“You might very well think that – I couldn’t possibly comment ” (Francis Urquart, House of Cards)
Game-Changer
Shouty men wheeling stuff about in the fog on the street made for a rude awakening Monday morning. Waiting until the noise abated, I drifted back to sleep then became alarmed at the lateness of the hour. Phil’s help with the tedious chores was most welcome. I spent the rest of the morning blog-posting, causing minor irritation. The stupid highlights re-appeared in the Word file so whole chunks of the journal had to be re-written and the Facebook link again proved problematic. Continuing with writing after lunch, my eyes went funny so I switched to art. The new painting I started, based on a photo of felled maple leaves last autumn, looked more promising than Sunday’s effort. Placing an Ocado order, daytime slots were still as rare as hen’s teeth. I settled for an early Wednesday evening delivery.
The Welsh firebreak ended. Heddlu patrolled the English border to stem shopping trips. This didn’t prevent massive queues outside Primark in Cardiff and mayhem in Ikea. The number of cases worldwide hit 50 million. Pfizer/Biontec won the race for a vaccine, 90% effective in trials but not yet peer-reviewed. Subject to emergency authorisation, the UK government planned to start immunising in December, having pre-ordered 40m doses, enough for 20m people (with 300m on order in total when others came online). We knew care workers and the vulnerable would be first in line but after that, who was going to get what and when? Although offered more money, GPs expressed concern about the practicalities of vaccinating thousands of people a day and keeping the Pfizer vaccine at the required -70 degrees. Dummy Prof Van Dam took part in the daily briefing and expressed ‘cautious optimism’. “These vaccines will prevent illness, but that’s all we know. We don’t know if they will prevent asymptomatic infection and have an effect on community transmission.” Imploring us to still follow the rules, The Bumbler trolled out one of his moronic analogies involving distant bugles: “I have often talked of the bugle of scientific breakthrough coming over the brow of the hill. Tonight that toot is louder, but it is still some way off.”
Loser Trump blamed his defeat on Pfizer, for not announcing the vaccine’s success before the election. A true hallmark of a narcissist, thinking the world revolved around them!
Meanwhile, venture capitalist, wife of tory minister Jesse Norman and Head of the Vaccine Taskforce, Kate Bingham, spent a fortune on PR consultants Admiral Associates. The Director, Angus Collingwood-Cameron, was also coincidentally (sic) a director of The Scumbag’s in-laws’ country estate. This came after she revealed sensitive info to America the other week, with another money-spinner of a virtual conference for capitalists planned next year. It was subsequently reported she was stepping down at the end of year.
Panorama covered Liverpool during the tier 3 restrictions including gyms flouting the rules before being allowed to re-open and demos involving the predictable assortment of tin-foilers and naysayers. I learnt a new word: ‘coronacoaster’.
Getting out of bed continued to be difficult throughout the week but I forced myself to do so. On Tuesday, I checked the Valley Life proof, worked on the journal and did a big top-up shop. I got stressed in the co-op as my glasses steamed up so much I could hardly see. The kiosk cashier was as cheery as ever – not! A crowded draining board made washing tricky causing further stress. Hearing me swear, Phil asked what was wrong. “The same old annoying routine. What do you think!” I flopped on the sofa, then on the bed. Another faff ensued at coffee time, trying to tip biscuits into a tin. A piece of uncleansed plastic tumbled out with the yummy treats– grr!
The Cock boasted that the UK would be among one of the first countries to get vaccines, with the NHS and army involved in delivery. COVAX (The Global Vaccine Alliance) might have something to say about that. People in poor countries unable to social distance and access clean water, suffered more, not to mention those in refugee camps; surely they should be prioritised? Prof. Bell of Oxford University told a joint session of the Commons Health & Social Care and Science & technology Committees there was a high probability of 3 vaccines being available by spring and of immunising the vulnerable by Easter – if distribution wasn’t ‘screwed up.’ Who could he mean? Surely not our wonderfully competent government! John Penrose MP self-isolated after being contacted by his wife Dildo’s TIT. Facing the same committee, she insisted she was doing a great job. While admitting that demand outstripped capacity in September, she couldn’t answer questions on when the next peak was expected. A record 314k redundancies between July and September helped raise unemployment to 4.8%. Wales cancelled all 2021 school exams and Scotland some of them. Westminster insisted this wouldn’t happen in England but how long until that changed? Amanda Spielman of Ofsted said pupils might not go back in the spring term if there were no exams. Where did they find those odd kids that loved school?
Northern Plaguehouse
Wednesday morning, I continued work on the journal and watched PMQs. Keir quizzed Boris on the use of PR consultants. A scandal with self-employed people still falling through the cracks. I spent the afternoon listening to my own music (much better than the radio), painting ‘Maple Leaves’ and doing yoga. Meanwhile, Phil gave himself a buzz cut. After a rest, I sorted bags ready for the Ocado deliver which was a good job as it arrived slightly early. I almost froze my fingers off stuffing food in the freezer.
