The wife and I took part in a neighbourhood jumble sale on Sunday. Everyone in our locality was invited by the residents' association to put a trestle table in his or her front garden and hawk all the shite that each had accumulated over the years. It was tremendous fun.
As well as off-loading some detritus, it gave us all an excuse to sit in the sunshine for a few hours, sip tea and chat to one another. I seem to recall people did this without an excuse when I was a boy. The summer months then were largely spent sitting in the front garden, chin-wagging with the neighbours. It was nice of experience a reprise of this ancient and life-affirming practice.
It does amaze me that we fetishise and fret about alienation and the unhappiness this engenders in society. But instead of address the causes, we simply contrive chemical stopgap solutions. Feeling alone? Have a happy pill. Have you spoken to your neighbours recently? Try it. Take an evening class. Join a swimming club. That should keep you off the Temazepam at least until Advent.
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