When Sartre wrote: “Hell is other people,” he was probably talking about a street WhatsApp group.
Truly, nothing brings more exquisite pain, joy and – yes, laughter – than finding out that Sandra at Number 57 has lost her recycling bin again; and getting 86 notifications as people join the quest to find it. Because we all need the constant helpful updates of, “Haven’t seen it Hun, have you tried looking in your garden?” – don’t we?
Then, there are the times – and it happens daily in my outpost of east London – that someone accidentally starts a video call. When my children or colleagues ask me why I’m ignoring my phone buzzing and I have to tell them that I actually don’t want to join James from Number 28’s FaceTime from his pocket.
But nothing can compare to the thrill of sharing with the group that you’ve discovered a dead rat in your driveway (I hilariously joked that someone’s ex-boyfriend had come to visit). Or, the exquisite pathos of a lost cat, last seen chasing pigeons perilously close to the A12…
Shorts
