Corvus Bulletin 1.1: Neverwhere

“The reputation of Parliament is possibly as low as it’s ever been and that reputation is very largely undeserved because the vast majority of members of the House of Commons are strongly committed to doing their job in accordance with high ethical standards. A big priority for me is supporting members who want to commit to those standards, being very clear in sanctioning those members who fall away from those standards and not allowing them to tarnish the reputations of the vast majority who are committed to standards.” (Daniel Greenberg)

On Newsnight 17^th January, the new commissioner for standards said ‘standards’ a lot. Appointed October, it was the first I’d heard of Daniel Greenberg. Geza Tarjani videoed himself shouting ‘murderer!’ at The Cock on the tube at Westminster and was arrested for common assault. The register of member’s interests showed the tight-fisted Cock gave only £10m of his £320k I’m A Celeb earnings to charity. As the tight-fisted government announced help with household energy bills from April would only be for those on means-tested benefits, Rishi set out 5 promises: i halve inflation; ii. grow the economy (omitting details on how); iii. ensure the national debt fell; iv. reduce NHS waiting lists within 2 years; v. new laws to stop small boat crossings. He promised we could hold him to account on what were also our priorities (as claimed in a subsequent party political broadcast).

The last time I looked: i ministers claimed inflation was due to global forces like the war; ii. the economy shrank so the only way was up; iii. people cared about their own debt rather than the national debt; iv. shorter NHS waiting lists would still be longer than pre-covid times and IFS predicted they’d flatline during 2023; v. all efforts to stop dinghy crossings had failed so far – how would more tinkering help?

On the third anniversary of the EU deal, Keir said labour would turn ‘take back control’ from ‘a slogan to a solution’ by devolving more power from Westminster. Meanwhile, The C**t told Bloomberg’s Brexit would shake Britons out of their comfortable torpor, turn them into risktakers and put the UK at the forefront of the digital revolution. His plan for economic growth ‘necessitated, energized and made possible’ by alleged regulatory freedoms, focused on ‘four Es’: enterprise, education, employment and everywhere. He was clearly living in Neverwhere!

Insinuating companies had gone too soft to reap the benefits of Brexit, he was criticised by business groups for lack of detail. Chief IOD economist Kitty Ussher suggested a fifth ‘E’ for ‘empty’. Halving inflation more important than cutting taxes, he made no mention of public sector pay, which Paul Novak referred to as the ‘elephant in the room’: “Public servants will be deeply worried about the chancellor’s warnings of further restraint. We know that is usually code for cuts.”

Shrinking by 0.6%, the UK was the only G7 economy not to return to pre-pandemic levels. The IMF blamed dependency on expensive energy sources and lack of investment, but seeing the autumn statement as stabilising, thought prospects might improve during 2023. Despite Brexit leading to more red tape thus less trade and variety of goods and the few deals actually struck with non-European countries predicted to have only marginal impact, in the long-term, they didn’t reference it at all. Small producers hardest hit, farmers feared they wouldn’t survive.

A labour shortage of 330,000 and, no solution to the Northern Ireland protocol, Lord Frosty Gammon wasn’t surprised The Supreme Court ruled it lawful. Disappointingly not doing funny voices (like Justine Greening the previous week), on Newscast 9^th February, Lord Frosty still maintained Brexit was great and referred to ‘born again Brexiteers’ within the tory party. As most constituencies regretted voting leave, apart from three in Lincolnshire, it was more evidence they resided in Neverwhere. Even gammons like Rod Stewart realised we’d been shafted (We Are Failing as the Daily Mirror’s front cover declared), citizens of Brexit-Upon-Avon whinged they were lied to. Tough shit, suckers!

A startled Michael Glove-Puppet on Laura Kuenssberg Sunday 5^th February, spouted the usual tory rubbish, insisting the government honoured their commitments. The UK not yet honouring the Brexit deal, Michel Barnier begged to differ.

Also in tory Neverland, more sleaze emerged. Rich donor Richard Sharp denied brokering a loan for Bumbling Boris from Sam Blyth (a second cousin of Boris’ dad), around the time he became Chair of the BBC. Denying a conflict of interest, Sharp refused to resign. Commissioner for public appointments William Shawcross, later withdrew from reviewing the appointment process, as he met Sharp in a pub. Facing the DCMS select committee 7^th Feb, Sharp insisted his role was more like a ‘sort of introduction agency’. The SNP’s John Nicholson found it ‘a bit banana republic’.

Answering news report, Nads Zahawi confirmed he settled a £4.8 million tax bill including a 30% penalty while he was chancellor. Dating back to its founding, his dad paid for YouGov, getting shares in return. Rabid Raab defended him for paying all his tax up-to-date but Caroline Nokes thought he should ‘step aside’ as party chair and nasty Jerk Berry referred to him as ‘a distraction’. Reeves railed: “…if the prime minister wants to stick by his commitment for integrity, honesty and professionalism, he should do the right thing and sack (him).” Quizzed on tax avoidance at PMQs Wednesday 25^th January, Rishi insisted he was ‘very clear’, wasn’t PM when Nads paid HMRC, followed the appointments process for the minister without portfolio, and when new information came to light, instructed his new ethics adviser Laurie Magnus to investigate. New info since last week? Asked an incredulous Keir. Accused by Rishi of wanting it both ways (urging appointment of the adviser then objecting to them doing their job), Keir retorted, failure to sack Nads showed how hopelessly weak the PM was: “Is the job just too big for him?” Brutal!

