“When you’re stuck in a tunnel and you can’t find your way out, thank god there’s a Jackie Weaver about. Jackie is our saviour, she’ll know what to do, in the nick of time she’ll rescue you” (Don Black)
Cold Comfort
Storm Darcy brought officially the coldest spell since the Beast from the East in 2018, with a bitterly icy easterly wind and yet more snow. Worse in the south for once, trains stopped and jab centres shut. Warming up with porridge and a fluffy bath, tedious Monday chores ensued, the trip to the bins particularly nithering. Decorating Neighbour chatted with a mate in the street. Referring to new arrivals’ makeshift ‘private parking’ sign, he asked: “Is this a private street?” “Of course not. I would have cordoned off my bit 20 years ago if it was.” We went on to discuss similar misguided beliefs on the street below and Covid larks. “I’m getting the jab this week,” he informed me. “Is it because of your age?” “Yes, I’m old. and special!” That made 4 immunised people I knew first-hand as opposed to none with coronavirus. Weary in the afternoon, I considered doing yoga but got stuck on Photoshop instead then tried to warm up in bed – futile even wearing 3 pairs of socks. Phil still struggled with back pain but rallied after a rest and more happy pills. “You’re turning into a right junkie!” I laughed.
The Cock urged the over 70’s not yet invited to contact the NHS. French health minister Olivier Veran got the AZ jab, derided by Macron. Boris insisted it would lower the death rate despite fears over resistance of the SA strain, while Van Dam said it wasn’t a major concern as the Kent variant was the most virulent. Surge testing widened to other areas and Mike Tildesley (of Warwick Uni and SPI-M*) cautioned it could be even more widespread and thus delay lockdown easing.
Rocky sleep for two successive nights prompted me to take a sleeping pill. Eyes shutting while reading, I lay in the comfy chilled-out place between wakefulness and sleep before gently sinking into unconsciousness. Much less fatigued Tuesday, I performed a full morning exercise routine for the first time in 2 weeks.
Brightness was suddenly obliterated by snow, flying in our faces as we walked east on the towpath. Plans to climb a hill abandoned, we circumnavigated the park and trod gleefully on the white stuff, some squeaky, some crunchy. Observing the prints of others who’d preceded us, it turned out Phil was an expert at sole tread identification – who knew? Attempting to take photos, flakes fell like delicate chains, settling softly on shrubs. We returned to the canal, where fine particles lay dust-like on frozen patches. Chilled to the bone, we veered onto tarmac. Gulls sat expectantly in a neat row atop a roof gable behind the school. Boys dangerously played football on uneven cobbles. A café still advertised mulled wine but looked closed, even for take-a-away. Unable to rest in the afternoon, I had a really good night, even better than the one before. Was it a knock-on effect of the pill or the refreshing icy walk?
The Cock announced plans for traveller quarantine. From Mon 15th Feb, all arrivals must isolate for 10 days and have 2 tests at their own expense. Those from ‘red list’ countries would be bussed to designated hotels (the list of 16 undisclosed due to security, apparently) at a cost of £1,750 including transfer and testing. Paul Brand of ITV news tweeted ‘a large whack’ of the money went to G4S (i.e., more tory chums). A plethora of fines could be issued for non-compliance and a staggering 10 years in prison levied for concealing your country of origin! Scotland required all travellers to go to Q hotels. The WHO Wuhan verdict inconclusive, they said the virus hadn’t escaped from a lab and that it may have come from imported frozen fish rather than local fresh produce, raising queries about endorsing the official Chinese version. A week on, they called for more evidence dating back to the original outbreak. Brexiteer JD Sports boss Peter Cowgill carped that Brexit red tape was worse than expected and planned to open a distribution centre in Europe, taking jobs away from the UK – twat! Useless George said there was ‘no legal barrier’ to the EU blockade of shellfish exports and they’d changed the rules within the last week.
