Not the Armitage poem, more a Beckett play, staged in rows like The Muppet Shows. Am in some kind of digital purgatorio - or Waiting Room - as it is known. Pondering background choices: Smart - bookshelves Witty - a pub Serious - black-framed Art Lockdown breach - Barnard Castle. Anything but the spare-room drums. 'Can you hear me?' 'Is there anybody there?' Ghostly fragments: careful not to wake the dead. Speaker View or Gallery? How long can I look interested for? Am I even blinking? Too many questions; not enough answers. Too easily Muted by Host. I text notes at the back of class to friend in her box making her laugh. Stop Video. Reconnecting, listening face switched on, pencil poised, notes seen to be taken. Surely this could be put in an email? Breakout Room sounds good. Hurry up please it's time! Well, 40 minutes. A final round of goodbyes, back to our contactless contact. Note to self: MUST work on meeting-exit-face. Is this lockdown Game Over? End Meeting for All Suzanne Fairless-Aitken
