud and drizzle and there, above the neighbour’s house, a faint rainbow. A sign? I don’t believe in those.

A reminder that things change. Sometimes it just happens, other times it needs a push.

Keep looking.

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