Wednesday, we were occupied with domestic-based work. On PMQ, Keir complained of no decisions on business rates, furlough or eviction ban extensions to which Boris trolled out the same old lines. Ian Blackford called him ‘pathetic’. Answering a question from Plaid Cymru, The Bumbler referred to battery manufacture in Bridgend, at possibly the biggest factory in the world. Was that meant to compensate for the loss of car manufacture? It reminded me of Soviet-era Radio Tirana which used to trumpet weekly Albanian tractor production figures.
Miffed at being stuck indoors during sunny daylight, Phil said I should have suggested a walk. But already approaching dusk, it became colder and more persistent snow fell.
The WHO advised the AZ vaccine was used for all adults, in all countries, on all variants, and greater efficacy was elicited when the booster was administered at 8-12 weeks. In the UK, take-up remained lower in the BAME community and a third of care home staff hadn’t been inoculated for a variety of reasons, many spurious. Van Dam raged at mis-information and “nasty pernicious scare stories on social media.” Quite – stop looking at it, you dickwads! An Imperial College React study added chills, headaches, muscle aches and loss of appetite to Covid symptoms. In contrast to Cock‘s claim last month that it would be a ‘Great British Summer,’ Shatts said: “people shouldn’t be booking holidays now…domestically or internationally.” And the holiday ban would remain until everyone was vaccinated. Did he mean the whole world? Had they told BoE chief Andrew Bailey? Braced to write off summer, Brian Strutton of BALPA whinged: “airlines are drowning but rather than throwing us a life raft, the transport secretary has just thrown a bucket of cold water at us.”
Amongst mounting pressure, housing minister Robber Jenrick announced ‘a clear plan’ to remove dangerous cladding from tower blocks, with an extra £3.5bn and a levy for new-builds. An MPs’ report in 2020 concluding £15bn was needed, shadow minister Thangam Debbonnaire said: “(the government) still don’t know how many buildings are unsafe…inaction and delay has caused the building safety crisis to spiral.” Grenfell United called it ‘too little too late’. Rebecca from the excellently-named Manchester Cladiators told BBC Breakfast it was cold comfort for people living in unsellable flats, failed to take into account other underlying safety issues and that the 17.5 storey limit determining whether you got a grant or a loan, was arbitrary.
Jackie Weaver had become the most famous coffee-cupper in the land, hosting a Handforth (Cheshire) Parish Council planning meeting on zoom. In the face of male aggression, she kept her cool to remove the chair who yelled: “you have no authority here, Jackie Weaver!” The VC stormed off shouting: “read the standing orders. Read them and understand them!” Glad for the power of the mute button, she became an unlikely hero. ALW penned an ode with Don Black, released on insta. Would a musical be next?
Polar Trek
The storm passed, but temperatures stayed below zero. Jeremy C**t hilariously slipped when jogging and broke his arm. Overnight temperatures plummeted to the lowest for decades. In the Cairngorms, it hit -23 in Braemar and a man from Boat in Garten performed the Siberian trick of freezing boiling water mid-air.
Very bright and cold again Thursday, we didn’t miss another opportunity for a wintry walk. Leaving the house just before lunch, Phil bought pasties from the hipster bakers. “It’s like going to the dystopian future in there, with all the PPE and distancing measures!” We walked west on the main road, turning right to a nearby clough. Extremely icy on the rocky track, the going was glacially slow. At the old mill site, snowy water and icicles shone. We stood to eat the pasties then clambered over a frozen tributary and up slippery steps onto a Path. We spotted an old quarry with massive icicles resembling stalactite. Warily avoiding squelchy patches and falling spikes, we ascended to explore. Photos later revealed a miniature snow horse in the rockface. Back on the path, we weren’t quite where expected. At a loss as to how we went wrong, we ended up climbing a ridiculously long stairway, emerged at a junction, turned right again and kept to the higher route until the path ran out. A pair of men changed a van wheel in middle of the narrow lane, requiring us to squeeze past. Reaching the village, we paused to peruse a veg stall outside the inn. As the landlord emerged, we nodded politely and moved on, reasoning he would probably charge us non-local rates! On the last stretch, I felt achy, exhausted and grumpy. It was incredulous how long and hard the walk was even though we hadn’t got far – like a polar trek! (for a fuller description of the walk, see Cool Placesi)
Back home, we slumped on the sofa. Shopping not done, I thought of an alternative dinner option from meagre supplies. Phil said he had to go to the co-op anyway. Expecting him to be back in time to help, I started cooking and was almost finished when he returned, by which time I was achy and moody again.
