Tripping

I seem to remember one book where the whole cosmos could be explained with a single word. It's not quite the same for me, but 'tripping' seems to have a special resonance at the moment. The world appears increasingly surreal and unfamiliar, with many old norms turned on their heads, laughing gayly at the old farts who stand by in powerless consternation. At the same time, I stand watchful in a seaside resort, where the ebb and flow of day trippers appears to echo the tides themselves, each wave an erosion of the days that are left, and the world I once knew.

Last, but not least, my apparent peer group are themselves physical trippers, unsteady on their feet, bristling with sticks and limps, seemingly only one false step away from broken hips, and the spiralling deterioration that so often follows. Yes, where once I rode the four winds of psychedelic experience, I now tentatively skirt potholed pavements and raised kerbs with all the courage of a mouse in purgatory. 

Trip the light fantastic.

Remember that one?

Maybe not.