Dots

Have you joined?

I don’t know if it’s my generation, but as a kid I could be happily occupied for lengthy periods with a pencil and an image made from dots. They were sequentially numbered, so all you had to do was draw a line from 1 through 2, then to 3 and onwards – when a picture would miraculously appear on the page. Nothing spectacular, and hardly challenging (assuming you could recognise numbers), but presenting mum with a completed drawing vaguely resembling Donald Duck was a heck of a triumph to a childish mind.

I bring this juvenile pastime to your attention because I think we sometimes need reminding that “Everything Is Connected”.

We are currently beset by a worldwide pandemic that is making (some of) us aware of the value of good personal hygiene. We have been educated about “social distance”, and understand that breaking down boundaries risks a dangerous infection. (Which in my opinion makes a total mockery of keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer.)

Some connections are more important than others, and need sensitive handling. Take the UK Government (please) – leaders of an island nation with a fair old history of waging war between neighbours across the Channel – who recently tore up a political agreement/connection with those same neighbours and immediately began looking for more distant friends to cuddle up to. Fixing long-standing political feuds needs more than a shot in the arm. Personally, I’d go for a kick up the backside.

But now politics is “following the science”. We have vaccines, and suddenly being a scientist carries a lot more street cred. Connect that phrase to the other threat facing the world (Climate Change) and we await salvation from political leaders doing the unthinkable – uniting together behind a common policy to save the planet. Why? Because the scientists and Greta Thunberg tell us that is what we need to do.

I wasn’t into science at school. I never got beyond “the hip bone’s connected to the thigh bone”, and I dreaded visits to the dentist. But I knew when I was being told something important that could affect my health. So, I braved the nasty needles, and I brushed my teeth thoroughly, and I promised my mum I’d be a good boy when I went to the doctor’s surgery – so long as I could take a pencil and look at the comics in the waiting room. And find the pages inside with the puzzles.
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And join the dots…

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