Twas the Twelfth Day of the Lock Down. Management theorists opined that while a team of seven was ideal for taking action, at team of twelve was ideal for analysing an issue from all angles. Individuals, Cone Man cone-sidered, could at least analyse a situation by consulting the hindsight of twelve days of experience. And if they had learned nothing in twelve days, well, as the old saying went: "There's no fool like and old fool'.
Twelve days older, Cone Man wondered if he was any the wiser. Suffering sedentary solitude, he had instituted the discipline of halving his food portions for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Hopefully he would avoid becoming a fat old fool. He had also implemented a daily exercise regime involving walking or cycling so hopefully he would become a fit old fool.
Maintaining these disciplines after the end of the Lock Down would make him a trimmer fitter fool in due course, but the problem remained. Cone Man found that everyone had become and armchair expert on Coronavirus, with views ranging from cynical disbelief to near religious faith in medical experts, news reporters, and the ability of governments to deliver while presiding over shuttered economies that were multiplying unemployment claims while reducing the tax take.
Who could be believed? Who knew all the facts? Who knew what they were talking about? If they knew what they were talking about, how could you know they would not be proven wrong by some perverse event designed to make the most learned sages look silly?
Cone Man tiredly reflected that it was not really worth his while to worry about it. "After all" he admitted "whatever you suspect, you only have to wait a week or two for the evidence to emerge." That was all very well, but in accepting that, he also realised that he was no wiser for being twelve days older ...
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