Tom Dunne: Silver lining of Covid was actually round and made of vinyl
When my daughter told me she had never heard anything quite like Bowie’s Starman I slipped her Ziggy Stardust.
Three hundred years ago in a land called ‘just before Christmas,’ the best laid plans were hatched. Gigs were booked, presents wrapped and family visits planned. But then, in a twist worthy of Dickens, the man in red came down the chimney with something far more transmissible than ‘good cheer.’ Our goose, it seemed, was not to be cooked.
Daughter #1 positively beamed when on Christmas Day, as Ireland recorded its then highest ever number of positive tests, hers was one of them. “Look ,”we said, texting her in her room, “you are somebody. You’ve arrived!” Behind the brave face it was a different story. By Stephen’s Day I was the last man standing, the only non-positive. I had three people in isolation, all gigs cancelled, a room full of ungifted presents and my wife’s mum left uncollected in Kilkenny. We were in something of a pickle.
