“Guy Fawkes – The only person to enter parliament with honest intentions” (international Times)
Positive Incompetence
The week brought practically every kind of weather. Monday started with blinding sun, but soon changed. After posting blogs, I put the rubbish out, just as the rain arrived. A friendly neighbour rushed home from the shops. “Typical!” we agreed wryly. I worked on the journal in the afternoon and asked Phil to provide copies of photos he’d taken for possible inclusion. This involved trawling through an old format card as he’d taken them on one of his vintage cameras. By the time they arrived on the shared drive, the day had gone. For dinner I turned the leftover roast pumpkin into delicious soup.
The chatty rat still unknown, The Speaker of the House implored the member responsible to apologise for “discourteous and unacceptable behaviour.” MPs being disrespectful? Nothing new there then, I thought. During the week, investigations involved checking phone messages of The Cock and Glove Puppet. Boris promised the lockdown would expire on 2nd December, with a parliamentary vote on the way forward and made more grandiose claims on defeating the virus by spring, using a combination of instant tests and vaccines. Kier was unimpressed with the continuing incompetence and tardy actions of The Bumbler and Rishi Rich, telling the CBI: “One of the things I’ve learned from this crisis is that it exposes leadership like nothing else. On that count the prime minister and the chancellor have failed. They failed to learn. They failed to listen. And they failed to lead. The result is tragic – but all too predictable.” Scotland tiers 0-4 came into force as Germany entered a partial lockdown.
In a change from his usual routine, on Tuesday Philgot ready to do a job for his AI boss at his Leeds studio – a photoshoot of himself in different poses. “Do I look alright?” “What do you mean?” “I need to look normal.” “In that case, yes.” I sent my submission to Valley Life magazine then set off to acquire a few Christmas gifts from non-essential shops before Lockdown Thursday. The labyrinthine antiques shop had no one-way system making navigation tricky. An ancient bell failed to summon staff to open cabinets. Between us, myself and another customer managed to get their attention. In the sweet shop, I asked the fudge-maker for tips. Although she advised a sugar thermometer would help, I was disillusioned to learn she used a ‘fudge kettle’ which automatically reached the right temperature, and a fudge mix – cheat!
I returned home for lunch followed by a spot of life admin and cleaning. I thought going out in the morning for once would be energising but struggling with fatigue and head fug, I had to lie down. Phil got home just as I picked up the guitar for the first time in months. “Carry on.” I started strumming but discombobulated by the interruption, could barely recall basic chords. Frustrated, I gave up. “Right. You have to practice every day, even if only for 10 minutes.” “Ok boss!”
In European news, another terror incident took place in Vienna. The UK threat was upped to ‘severe.’ Our incompetent government missed the deadline to reply to the EU legal notice. A spokesperson for Number 10 said they were committed “to working through the joint committee process to find a satisfactory outcome.” Whatever the hell that meant! Barnier met Lord Frost in Brussels with an update for MEPs due later in the week, prompting speculation on possible movement on the fishing issue.
Frostbite
A thick frost, the first of the season, coated the rooftops on a dazzling Wednesday. We spent the morning tapping away on our key boards and watched PMQs then decided to go out for lunch, seeing as it was the last chance for at least a month. We’d just got to the crossroads when Phil realised he had no mask.
While he ran back for one, I killed time taking photos of the hilarious grilled cheese hut in the old grocer’s yard. The extensive menu included, yes you guessed it, melted cheese! I then perused alternative eateries, all either shut or take-away only. So much for trying something different! Meeting back at the crossroads, we hovered in the tea room garden but they had no hot food left. We predictably ended up at the Med Café. Sitting outside, I harassed the waitress about the cleanliness of the table, the lack of salt, pepper and napkins, then felt sorry as we overheard her relating a tale of woe to another diner. With the start of Lockdown #2, staff were back on short hours and furlough. Phil left a generous tip in meagre compensation.
I spotted a photographer friend waiting to go into a charity shop down the street. Leaving Phil to finish his cappuccino, I approached, just as she struck up a conversation with a passer-by. By the time he’d moved on, Phil had joined us. We had time for a brief catch-up before a shop worker came to tell her it was safe to enter. “And one other.” He said, giving me and Phil a warning look. “No thanks. We were only in here the other day.” After all, there was a limit to how many times you could look at the same piles of bric-a-brac. Phil wanted to browse the book shop (not only closed for the lockdown but due to retirement, permanently as of the end of the year). While he was otherwise occupied, I aimed to secretly acquire the old camera he’d spotted on Sunday. Alas, it had gone.
