I long for the days when Meghan and Kate’s spat over a wedding dress-code was headline news. My infallible indicator for analysing the state of the world is counting the column inches written about royals as they prance about fulfilling their inherent, historical only role of providing us commoners with panem et circenses. Needless to say, the state of the world these days is ploughing new depths each day.

Global COVID19- shit tornado that continues to cause death and economic misery was clearly not considered enough to topple the humankind’s collective apple cart. Not by a bloody country mile, no. The Universe was not convinced that hoarding toilet paper, homeschooling and having one third of world’s population stew at home for months was “back to basics” -enough. Hell to da naw.
The Universe wants us to think through some serious stuff this year:

It would seem that 2020 is the year for a cathartic reassessment of human rights, fundamental freedoms, such as freedom of press, and democracy in all meanings of the word. A gigantic magnifying glass shines a spotlight on every injustice we sort of thought that maybe artificial intelligence would take care of. Or something.

I’m a Pisces, which together with many other factors makes me an emotional basket case, but even if I weren’t, it’s not easy being a human right now. I’m in two ways about muting all social media and news outlets at least for this weekend, because what if everybody did just that and turned away when it’s medium to large scale fires everywhere? But then also how is my reading about said fires going to help anyone, and also my mental health.

Herewith something that might, or might not, offer medium to mildly positive distraction:

Jacinda Ardern
Just knowing that she exists and enjoys historic success as the Prime Minister of New Zealand already has a calming effect.
Also, Angela Merkel.

Lionel Shriver
A great example that we do not have to agree with everybody in order to acknowledge their greatness. Shriver has a new novel out, but I would recommend to read her The Mandibles from 2016, which is an absolutely hysterical description of a post-apocalyptic America – it’s 2029 and America’s soaring national debt has grown so enormous that it can never be repaid. An upstart international currency threatens the dollar – a bloodless world war that wipes out the savings of millions of American families.

I have vague plans to re-read, but for the moment it sits in a “to read after more urgent to-reads”-pile.
A recent interview about Shriver in the New Yorker is also brilliant.

Nicole Kidman in Big Little Lies
Actually, make that Nicole Kidman’s skin in Big Little Lies. What is up with that? I spent considerable time last week re-watching the series for the n:th time just to pore over (pun) Kidman’s skin.
Yes, I am aware that maybe other things than industrial strength sunscreen went on her face, but her skin appears absolutely immaculate, if not unreal, even in comparison to the other characters in their 40s and 50s, who are also highly polished Hollywood actors. What’s up? Does Kidman have a specific clause in her contract that allows the use of a special filter? Does anyone know?

In any case, good skin doesn’t happen. Stay out of the sun. Wear sunscreen. And a face mask. Which will wreck havoc with you skin, but saves you from applying makeup from the cheeks down.
Another plus: lipsticks have become obsolete until unforeseeable future.

Anything by Obamas.
This includes, but is not limited to, social media posts by them, documentaries about them, YouTube clips of them doing stuff and looking at things either together or separately – really, let your imagination run wild.

I’m feeling very cheerful already. Oh, and today was supposed to be the wedding of Princess Beatrice to her beau Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi. The nuptials have been indefinitely postponed as the Firm has not yet announced a new date for us to get the popcorn ready to observe which royals are getting on each other’s tits over kids having -or not- to wear pantyhose to church. (Weren’t those the good old days?)

One wonders, though, whether Beatrice’s father will nevertheless treat the young couple to a lunch at Pizza Express in Woking on this special day.