Lord Evans subsequently criticised Nads for trying to close down the debate with legal threats, and not living up to The Nolan Principles, the standards which the public ‘rightly expected’ to be upheld. Quite! As a caller to Jeremy Vine observed, how dare they dodge taxes on their millions and then tell hard-working nurses they can’t budget? Nads’ case already unravelling, HMRC boss Jim Harra confirmed to the Public Accounts Committee that penalties weren’t imposed for ‘innocent errors’. Getting Magnus’ report on the 29^th, Rishi sacked Nads for a ‘clear, serious breach of the ministerial code’. Offering no apology, Nads blamed the ‘conduct of the fourth estate’ i.e., newspapers. Another instance of Neverwhere!

The Corvus Papers 3: The Rocky Horror Show

“To use a non-technical term, that’s pretty much bollocks” (Gillian Tett)

Unknowable

Saturday breakfast stressful, Phil took over. Accusations of inefficiency were a tad unfair given his new job. Still doing extra hours, he didn’t know for how long, but at least he enjoyed my lamb tagine after late weekend shifts. “I should hope so! I made it special so you’d have something tasty and warm.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t help with fatigue. Tired for different reasons, I pushed myself along the canal and round the park Sunday, found flowers and foliage, an edible apple among munched windfall and the squat boarded up. They Anarchists were gone by November. In the co-op, I got reduced items and a cheery greeting from Geordie ex-neighbour. Back home, I developed a headache but at least I’d had fresh air.

About to bathe Monday morning, Phil said I should’ve done so an hour ago. “Fascist!” I wrote until unable to focus and fuggy-headed and did yoga. Waking lots early Tuesday, I ended up oversleeping and became despondent at so many chores to do. Needing supplies again, I headed out. The alt therapy woman walked a few paces ahead, engrossed on her mobile and waving imperiously. In the co-op, she curated her basket in a way suggesting she wasn’t struggling like some of us – strawberries in October, FFS! A man fiddling under chiller shelves meant I couldn’t even get basic veg but did find a large bottle of cooking oil cheaper. Calling the surgery again, the answerphone said they were shut for staff training with no info as to when they’d re-open. Phil got home for a late lunch, saying he’d brought the rain with him. “Don’t sing another song!” Radio 2 on all day in The Store, he couldn’t help himself.

Pouring all night, low mood made it hard to be bothered about anything on a damp Wednesday. Phil again harassed me into bathing then interrupted my writing to say he’d better get ready for work. I’d forgot he was starting early, hastened lunch, and visited Walking Friend. The pretty fallen leaves made the steep steps slippy even in sturdy boots. I found her knitting, handed over the clean scrunchy and listened to her work woes over a cup of Earl Grey. Martin Green of Care England said without a complete restructure of the social care system, millions could be left without support and the NHS would be ‘on its knees’, so I wasn’t surprised to hear of low morale, exacerbated by increased workloads and pointless online training. I made suggestions and diverted her with other topics, when a text arrived saying she had a staff meeting on her day off. “You always have a choice, you could walk into another job tomorrow if you wanted.” I shared what I’d learnt about state pension eligibility to discover she wasn’t paying National Insurance. Now also on a low wage, Phil agreed the system was rigged to disenfranchise people and she should opt back in. Feeling sleepy, I accepted a second cuppa before dodging dog-walkers on the steps. Phil slept in the next 2 days. I took over breakfast apple art. Gracious about the browning butterflies Thursday, he unkindly laughed at Friday’s effort.

Having arranged to meet at The Tearooms, Walking Friend cancelled to hike with The Poet. We decided to go out anyway. I went ahead to buy cinema tickets for the first time in 3 years. Unable to process an extra discount at the box-office, they said they no longer recognised the PTL orange dot. Who knew what it was good for now? They kindly granted me the concession and gave me a CCA form for next time but I was ineligible – quelle surprise! I hung around for Phil and we perused the Greasy Spoon menu. Unsure if they served all-day brekkie, we opted for pies instead, listening sympathetically to Deli Woman’s travails of filling a vacancy. You just couldn’t get the staff nowadays! We ate in the park and ascended to woodland. A bumper year for conkers, we found none but plenty of toadstools (see Cool Placesⁱ). On a wet and grey Friday, I did boring admin and the weekend shop. Phil went to the kiosk while I paid at the till. The reader wouldn’t scan my MasterCard or accept the PIN for some unknown reason. As a man stood right behind me, I got flustered, lost confidence in knowing the number and used a different card. In my panic, I missed Phil sneakily picking up all the bags which he insisted on carrying as practice for work.

Baroness Halibut promised victims would be at the heart of the covid public inquiry. Rising 14% in a week, it was unknown if 1.3m cases was a winter wave. Increasing among over 70’s, we should avoid the vulnerable and get boosted. Of 1 million Brits with long-covid, 514,000 had it for 2 years. Growing since lockdowns, Councillor Friend told Look North there’d be changes to hazardous street furniture in Toy Town. Ostensibly turning pink for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Girls Aloud launched Primark nightwear.