Reuniting in the square, he did a bad job of hiding purchases behind his leg. I handed him a carrier bag and turned my back so he could at least pretend I hadn’t seen them. We guffawed at a pathetic Christmas tree seemingly being put up by council workers. Normally impressive for a small town, this effort would have fit in our smallest room. “It’ll get nicked that.” He predicted. To be fair, councils were brassic in spite of what the government said about providing extra funding, I discovered a week later that it wasn’t actually the official tree, leaving me puzzled as to what we had seen. I thought we might stay out to look at more trees but as the sun dipped behind the hills, it became cold. Back home, a planter by the door had broken. Phil suggested leaving it. With bits of geranium, soil and rocks strewn on the pavement, that was impractical. I fetched the shovel, still behind the door from burying the rat, and got very cold hands cleaning it up. “I’ve got frostbite!” I declared, as the sensation left my fingertips. “Oh no, you’ll have to do a Ranulph Fiennes and chop them off!” After a siesta, I had another bash at guitar, eventually recalled most of the basic chords and ran through several songs in a 20-minute session (twice the minimum set so pretty good). Pleased to see Count Arthur Strong had surfaced on Prime, I found a new appreciation of the madcap genius following the live gig in Blackpool early in March – heady days!
Following the close of polls, interminable pointless predictions and analysis of the US election dominated the TV from breakfast and throughout the day (I say pointless seeing as we didn’t have a say until we became the 51st state). The Trump claimed it was a big fraud and he’d go to court if he lost. Predictably, the UK government won the lockdown vote but a last-minute change meant pubs could do take-outs, as long as it was via’ click n collect’ or pre-ordering by phone or letter. “I’ll just send my manservant round!” Quipped Phil. The NHS went on standby to potentially start vaccinations in December, with care staff and the over 80’s first in the queue. In the latest High Street casualties, Lloyds Bank and John Lewis announced job losses.
Guy Fawkes Was Right
Lockdown Thursday dawned bright but soon turned to cold rain. Embarking on chores, I found inexplicable clumps of mess around the house. I then worked on the journal until head fug and tired eyes forced me to stop. In a change of activity, I ironed summer shirts. It felt good getting rid of the pile. I switched the radio on for the first time in years and immediately remembered why that was. An awful cacophony of random music and DJ meanderings! On a quiet Bonfire Night, I only heard a couple of fireworks and had a strangely good night, actually sleeping 7 hours straight for the first time in 8 years.
In the return of moronic daily briefings, Rishi Rich extended furlough to March, leading to speculation lockdown would also last until then. Boris again denied it, waffling about putting the virus ‘back in its box’, and repeated that the national lookdown would definitely end on 2nd December – like Covid could be magicked away! In a dig at Witless, Head Bod of the NHS displayed 1 easy to understand graph, clearly showing the sages had over-estimated the number of cases requiring hospitalisation (as Phil had previously pointed out, we’d all be dead if they were right). Mind you, the number of cases was rising and 30,000 medical staff were ill or self-isolating. Echoing Keir’s comments to the CBI, Shadow Chancellor Annalise Dodds said it was too late to save jobs and Rishi was always ‘a step behind’. The Bank of England bought government bonds thus adding £150bn to QE. Sainsburys axed specialist counters and Argos stores. Anti-lockdowners demonstrated in London that evening and in Stroud at the weekend, starring the tin-foiler Piers Corbyn (brother of Jeremy).
The day marked the anniversary of the repeal of the law compelling people to celebrate the failure of the gunpowder plot, led by Guy Fawkes (1859). Would it be commemorated as the anniversary of Lockdown #2 in future?
Starting oddly sunny and foggy at the same time, the fog won on Friday and shrouded the valley for the next few days. We discussed family affairs following a message from Elder Sis. Big Sis was in Germany and asked about driving through England without quarantining. We concluded she could. Undertaking the routine co-op trip, I observed it was definitely quieter outside with non-essential shops shut and much less traffic. This didn’t stop evening shenanigans on the street below. A fire blazed in a brassier almost touching the house. Kids ran about screeching and brandishing sparklers. I observed: “They are not from the same household and there are definitely more than 6 of them.” “Don’t be a grinch.” Phil admonished.
City-wide mass testing started in Liverpool. The pilot involved testing citizens with no Covid symptoms, using a combination of swab tests and lateral flow tests, which gave results within an hour. Although locally led, the army were drafted in to help and positive results passed onto Dido’s TIT. In Manchester, students awoke to find themselves hemmed in by metal barriers. Revolting students proclaiming the area ‘HMP Fallowfield’ hit the headlines, leading to the offending articles being removed.
During the weekend, Phil did the errands and reported a new pizza take-away had sprung up in the town centre, still busy even without pubs. He also attempted fog photography. I considered accompanying him but reflected that I would have needed tutoring and probably become fractious standing about in the cold drizzle when I could be warm indoors, which is where I stayed. I did some writing and painting with mediocre results, and stayed up too late watching films.
The latest on the US vote count suggested The Trump was officially a loser, which he would hate. In yet another U-turn on school dinners, Boris rang Marcus Rashford to tell him they would be provided over the Christmas break. Rabid Raab appeared on Marr, defending the decision to impose travel restrictions on Denmark after the discovery of Infected minks, as more were reported in Spain and India. Was there global mink-trafficking? Phil googled the issue and discovered the mutation had arisen in different countries coincidentally. It still raised the question of how the virus had jumped from humans to the animals…
With the lack of sleep, I retired early, but struggled to get to sleep and felt very cold during the night.
References:
i. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com
ii. Valley Life magazine: http://valleylifemagazine.co.uk/
The Corvus Diaries 