Following a series of random edicts, we were instructed to kneel during daylight hours. As always in such cases, there was grumbling, mumbling, and a flurry of online petitions, but of course we did as we always did, and even the most outspoken got down on their knees. At first, we all made our own padded protectors out of things we found around the house – I cut out shapes from a leather mandolin case which had once belonged to my mother’s uncle who was lost in the War, and tied them on with sturdy thongs – but soon they were all over Etsy and Redbubble, and traders sprung up on every market. Famous Neils were popular designs: Young for the old rockers, Armstrong for the space nerds, and Neal Cassady for those who were mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time. I had all of them, along with a pair of Neil Kinnocks as a reminder of the political distinctions of my youth, and although hardly anyone ever recognised him, it led to the occasional interesting conversation as I shuffled about my day-to-day. As always, the protests soon died down, and most came to accept that the slower pace the posture imposed had its upsides in a previously frantic world. Thinking back now, it glows like a Golden Age, stumping the pavements with that awkward gait, picking up earworms from the Diamonds, tutting at the Gaimans who missed the memo, and flashing smiling peace signs at the grimacing bemusement of Neil the Hippie from The Young Ones. It seems like an innocent lifetime ago, before they introduced the blindfolds.
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Oz Hardwick
Picture Nick Victor
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