Larry the cat eschewed a stroking from Trussed-Up as she met the Danish PM outside Number 10. In Brum for the tory conference, she admitted to Laura K the kamikaze budget caused disruption, and shock announcements could’ve been handled better but repeated it was everyone else’s fault, threw Kwasi Modo under the bus saying he decided to scrap the top income tax rate and attend a hedge fund managers’ champagne reception the evening before the pound tanked: ‘I don’t control his diary’. She didn’t mention Melton Mowbray pork pies going under. NOT taking back control of pork markets? That. Is. A. Disgrace!

Noncommittal on benefit cuts, she said Coffee-Cup was looking at it and Kwasi was sorting everything else. The Glove-puppet and Shatts both lambasted ‘Trussonomics’; the latter predicting a commons revolt. A U-turn on the top tax rate and release of forecasts came after a late-night meeting. Only knocking £2bn off the bill and other unknowns in the pipeline, markets remained jittery. Having a tough Monday, Kwasi reiterated commitment to growth, evaded a direct apology but ‘humbly’ accepted cutting high earner’s taxes was ill-judged. Meanwhile, Tory chair Jake Berry told Sky News the answer to soaring bills was to ‘either cut consumption, get a higher salary or go out there and get that new job.’ Chris Bryant retorted: ‘Do tories think people haven’t tried this?’ Division in the ranks, Mordor said benefits should go up with inflation rather than wages, Swellen accused them of coup-plotting and Trussed-Up repeated they hadn’t decided before posing in a hard hat and Hi-Viz at a Selly Oak factory. At fringe meetings, Swellen couldn’t wait to deny migrants arriving in dinghies the right to seek asylum: it was her dream to see a plane-load heading for Rwanda on The Torygraph cover before Christmas! POA called Manston processing centre a ‘pressure cooker’, with channel-crossers illegally held for a week rather than 48 hours, running out of food and water and police called. Rees-Moggy urged shoppers to ignore a new law banning sweets near supermarket tills to save the choc orange. Good to see him focused on important issues, he probably disapproved of Quality Street ditching iconic plastic wrappers too!

Striking Post office staff were joined later in the week by 999 call-handlers. Yorkshire bus services cut, government capitulated on Northern Poorhouse rail going to Bradford. South Eastern would axe first-class carriages and water jets would clear pesky autumn leaves from Northern Rail lines in Yorkshire but not here. Warned it needed to ‘drastically improve services’, Avanti West Coast was given a 6-month extension. How bad did they have to be to lose the franchise? Tories left Brum early Wednesday before Trussed-Up’s address. Allegedly due to the biggest rail strike yet, postponed from September, or because they were fed up of the febrile atmosphere. Playing dress-up in a red frock like Emma Thompson’s Years and Years right-wing PM, Truss said she was willing to take difficult decisions to get the economy moving and change meant disruption but would benefit everyone. The short-lived abolition of the top tax rate a ‘distraction’, she’d listened to people and wouldn’t allow the ‘anti-growth coalition’ to hold her back. She sounded like a right tin-foiler, lumping together Labour, Lid Dems, ‘militant’ unions, Brexit-deniers, XR and Greenpeace (who were ejected for intrusion) and aped Thatcher saying they were ‘wrong, wrong, wrong’. Cabinet ministers cock-a-hoop, M People founder Mike Pickering was ‘livid’ at her entrance to Moving On Up, advising she heed the lyrics: ‘go and pack your bags and get out.’ Jeffrey Archer told Jeremy Vine she picked ministers based on friendship not talent, unlike Thatcher who only had 4 mates in Cabinet. Conor Burns was sacked as trade minister for serious misconduct (inappropriate behaviour towards a young man at conference). He’d ‘fully co-operate’ with an inquiry to clear his name. Spice Girl Mel B tweeted: ‘Really?? Your shocked about this complaint??? Let me remind you what you said me in lift…’ Not knowing if it was arrogance or disrespect, Nicola Sturgeon complained it was ‘absurd’ Truss hadn’t rung a month into the job.

Dropping over summer, Fareshare urged supermarkets to donate more surplus food. It’d be better if government faced the fact that people couldn’t afford groceries. Prices soaring, service sector growth stalled, Tesco half-year profits fell 10% and average mortgage interest reached a 14 year high 6.07%. The IFS predicting Trussonomics would make 99% worse off, Shell boss Ben van Beurden wanted to be taxed more to prevent damage to ‘significant parts of society’. Later revealing last quarter profits of £8.2bn (a £26bn total for 2022 so far), they’d paid no windfall tax as profits weren’t technically made in the UK. Amidst unknown variables, Ofgem warned of a winter gas emergency and prepared scenarios (rationing and blackouts). National Grid later said it’d probably be alright and On QT, Nads Zahawi said 3-hour outages were a worst case scenario. Why scaremonger then? Not wishing to tell us what to do, Downing Street refused to launch a public info campaign, but telly ads appeared the following week. Northern PowerGrid e-mailed a priority list and onesie sales rocketed. As Nads said inflation was all Putin’s fault, Piers Morgan had heard it all; even the dead queen was more culpable of crashing the economy than tories! Also delayed by Queenie dying, Kingy and Camilla went to Dunblane as the erstwhile Scottish capital was belatedly conferred city status. Despite the sham poll, Ukrainians retook the town of Lyman in Donetsk. Bags of drugs labelled Dior turned up on a Welsh beach. Cocaine galore!

