………….

"Mummy, I think the year the clowns tried to kill us was better”, Nelly said tugging on the back of my shirt.  An older lady  looked at me and laughed, “From the mouth of babes”, she said, dropping a large pack of toilet rolls into her trolley.

I couldn’t help but laugh myself, for a five year old Nelly certainly came out with some profound things.

I looked up the isle ahead,  a sea of masked shoppers, filling trolleys with allowable items, I found myself wondering if maybe Nelly was right.

At least we could see the clowns faces. Colourful, expressive, alive. But this, this was just a blur of faceless clones, mostly angry, rushed, scared.

I felt a shove in my back, I turned to see the butt of some type of firearm, “Move along”, ordered a soldier with a clear perspex face mask. I knew better than to argue. Quickly grabbing Nellys hand, I moved forward.  Checking the large clock on the market wall, I  panicked a little, just 40 minutes until evening curfew.