The Connected

I have just heard the first ice cream van come down my street in possibly a decade. 

If this is Brexit, bring it on. It cannot be coincidence.

So I was barely able to disguise my joy when one of the students went out and bought herself a 99. Particular as I saw what she was wearing.

Appropriately enough, Mind That Student was writ large on the back of his van up against some Disney characters, likely uncleared by the corporation.

I'm so glad he made a sale.

Particularly as I had just had a lolly myself. A Rocket, since you ask, that I've recently taken to purchasing and storing in my own freezer.

But the spontaneous simplicity of a 99, is something even I would struggle to replicate in my otherwise highly efficient kitchen set-up.

I was pleased he made a sale. It meant he might be back and who knows.. I may take up the opportunity.

An opportunity for him of course would be to expand into Vodka, nitrous and menthol fags, and would it kill him to throw in a free pack of poppadoms for no reason at all?

No. This is the warm familiar feeling of a retro experience.

We are the connected. Social Media, 24 hour news, hearing and feeling your own phone when it hasn't rung.

But when you are connected you feel every tremor, you shake as everyone else's nerves jangle.

Everything is closer to real. 

Close and too real.

We may choose to expose ourselves to more fear if it's our wont, controlled or otherwise.

Or perhaps do everything we can to avoid it, cross our fingers that the world isn't really a changeable place and enjoy a bubble we have some influence over. 

And who can blame us?

LOLling ourselves into a false sense of security.