Trick or Cheat?

Overnight rain led to window condensation Saturday. Not dispersing in sunshine, the chamois turned black doing the box room. Phil admitted it needed a proper clean. Despite moderate drinking, I had a slight headache. After coffee, Phil asked had I got over my binge – ha, ha! He agreed it wasn’t ideal working weekends but it did get us out of the habit of wine-drinking every Friday and feeling crap Saturdays. Taking an age to do blogs amid brightness and interruptions, I lost my thread, got angry, developed head fug and considered gardening when a cool wind arrived. Phil’s haircutting stalled when the clippers broke again. We thought we might need a trip to Big Town for new ones. We ate a hasty dinner to find the cinema had tricked us on the start time. I bought tiny cans of beer from The Oil Painter, remarking on artists resorting to menial jobs – It’s a shit business! We took our booked seats to watch a parade of ads and trailers before the main feature, Moonage Daydream. While some montages were a bit weird and tracks truncated, the David Bowie doc wasn’t the mish-mash Phil expected. I advised he stop reading Guardian reviews. Unseen footage featured La La La Human Steps practicing dance moves. Phil reckoned Bowie turned up to play 2 notes at their performance we saw years ago. So I had seen Bowie live and didn’t know it. “Now you tell me!” It was Phil’s turn to feel fuzzy Sunday. Was it the small beer or the brightly-colourful cinematic experience messing with his head? As he prepared for a late shift, I headed to town, hailed The Woman Next Door with a man near the old bridge, collected fallen leaves and went to an art exhibition. Hoping to see Welsh Art Friend, I saw only The Printer. We discussed her seaside prints until some of her mates turned up. I went charity shopping for books, DVDs and a throw. Phil brought home out-of-date bread destined for the bin.

Waking with a claggy throat Monday, I made soothing porridge, forgot spoons and irritated Phil straightening out bedding. A bad start to the week, I soldiered on, washed the throw to dry quickly on the line, getting knackered clambering up and down stairs. Tuesday, I cleaned rusty marks from plumbing tools on the landing windowsill. I left them upstairs to adjust the stiff bath tap but when Phil returned from an early shift, he tetchily blamed my technique. “Don’t talk to me like that!” “Okay, I’ll have a look.” A cricket landed on me at the co-op ATM. As I attempted a rescue, the small queue crowded round. “Is it a grasshopper?” Only in Toy Town – I’d be tutted at in the city! Inside, my namesake hunted for reduced face cream when a colleague said she’d bought it all. What a mean trick! A group of lanyard-wearing teenagers laughed in the aisles, ironically singing ‘praise Jesus’. I lugged the heavy, pricey items home as Phil got back, yawning and sighing: “I’m tired.” “Really? I wasn’t getting that!”

Early Wednesday, a niggly nose joined the sore throat. Succumbing to illness, I took Echinacea and sucked a pastille. Phil eventually asked what was wrong. “It could be the cold you’ve been in denial about all week.” “It’s not a cold, it’s a cough.” “Well, it could be the usual sinus lark. I haven’t had it for 3 months.” I wondered if the record gap was due to more antibodies, the hot dry summer, or DIY. “Doing stuff is good.” “Yeah, but I’ve felt iffy a few times since. Maybe it was bubbling under. I’m staying abed so don’t hassle me, but I need a bath.” “You’ll have to get up for that.” Cleansed, I fetched coffee and the laptop and watched PMQs. Absurdly only Trussed-Up’s second began with tributes to David Amess a year since his murder and 10 victims of a petrol station explosion in Creeslough Donegal. A backbencher guessed spooking the markets was incompetent not malevolent, but reneging on no-fault evictions was vicious. A less forgiving Keir asked if Truss agreed with Rees-Moggy telling us the crisis was nowt to do with her fiscal plans. She replied with the usual guff on taking decisive action, protecting the economy, higher growth and lower inflation. Kier spluttered she was lost in denial, with mortgages sky-rocketing, the public wouldn’t forgive or forget and nor should they; it was time to stop the kamikaze budget causing so much pain. After parroting herself, she blamed Vlad for global price rises, Keir for not supporting the energy price guarantee (he reminded her it was initially labour’s idea) and said he had a Damascus moment supporting the National Insurance reversal (which he always opposed). Asked if she’d stick to no cuts, she promised to spend wisely instead. One step behind the Shell boss on windfall taxes, he wondered why she insisted on tax cuts for the rich? After more resay, she whinged his union mates stopped people getting to work. Ian Blackford asked if the incompetent PM would give up her plan to save the chancellor by scapegoating the BOE – completely losing control, the only things growing were mortgages, rents and bills; was that what she meant by growing the economy? As she threw queries back (unchallenged by The Speaker who scolded Boris all the time for that), Blackford sniped if she wanted to ask him questions, they could swap places, to much mirth.