Jeremy Farra of sage referred to the Rocky Road Map as ‘arbitrary’ but with calls to open up the economy, John Edmunds said we would be ‘more or less free’ by the end of the year, albeit still with masks and social distancing. Wales was the first home nation to declare all top 4 priority groups vaccinated. The Q hotel website crashed minutes after going live. Sharon Peacock, Cog-UK said the Kent variant, now in 50 countries, was becoming dominant. By persistence, door-knocking and offering help, York’s local system reached two thirds of positive cases uncontactable by Dildo’s TIT. Von Der Leyen admitted to MEPs that they were late authorising vaccines and over-optimistic on mass production. Prezzo were closing 22 ‘non-viable’ restaurants’ and losing 216 posts. Heineken were shedding 8,000 jobs worldwide. The Post Office announced record profits (all those cardboard packages obviously) while Uber prepared to offer parcel delivery at the same price as a cab ride. With staff exhausted, Jon Ashworth questioned the timing of The Cock’s planned overhaul of the NHS. A We Own It petition claimed it would lead to more privatisation.
In an argument on QT concerning the daft rules on exporting fish, the SNP woman correctly told Michael Forsythe it was the deal. The idiot tory persisted in banging on about balancing public health and the economy during the pandemic, to which she echoed my views that there wouldn’t be an economy without people to work and spend. You had to prioritise one or the other, for the millionth time!
In contrast to the previous two, I had a fractious night. Unable to relax, I used the meditation tape to drop in and out of sleep several times until I eventually got a few hours.
Glacial Pace
Friday, I wearily ran a bath and discovered spilt goo making a mess. Downstairs, I discovered an even bigger mess due to an overturned ashtray, not seeing how bad it was in the dark of the previous night. Trying to ignore it, I settled down with coffee and tried to work on the laptop. Glacially slow, I eventually got a MS update message – why was it always on a Friday? With no chance of achieving anything substantial, I did a few small tasks and posted a picture for my nephew’s 18th birthday. All the nieces and nephews now officially adults, I felt old! Leaving the machine to update, I went to the co-op for weekend supplies including the Valentines meal deal, which proved excellent value as we got 2 dinners and a lunch out of it. I waited patiently at the tills for space on the conveyor. Before I knew it, the pace quickened and the cashier started putting my items through. The couple in front intervened and I rushed to separate my groceries from theirs, commenting I didn’t know how it happened. The shirty cow said it was my fault for placing my stuff too close. A friendlier colleague behind me in the queue asked: “are you being told off?” “Yes, and it’s not right. I’ve done nothing wrong!” The shirty one indicated the social distancing signs. Aghast, I railed: “you’ve only just put those signs up. I’ve been doing social distancing for a year!” Meanwhile, Phil had arrived unnoticed to help carry the shopping. Shaking his head, he told me to calm down, which was the worst thing to say. Nevertheless, as we departed, I made a conciliatory gesture by informing the shirty cow we had things in common and perhaps we should get on rather than argue. I later reflected that I the last 2 trips to the co-op between bouts of illness, were both stressful. Perhaps I should take my custom elsewhere. Or complain to head office, although the last time I did, they responded at a snail’s pace.
I spent the rest of the day tweaking photos and writing haigas, inspired by the polar trekii. Phil cleaned the bathroom. I sent him back up for the hoover to clean his pile of ash still lying on the living room floor.
