This Petty Pace

For most of us the thing which keeps us going at whatever we do is the day-to-day stimulation of real life. Not a fake imitation of living, as this lock-down is. I understand that some kind of regulation which hopes to limit the damage and the death is essential.  However, we must not forget that living in isolation causes loneliness and a feeling of exclusion with panic and fear – will things ever change?  Also illness of another kind: mental and emotional breakdown.

I am coping well as I’ve family around me and contact with plenty of friends via the internet. One of my writing projects is to publish an anthology of short stories written over a period of years.

The title, Tales of Dusty Death, is taken from Shakespeare. For the writers reading this I must add that I’ve long found the Bard to be a great source of titles. One of my draft novels, languishing in a cupboard, unpublished and more or less forgotten is Lovers and Madmen from Midsummer- Night’s Dream Act V Scene 1.

‘Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.’

A poetic insight into delusion.

The choice of the title of my collection stems from the theme of the stories. Here’s the source:

‘Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death.

Macbeth Act V scene 5

Gloomy but apt. We are all creeping at a petty pace.






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