Phil fed me cute cheese on toast faces, like a nursery tea. Unable to go to Big Town, I spent ages ordering from the cranky Boots website A singing Phil irksomely woke me at 5.50 a.m. Thursday. I slept fitfully until 9, cleaned the bedroom and doubled up the long and narrow new throw into a bedspread. Hot, tired and legs leaden, I worked on blogs. About to upload, the laptop decided there was no internet. I turned it off and waited eons for stupid MS to update and re-start, only to be bugged again the next day. Phil returned from a shelf- stacking shift wearing his lovely new logoed sweatshirt (he had a fleece too). After resting, he asked if he’d missed any news. “Tories saying we’re all doomed!” Friday, lovely orangey-pink dawn clouds tempted me up. Phil offered to help with the weekend shop. With a short list, I said I’d be ok, but it was an ordeal with heavy bags and the reader not authorising my card again. Oblivious to my huffing and puffing, Phil went to work and I went back to bed. Getting home promptly from the late shift, he didn’t know why they bothered for a few drunks and stoners.

Kuoni’s Thai bookings 87% higher than pre-pandemic levels, covid tripled during a week-long Chinese holiday, meaning more lockdowns and travel restrictions. 1.7m infected by the UK’s 4^th wave this year, admissions increased 76% and 30% caught it in hospital, like in 2020. Stephen Griffin of Indy Sage fretted about NHS pressure. Reasonable uptake of autumn boosters, all over 50’s could book one (in theory) but Griffin wanted more eligibility.

NAO’s latest assessment put covid support losses at £4.5bn. PAC chair Meg Hillier urged government ‘get a grip‘ on fraud and loose controls. David Jason revealed he couldn’t move his limbs when he collapsed with covid during the summer.

ONS data showed wages fell 2.9% in real terms. Banker’s bonuses rising twice as fast since the 2008 crash, The TUC said government should raise the minimum wage to £15, give public sector workers more and encourage fair pay deals for others. Acknowledging the gap, a wheeled out Coffee-Cup repeated the hollow mantra of helping families with the cost of living. Unemployment at 3.5% but record vacancies, people were too ill or stopped applying for hard low-wage jobs like social care. CQC found 300,000 empty posts, leaving 1 million needy adults without care and 3 in 5 blocking hospital beds. As the economy shrank, consumers bought wonky fruit and veg, air fryers, electric dryers and candles, cutting bills and risking fire. School meal costs up 30% and 91% of providers experiencing food shortages, Laca wanted more money for a sector ‘on its knees’. Promising ideas on how and support, Ofgem ridiculously advised we reduce energy consumption. French EDF and Total workers on strike, Micron said they should be paid more. While M&S sped up closure of 110 larger stores, Pret A Manger staff would get a third pay rise of 5% in December. Strikes into a second week, Hull Stagecoach drivers paid less than colleagues in other regions were offered 14%, They wanted 17%. ACAS fruitlessly stepped in but Network Rail’s Tim Shovellor saw a glimmer of hope in talks with unions. Rejecting 2% and a £345 lump sum, Environment Agency staff were balloted.

In Scotland for the SNP conference, ex-chancellor Alistair Darling told Laura K. the government’s actions were ‘a textbook example of everything you shouldn’t do in difficult times’, economic turmoil was self-inflicted, they trashed the UK’s reputation and cost us dear. Nads Zahawi called Sturgeon saying she detested tories and everything they stood for, ‘really dangerous language’. Good grief! It’d be hate speech to hate Fascists next! He advised the ranks unite behind Truss, or risk a hideous labour/SNP coalition. Jon Ashworth spluttered that was ‘complete and utter nonsense and desperate.’ Vowing to hold a ref 19^th October 2023, Sturgeon told conference independence was vital with labour: “willing to chuck Scotland under Boris Johnson’s Brexit bus to get the keys to Downing Street.” In The House, the government won the National Insurance vote but select committee chair Mel Stride, warned Kwasi Modo he had to win over MPs to prevent more alarm. Dubbed ’Operation Re-assurance’, Modo’s growth plan and the OBR’s economic assessment were forwarded a month to 31^st October. Halloween too late to settle spooked markets, Rayner tweeted it was more like Trick or Cheat: ‘the tory horror show rattles on’. IFS reckoned they needed £60bn in spending cuts, Citigroup predicted a worse crisis than 1976 and we observed tories were always in power when the lights went out! Meanwhile, Trussed-Up went to play footie with the Lionesses.

Accepting the global energy crisis affected Europe more, the IMF again criticised Modo’s plans as a slow-down would follow any short-term growth, and likened the UK government and BOE to 2 drivers ‘trying to steer the car in different directions’. Aides combing through the mini-budget line by line to see what could be changed, a cap on renewable energy firm revenues was mooted – not a windfall tax thus not a U-turn. Phil reckoned non-renewables weren’t covered as a sop to their rich mates. BOE bought more gilts to prop up the shambling economy but wouldn’t extend the scheme beyond Friday. The pound plummeted. Modo blamed the war and pension funds for risky purchases. Err, that’d be dodgy government bonds then, you moron! Rachel Reeves hit back: “This is a British crisis made in Downing Street. No other government is sabotaging their own country’s economic credibility…”