The R number now 0.7-0.9, eggheads still referred to the infection rate as high. The economy shrunk by 9.9% in 2020. Dodds said “…not only has the UK had the worst death toll in Europe, we’re experiencing the worst economic crisis of any major economy.” She wanted a ‘smarter furlough scheme’ and extensions to the business rate holiday and low VAT for hospitality and tourism. Metro called it the greatest decrease since 1921, the BBC since three centuries ago. Confused, Phil related details of the 1706 recession, during Isaac Newton’s tenure as Master of the Mint. Evidence emerged that Stonehenge was moved from Waun Mawn in the Welsh hills of Preseli. Similarities of size and rock type at the site made the theory plausible.
Hearts in Siberia
Although most of the snow had gone by Saturday, it was literally freezing all day. Phil appeared far too jolly first thing. I lowered the mood by indicating my red-raw hands; not another imaginary plague symptom but due to the cold. I applied copious amounts of cream and healing balm. While I turned the Photoshop collage into a mad Valentine’s card, he went to the convenience store, reporting the side streets lethal but still awash with coffee-cuppers in the arctic conditions! Enjoying our bargainous dinner complete with pink prosecco and posh dessert, we guffawed at mugs featured on telly who paid a fortune for fancy restaurant take-aways, wearing make-up and dresses as they hadn’t for ages. Phil said “I’m going to wear shorts and a snorkel because I haven’t for ages.” “No you won’t. You’ll freeze!”
Finally above zero, Sunday remained cold and grey. I presented the zany card to Phil, querying: “where’s my art, or roses, or anything…?” Answer: nowhere. No surprise seeing as he’d only ever given me Valentines gifts 3 times in almost 4 decades. Not that he had a heart as cold as Siberia, but he maintained it was a ‘made up card day’ (which is isn’t, unlike some others). “Why do I bother?” I asked. Because you enjoy it.” “Hmm.” I stayed in, wrote and watched telly. He went to the shop again in the late inky blackness. Daring to hope he might yet surprise me with a bouquet, he returned empty-handed. “No flowers; only a manky cauliflower.” “Well, it has flower in the name. You could have got it as a joke.” After dinner, we finished off a bottle of fizz which made me very sleepy, but I stayed up to watch Leeds United lose to Arsenal, in a characteristically goal-packed match.
The Cock appeared to fudge the target of reaching 15m priority people when he referred to them being ‘offered’ the vaccine, rather than getting it. As the deadline loomed, it was actually reached, but only 500,000 had the second jab. A 90% uptake among the over 70’s boded well for ‘herd immunity’ if replicated for all adults. The Bumbler hailed ‘a truly national effort’: “they have been delivered by the most extraordinary army of vaccinators who jabbed like there’s no tomorrow.” If there was no tomorrow, we wouldn’t need them you wanker! Due to the backlog of booster jabs and supply issues, roll-out to the over 65’s and clinically vulnerable would be slower. Still confused as to when carers would get it, I clarified we were in priority group 8 so may be immunised sooner than April. David Davies said we had to get to a point where we lived with the virus like it was flu. What made him an expert
A tunnel from Stranraer to Larne, dubbed ‘Boris’ Burrow’, was lauded as the answer to NI import woes, but the pie in the sky project would take 10 years to build. Backbencher Simon Hoare jibed: “The trains could be pulled by an inexhaustible herd of unicorns overseen by stern, officious dodos…A pushme-pullyou could be the senior guard and Puff the Magic Dragon the inspector. Let’s concentrate on making the protocol work and put the hallucinogenics down.” Perhaps the burrowers might need rescuing by Jackie Weaver!
Trump predictably acquitted of spreading hatred and violence in the USA at his impeachment trial, heart vigils in support of Navalny spread the love across Russia, from St. Petersburg to Siberia.
Snotty again at bedtime, I hoped another relapse wasn’t looming…
*Note – SPI-M – Scientific pandemic influenza group on modelling
References:
i. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/
ii. haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com
The Corvus Diaries 