In scaled-down Armistice Day commemorations, a fat, grizzled Poet Laureate Simon Armitage recited a tribute. “It’s the crap Ted Hughes!” laughed Phil. In another world-beating feat, the UK headed the death league table. The Cock told MPs mass testing would be rolled out to 67 other local authorities after the Liverpool pilot. Universities were to close on 1st Dec, with rapid testing and travel corridors to allow students to go home and study on-line until Christmas. Universities Minister, Michelle Donelan, told them to display ‘refined behaviour’ before moving about the country – what a joke! In an attempt to allay safety concerns, Dummy Prof Van Dam wittered about the ‘mum test’, said he’d have the vaccine himself if he could and offered to help give jabs. While Europe ran out of ICU beds, local news reported that the north was disproportionally badly affected by coronavirus. Newsnight included a segment on our local TIT. Calderdale Director of Public Health, Debs Harkins, said it reached 95% of contacts but most didn’t qualify for a £500 grant to self-isolate and called for eligibility to be reviewed. A man working on the system told us they were ridiculously not allowed to approach people contacted by Dildo’s TIT. Taxi drivers got free PPE with the possibility of routine tests in the near future. I’d seen tweets from Debs with the weekly Covid infection updates but didn’t realise that during summer, the area had 20 x the average number of national cases. Workers in low income public sector jobs took the infection home to multi-generational households. Still low in our rural patch, I guessed they were mainly in Halifax.
‘We Own It’ set up a letter of support to the Covid Recovery Group (a group of 50 tory MPs). Before signing, I added: “Here in Calderdale, I understand that the track and trace system, set up by the local authority, has reached 95% of contacts. This demonstrates that local teams are far more effective than the woeful and expensive privatised system set up to line the pockets of the Prime Minister’s cronies.”
Has Anyone Seen The Level Playing Field?
A bright Thursday morning was spent bathing, hoovering and a modicum of writing before an early lunch and long-overdue afternoon walk. Leaving the house, Phil had to go back for a mask. I bemoaned the palaver to a passing friendly neighbour: “it’s one more thing to remember isn’t it? keys, money, phone, mask…” “Put them on a hook near the front door.” She suggested. “I can’t guarantee they wouldn’t get contaminated.” That made her laugh.
Phil nipped in the co-op while I hung around near the back door. A friend greeted me, unrecognisable with his face covered. As his partner emerged, she said “I just said hello to your Phil. “Oh. Was he in there?” “It’s these bloody masks!” We headed through the park, resplendent in the afternoon sun. Climbing past the station up to farmland, large cattle had replaced sheep and goats in the fields. As I panted from the effort of the ascent, Phil said. “You sound like a killer cow.” “Charming!” We then ascended to the top path above the quarry, made tricky by errant trees, fast-flowing water and squelchy mud. Down in the wood, the small waterfall was inundated, We clambered to rest near the wall. Copper and bronze carpeted the paths and adorned spindly branches reaching towards the light, giving inspiration for the week’s haigai. Phil refused to believe it when we reached our usual return path and continued into uncharted territory. “It’s all different,” he said. “Don’t ask me; I never come this way.” We descended a horrid stony path. Finding it hard-going, I cautiously picked my way down to avoid a mishap. Phil raced ahead, only stopping when he espied a lenticular cloud hovering above. Back on familiar territory we took the easiest way home, where I slumped on the sofa with fatigue. (For a fuller description of the walk, see Cool Placesii).
Coronavirus cases jumped 46% across the country with Hull now top of the English infection charts. Val Vaz MP quizzed Rees-Moggy on the awarding of contracts during the pandemic and called for a public enquiry. In a web even more extensive than I’d imagined, ‘My Little Crony’ illustrated the number of contracts awarded to Tory family members, friends and donors. Great work by Sophie Hill!iii
Tired from the outing, I went to bed to watch QT (dominated by The Cock on the vaccine), and Brexitcast – yes, it was back! They knew nothing I didn’t already but highlighted a tweet from Michel Barnier in a playing field, joking: “Short break from intense EU-UK negotiations in London… Went looking for level playing fields…” Good luck with that, mate!
Unlucky for Some
I woke early on Friday the 13th to the gentle hum of traffic in the rain. Were people fed up working from home after only a week of lockdown? By the time I rose, the rain had stopped, becoming sunny and freakily warm for the time of year. Feeling lazy after a week of mediocre sleeping, I dithered over small chores and wrote ‘Autumn Rainbow’ for Cool Places. Posting the blog later, I again had trouble with links. Due to Ocado not having everything in stock that we needed, I annoyingly still had to go to the co-op. Why was our preferred coffee so elusive? Was it because of Brexit? I later relaxed with yoga and practiced guitar.