Rees-Moggy accused Michal Hussein of breaching BBC impartiality saying the mini-budget crashed the economy and gaslighted the BOE for not raising interest rates enough. FT journalist Gillian Tett told Channel 4 news: “‘to use a non-technical term, that’s pretty much bollocks.” He was also contradicted by Kwasi Modo at the IMF in Washington Thursday. Admitting he’d made markets nervous, he wasn’t going anywhere as the G7 all had similar problems. IMF MD Kristalina Georgieva told him and Andrew Bailey they needed clear policy coherence and communication to prevent more jitters in a jittery environment: “fiscal policy should not undermine monetary policy…(or) the task of monetary policy…becomes harder and it translates into…further increases of rates and tightening of financial conditions…If the evidence is that you need to recalibrate, don’t prolong the pain.” A cacophony of backbenchers screaming: ‘it’s checkmate’, ‘we’re stuffed’, ‘it’s dire’, ‘we’re done for’ and frantic calls across the pond, Modo hid in the toilet then flew back to London. Traders betted on a U-turn, Kwasi gone by the weekend and Trussed-Up finished within weeks. James Uncleverly said it’d be a bad idea and Alistair Campbell said an out-of-depth Truss couldn’t do the job. She went to see Kingy, who chortled: ‘Back again? Dear, oh dear!’ and sacked Modo Friday, making The C**t the fourth chancellor since July. Saying they’d moved too fast, they kept the corporation tax rise, as Rishi planned. Spreadsheet Phil reproached them for throwing away years of hard work and Reeves said: “Another change isn’t the answer…it’s time for a labour government.”

On a lighter note, Coffee-Cup evaded questions on scrapping smoke free targets, saying she was concentrating on her ABCD. Blood transfusion levels critical, B should stand for ‘blood’. Wes Streeting called her ‘clueless and hopeless’. Artist robot Ai-Da answered pre-prepared questions in The Lords saying AI in creative industries were a threat and an opportunity. NZ proposed a tax on animal burps and pee. Did they not want food production? Farmers later held street demos. Staid conservation groups the National Trust, RSPB and Wildlife Trusts united to protest violation of the countryside, write letters and ‘all options on the table’, didn’t rule out direct action. Motorists dragged Just Stop Oil protestors off London roads, 24 were arrested and 1 went to hospital. 300 involved by the 11^th day of action, an irate electric taxi driver told road-blockers he was doing his bit. As they blocked The Mall, Mark Rowley said they’d not yet caused sufficient ‘serious disruption’ to warrant forcible removal. Anglian Water planned to build the UK’s first new reservoir in 30 years. About bloody time!

Cops co-ordinated operations to smash 172 county lines, find 321 weapons and £2.7m in drugs and make 1.360 arrests, including for modern slavery. The Met investigated 625 sex and domestic abuse claims. Ahead of Asylum Aid’s Rwanda High Court hearing, 1,604 channel crossings Sunday-Monday made 2,232 for the month and 35,000 for the year. In a dig at Giorgio Melon, Popeye called the exclusion of migrants ‘scandalous, disgusting and sinful’. Saturday, The Kerch Bridge linking Russia to Crimea, blew up when an exploding lorry set oil tankers alight. Vlad ordered a full investigation and Russian media blamed Ukrainian ‘terrorists’. Err, there’s a war on! Retaliative shelling of Ukrainian cities including Kyiv and memes of battle dolphins ensued. The bridge was fixed by Wednesday and 8 suspects detained. Japan’s Epsilon 6 rocket was ordered to self-destruct after launch. JAXA apologised and investigated. X-ray radiation from a gamma ray, the brightest ever discovered, still emitted an afterglow of rings weeks later. One-time WRP member Vanessa REDrgave became a dame, Ant & Dec missed yet another NTA due to covid, and Gaslight inventor Angela Lansbury died. Glasgow cheated, Liverpool would host Eurovision 2023.

Jokers and Wasters

Saturday, Phil joked: “Is she gone yet?” “No, but The C**t was on BBC Breakfast.” Marking an end to Trussonomics, he said they’d be judged on the next 18 months, not the past 18 weeks, blamed the usual culprits of the war and energy meaning no fast tax cuts or increased spending and all departments making efficiency savings. 4 chancellors since July (Saj, Nads, Kwasi Modo, The C**t), resembled the 4 stooges. “They’re running out of credible people. If it goes on like this, I envisage a crap Netflix.” “Yep. The Downfall UK. A satirical comedy with fake ‘where are they now’s’ at the end: in a loony bin; in the sea; in an Amazon warehouse; working for Deliveroo!” “I bet lots of them red-wallers want it to end so they can go back to sane jobs.” Still ailing, I tried not to be depressed as sun chased away a watery chill to reveal a lovely autumn window scene, posted the final Scarborough blog and figured a way to share it on Insta (see Cool Places 2ⁱⁱ). Wearier and achier Sunday, I stayed abed reading and writing. My Valley Life article buried among the ads, kind words from Phil and Decorating neighbour dissuaded me from packing it in next year. Phil returned from the late shift with sausages and mini brownies. Tussling brightness and indigestion, I took Gaviscon, drew curtains left open by Phil and used the meditation soundtrack to drift into bad sleep.

