“The Dear knows”, as my late mother would say…. that it’s a dunderheaded uselessness to even give it any time or thought at all.The “Dear” being some transcendent overseer of all human foibles on earth….a sort of cosmic Shakespeare, tasked to write and manipulate the stories and pull the strings of soft-headed commonfolk. That’s all very well but then that natural curiousity always sucks all of us in to gawp and gape at the carnival nonsense that sane men should surely avoid.
But……then there’s always …..another holy shrine in the making….such as the legend of….to be known in balladry as….
“1000 days at Twaddell Roundabout”…..
“You can’t go back home to your family, back home to your childhood … back home to a young man’s dreams of glory and of fame … back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory.” , Thomas Wolfe
No I don’t think Mr Wolfe had Twaddell Roundabout in mind and neither do i believe that many of the unhappy campers at said road junction, with its intimation of going around in circles forever, have ever browsed through the pages of his posthumous literary oeuvre, but you know how one thought leads to another…..
For anyone living beyond the boundaries of Norneverland; those outside the clear ectoplasmic dome which contains and corrals the denizens of this lost- land like some Jurassic Park themed lunatic asylum . You will surely be unaware that a mentally fractured breakaway colony have decided to camp -out at a public roadway roundabout because they seem to imagine that they won’t be able to get home again unless they can walk down a specific ensorcelled road. They seem magically entranced into a hypnotic fugue and no amount of fine words or critical debate can assuage or reassure them that they can, indeed , really go back home .As if lost in some enchanter’s gothic dream they appear to be doomed to live out the remainder of their lives on this one barren spot.
They are being cared for , of course and are protected as reckless and innocent infants might be, by a changing guard of policemen and carers. Somehow food is also provided and hopefully some source of heat and hygiene facilities .They have not as yet become a health hazard and are managing as well as an Inuit family might on the snowy wastes of the Canadian Arctic. It seems that someone has already provided them with a caravan of sorts to ease the coldness and isolation of their burden throughout the seasons.They have not as yet resorted to cannibalistic activities as far as anyone can record..
Some benevolent benefactor is providing this private police security at a huge cost to himself ,apparently and the occupants appear to have sourced and foraged some locally growing foodstuffs. It is miraculous really when you consider that people are dying homeless in the nearby Belfast streets.Luckily this wholly vegetarian diet of nettles, dock leaves, dandylions and somesuch seems amply able to sustain body and soul.
No one knows what employment , hobbies, sports, social relationships, vocations or passions have been abandoned due to this necromancy within the small area , but it is common knowledge that should they ever survive this ominous spell that they will at the very best require a course of rehabilitation to allow them to re-enter society and at the very least , a session of hypnosis to allow them to forget their ordeal .It should be stressed that not everyone has been stricken by this calamitous witchery and it is by no means endemic throughout Norneverland society . In most cases it seems to be contained adequately enough but this seems to be a particularly virulent strain which has taken hold of these possibly more feeble-minded unfortunates. That may be seen to be the case in the fullness of time.Had it effected everyone in society the social structures would surely have broken down after one thousand days of inaction.Elsewhere people go about their day to day business oblivious and untainted.
On the other hand , should the spell prove unassailable and unable to be severed , it might be worth considering the opening of an entrance in the dome to allow visitors from foreign climes easier access to study the phenomenom, if only to recoup some of the expense from tourism. Just so long as their is no notion of contagion ,I would imagine it would be safe enough to do that. After all this tribe looks set to live their lives out on this malignly enchanted spot and the benefactor providing their security may not always be there to pay the bills.