Happy Days

“Oh this is a happy day, this will have been another happy day.”

Apparently begged by his wife to write a happy play Beckett write this. In a strange, burnt out, blank world - is it apocalyptic? Winnie and Willie live, or rather exist, between the ringing of a bell.

We don't know why they are here, where here is, what has happened before or between the acts. We are suspended in time just like them.

It reminds me of elderly couples, perhaps with a touch of dementia, as the love and lucidity shines through now and again.

I finish this and ask myself why we need things to mean something? Winnie and Willie just are - in their impossible life, they simply exist.

There's also an element of torture, and Beckett's characters/actors are often tortured on the stage. I can't help but wonder, who by?