Monday, I felt like I’d been hit round the head. Ignoring my pleas to delay chores, Phil accepted the Boots delivery and assembled rubbish. I unpacked toiletries, added cardboard to the pile and went back to bed. He brought me brownies with the coffee. “I don’t want them,” I snapped. As he took them away, I apologised: “It’s not you, it’s depression at still being ill, especially in nice weather.” I posted September’s journal entry while he went to the co-op and work, bringing home food rescued from waste. Grateful for any freebies, I could’ve done with the ready salads earlier. Hot flushes added to another crap night. My nose running Tuesday, Phil asked: “Are you still sniffly?” “Yes, but the fatigue is worse.” “Cheer up.” “No!” “I’ll pull funny faces.” “God no!” My mind wandering until he made moves, I leapt up to sort washing for him to add work clothes, bathed, ignored kitchen clutter and plodded back up with coffee. Too hot and bright to write with sun streaming in, I’d had enough of being bedbound, opened the window, put a dress on and went down for lunch. Phil related tales from The Store, explaining how well-packed herbs sometimes arrived damaged. Otherwise, there was little waste. I thought it’d reduced loads over the past 2 years, but declared it enough shop talk. “I literally am talking shop!” I joined him on a short canal walk in mellowing light, returning with backache and jelly-legs but cheerierⁱ.

Woken Wednesday by Phil rising for work and noisy traffic, I ignored aches and fatigue for some exercise and tidying before PMQs. Going on errands, I noted an unlocked front door and a felled trellis, hastened to town in a nithering wind and spotted Phil leaving The Store. As I tried catching up, he moved uncannily fast after a long shift, into the sweet shop. “Gotcher!” “No you haven’t. It’s for someone else.” Walking home, I imparted the bad trellis news. “Pah! Call that bad news?” He tied it up, then panicked over his mislaid phone “You need to eat.” “I can’t think about that now!” “I’ll ring it for you.” “It’s on silent so that’s no good.” I called the number. It vibrated. “See, no need for all that stress!” Thursday, I dithered over shopping. Trees across the valley making rain clouds, it was too foul for the market, so it was the co-op again. Having noticed the microwave clock at zero for the second time that week, a short power-cut was confirmed by half-empty shelves. You’d never get that level of waste in the Store! I eschewed outrageously-priced toiletries, miserably slogged home and went back to bed.

Text reminders told us to book covid boosters with a GP or local pharmacy. Finally getting his shift patterns, I rang Friday. 6^th in the queue, I actually managed to get slots early November but we couldn’t go due to colds. I also asked about HRT. The nice receptionist sent the doctor a ‘task’, advising I call back Monday. Waitrose reported increased fish-head and lamb neck sales for use in slow cookers. We couldn’t decide whether to buy one. Eating the last of my birthday chocolates, Phil whined that he’d not had as many. “Excuse me. You can’t buy me chocs then whinge you’ve been diddled!” But I gave him the last one.

High covid levels peaked but deaths were up to 400 week ending October 7^th, ahead of winter, adding to NHS pressure. The Moderna bivalent vaccine was found to be ‘good’ for a mere 3 months. Speaking to Laura K., the couple who developed the BioNTech version, still wore masks and advised we all did, especially if mixing with travellers. Building on what they’d learnt, they hoped for a cancer vaccine by 2030.

Laura asked The Cock if Truss should go. He replied a reshuffle was needed to make use of backbench ‘talent’(!) but nobody wanted another protracted leadership race. No: some wanted Rishi, some wanted Boris and Unison’s Christina McAnea wanted a general election. Depressed public sector pay could mean 1 million taking co-ordinated action. Nasty rhetoric and Therese Coffee-Cup telling nurses fed-up of the NHS to leave, didn’t help. If they got more, they’d spend it in local shops and Tesco. UK GDP 30 places behind Ireland, Tesco Boss did what he could to help customers and 300,000 shopfloor staff. Uncle Joe licked ice cream in Oregon. ‘Sick and tired’ of trickle-down economics, he disagreed with tax cuts for the super-wealthy but that was up to Britain. EU newspapers compared the UK to loser countries and Rob Halfon accused government of acting like ‘Libertarian Jihadists’ with us as guinea pigs. Yes, in an experiment based on ‘Britannia Unchained’ by Truss et al of the Thatcherite Free Enterprise Group. No costings or income streams apart from borrowing, made it a wish list, not a budget. Post-Brexit, post-covid, soaring energy costs, rampant inflation and a recession looming, it was the worst time for their madcap free market drivel*.

After a weekend ensconced at Chequers, Truss tried to shore up ministerial support and The C**t tried settling markets by scrapping all Kwasi’s measures except National Insurance and stamp duty cuts, bigger bankers’ bonuses, and, irresponsible to expose government to price volatility, muted an end to the energy cap in April. No benefit increases until then, ‘eye-watering’ cost-savings and more ‘difficult decisions’ on spending to come, everything was on the table. Borrowing still higher than before the kamikaze budget, the IFS and Sturgeon feared a return to austerity and Keir attempted to haul Truss in for urgent questions over long-term damage. Sent in her stead, Mordor said through gritted teeth, her boss was ‘detained on urgent business’. Amid the derision, Stella Creasy joked she hid under the desk. She actually met Graham Brady then shuffled onto the frontbench at 4.30. It wouldn’t be long ‘til she shuffled off again. Chris Mason asked was Rishi right? She replied she was sorry, had to reflect, ensure economic stability and advised fellow tories to not spend tough times talking about the party.