Infections slowed but still stood at 5000,000. Sage said the ‘R’ rate was between 1.1 and 1,2, higher than Kings College’s Zoe App rate of 0.8-0.9. At any rate, cases and deaths still rose, due to manic mixing before lockdown #2. While rates fell in the young and rose in the old, over 1k school clusters led to 12-16 year olds infecting households. My mind whirled trying to reconcile the differing data. Yorkshire Ripper Peter Sutcliffe died of Covid-19 after refusing treatment. Phil said: “I’m not surprised. He was probably a tin-foiler.”
The resignation of top adviser Lee Cain the previous day caused chaos in Downing Street. His bezzy mate Scumbag was predicted to be gone by Christmas, then made a very public exit with his box, from the shiniest front door in the land, Friday teatime. The Daily Mail predicted a ‘vicious attack’ between now and when he was officially severed in December. Wondering what on earth Boris’ girlfriend had to do with it all, it transpired The Symonds texted Boris 25 times an hour and called his office 20 times a day with her thoughts on policy, leading to her being nicknamed Princess Nut-Nut by Scumbag and his cronies. He’d forwarded a text with that moniker thus told to clear his desk. Would The Symonds and Allegra Stratton become The Bumbler’s key advisers, the latter seen flouncing outside Number 10 in a fancy car?
In spite of a stuffed freezer, Phil hankered for pheasant and went to the butchers on Saturday. I pottered round the house until he returned to cut and dye my hair. In anticipation of a lengthy cooking time, I started pot roasting the pheasant almost straight after lunch but it was much quicker than previous efforts.
On the main day of the 5-day Diwali celebrations, Rishi was seen decorating Number 11’s doorstep and urged fellow-Hindus to keep to lockdown rules, even if it was difficult.
Incredulously, in an interview on Sky News Thursday, he didn’t rule out the return of ‘eat out to help out’ in January. Had he not seen the figures on how infections shot up after the summer meal deal? When would the government learn they couldn’t have their cake and eat it? They either had to prioritise public health or the economy, instead of see-sawing between the two. As Boris had already said, you couldn’t negotiate with the virus. I subsequently composed a tweet to that effect.
I awoke Sunday morning with cramp in the instep area of my feet, which was odd. Phil planned to do a job for his AI boss – posing outside. In a fine spell between showers, he set his tripod up in a gap in the parking area of the street. Passing neighbours looked bemused “He’s got a new job. Working for an AI. It’s the modern world” “Exciting!” they exclaimed. Not sure Phil would agree as he later had issues uploading the photos. Much swearing at his Apple browser ensued. I headed for the so-called Farmer’s Market, where the rustic veg stall had a good selection of home-grown produce. Violent gusts suddenly whipped up. The server complained her colleague had removed the windbreak. “Mind you, it was as much use as a chocolate fireguard.” “Or chocolate windguard!” I suggested. Since the hipster bakers had deigned to accept cash again, I got an artisan loaf and perused the nearby red telephone kiosk. Persons unknown had thoughtfully turned it into a book exchange. Finding something to take, I vowed to return with my cast-offs Going home, celery leaves trailed in my wake. The market veg required extensive washing after which I needed a break, before starting the process of pickling shallots. Phil joined in as a distraction from his tech woes.
Useless George waffled on The Marr, denying Brexit meant the death of UK farming but with 95% of sheep exports going to Europe, it wouldn’t be so lucky for our locality. Despite “Sticking points,” he said “(it) should be possible to reach that agreement,” but we needed to prepare for no-deal. “How?“ I shouted at the telly, “those stupid government ads don’t say what we’re meant to do!” Back in Brussels, Lord Frost claimed there was “some progress in a positive direction.” I wondered how you could have progress in a negative direction. Prof. Ugur Sahin creator of the Pfizer/Biontec vax warned of a hard winter as the vaccine wouldn’t make an impact until 2021. He said we must have mass immunisation by next autumn/winter and due to mutations and uncertainty on how long it would be effective, jabs might be required every 6 months. They just didn’t know! After a meeting with MPs, Boris self-isolated for a second time. As several others self-isolated, the Infecting MP was labelled a ‘super-spreader.’ Questions arose about why the meeting had been held face-to-face, why they weren’t standing 2 metres apart during photos and why Boris flitted between his flat and desk in number 10. Smelling something fishy, Phil cried: “he’s gone into hiding again, the coward!” “That’s because he has no clue what to do without Scumbag pulling his strings!” “You might very well think that – I couldn’t possibly comment.”
References:
i. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com
ii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/
iii. My Little Crony: https://bylinetimes.com/2020/11/13/what-i-learnt-about-the-great-procurement-scandal-building-my-little-crony/
The Corvus Diaries 