For several days, since North Korea’s nuclear capability has been back in the News and the Commander-in-Chief has been making pronouncements that herald the end of the world, I have been distracted by wondering whether that boy genius, with his pudgy hand hovering over the button, is setting his sights on Washington or New York.
The thing is, my only son, my only grandson and my daughter-in-law live in New York, not in Washington, and the question for me is which will excite Kim Jong-un more, the destruction of the Pentagon and seat of government or Trump Tower and the lights of New York.
Our part of New York
My guess is the latter. Especially if he is a film-lover like his dad.
So, it was like the sun coming out when my American husband – not that you needed to be American to know this – pointed out that it won’t be Washington or New York, it will be California.
So, as my friend Pat commented drily: That’s all right, then.
Well, no. And yet how hard it is not to put one’s own concerns before other people’s. Not long ago when, in a brief cold spell, our central heating gave out, it didn’t help to think of the plight of the refugees. The only ‘hardships’ it is easy to bear are those that are self-imposed. I wouldn’t choose to eat out of buckets (see below), but it was fun being in this remote part of India for a few days just as, many, many years ago, was being stranded in Agios Nicolaos – now a mecca for tourists, but then virtually unknown – when the only boat scheduled to stop there didn’t and sailed past in the distance.
It is also easy enough to put up with things that one knows will come to an end, like night cramps and toothache, but the end of the world . . . ? Laughter seems the only sane response and, as for other people, there will be no other people. Whether we like it or not, we are all in it together.