At PMQs, Justin Madders wondered why Truss sacked Kwasi Modo and not herself? She parroted an apology and guff on delivery. Keir wittily cited a Truss biography. Out by Christmas, was that the release date or the title? In fact, she was out by November**. Spouting crap, she said she’d taken more action than him after 2½ years in the job (err, he wasn’t the PM!) He queried how she could be held to account when she wasn’t in charge and the point of making promises that didn’t last a week – cuts loomed for one reason only; they crashed the economy but her only response was to say sorry. She said he backed strikers, she backed strivers. He retorted, with a mandate based on nothing and credibility gone, why was she still here? She screeched “I’m a fighter, not a quitter,” acting in the interests of the nation while he presented no alternative. After 10 U-turns in 2 weeks, Ian Blackford feared pensioners were in the tory cut frontline. Thinking it better seeing the PM behind a desk rather than under it, Stella Creasy asked a daft question on rights to watch sport, leaving Philippa Whitford and Sarah Owen to suggest she do the decent thing. An economist on Daily Politics said the growth plan was gone and a labour government meant even higher spending. Lisa Nandy replied theirs was growth plan, they’d be careful with every penny of public money and put more in people’s pockets. Stephen Baker denied they’d wrecked the economy and ignored Lisa’s quizzing on listening to the OBR. She spluttered, how dare you talk about waste when this government wasted billions, set fire to unusable PPE and wrote off covid fraud? As he spewed more lies that society was to blame and nowt to do with 12 years of the tories, Lisa couldn’t believe what she heard. After an interview with Baker, Channel 4 news anchor Kris Guru-Murthy muttered “what a cunt.” Taken off air for a week, Baker said sacking him would be a public service but then accepted an apology.

In a fatal blow, Swellen resigned over sending official docs from her private e-mail and wrote she owned her mistake, unlike the PM: “pretending we haven’t made mistakes, carrying on as if everyone can’t see we have made them…hoping things magically come right is not serious politics.” Phil erroneously thought it showed integrity. 43 days as Home Sec the least since the Duke of Wellington, Grant Shats, who’d criticised Truss 2 days before, stepped in. Seen as a confidence vote, tories were whipped to oppose a labour bill banning fracking Wednesday evening. Amid fracking chaos, Rees-Moggy marched MPs through the ‘no’ lane. Chris Bryant accused him of bullying. Chief whip Wendy Morton and deputy Craigy Babe (declaring “I don’t give a fuck anymore”) resigned. On Jeremy Vine Thursday, 13-year old Casper grasped politics better than grown-ups saying: “If you don’t have a government with integrity, how can they govern properly?” The fracas culminated in Truss standing at the lectern at 1.00 p.m. Unable to deliver the mandate members elected her to deliver, she’d spoken to Kingy and resigned. So much for fighting, not quitting! ‘To maintain stability and continuity’(sic), she and Graham Brady agreed an expediated leadership election within a week – the shortest-serving PM ever didn’t even last that long. Asked was it a dog’s dinner, Brady stammered, “Well, it’s certainly not a circumstance I would wish to see.” Candidates needing at least 100 backers, there’d be only 2 by Monday. Truss’ popularity at -70%, realising what a fuck-up they’d made, it was just as well members didn’t get to vote with 1/3 braying for Boris (whose popularity low was -55%). International leaders had a good laugh and QT was shown live. Rachel Johnson observed the Jeremy Vine lettuce outlived Truss. Even the carefully-curated audience called for a general election except 4 calling for Boris, who had a proper mandate and was ‘hounded out’. Tony Danker said if tories put country and economy first and stuck to C**t’s plan (which we didn’t yet know), they might have a chance. Camilla Cavendish, FT, favoured Rishi as he went all the way with Truss! All agreeing Keir was credible, he’d have no money to implement bold plans which Graham Stuart called unaffordable and unrealistic. Jess Philips was flabbergasted a minister said labour would crash the economy when they’d just crashed the economy. While true they didn’t know what they could afford thanks to Truss, they’d borrow to invest, not to cut the rich’s taxes.

Government loan interest at £7.7bn, inflation was back at 10.1%. Food up 14.5%, it’d be more if it weren’t for petrol. Shop sales dipped below pre-pandemic levels. Calling it junk food, The Guardian featured web sellers of discounted out-of-date groceriesⁱⁱⁱ. Wittily alluding to Swellen whingeing about support for strikers, they asked for money from ‘tofu-eating workerati’ (obviously part of the anti-growth coalition!) At her last TUC conference, Frances O’Grady was angry at toxic tories, aka ‘Robin Hood in reverse’. NHS and care workers leaving for better-paid jobs, those left couldn’t cope and were balloted. More rail and tube strikes were announced for early November. Anne-Marie Trevelyan wheeled out ostensibly to discuss laws enforcing minimum service on strike days, Mick Lynch advised she get on with sorting out the dispute. CWU said PO strikes weren’t about pay but T&C changes, ‘uberising’ staff in secure, well-paid jobs into a ‘casualised, financially precarious workforce overnight’. CGT asking for 10% rises, French oil, rail, teaching and hospital workers struck. South Yorks trams would revert to public control in 2024. 6 towns already writing bids, drafting of the Great British Railways bill stopped – delayed or cancelled? Keighley trialled noise-detecting cameras to spot needless engine revving and a joker chucked a microwave at a car in Gainsborough. A crackdown on protests planned, TfL sought injunctions when Just Stop Oil blocked Park Lane Sunday and 2 protestors climbed up the QE bridge above the M25 Tuesday, to have fireworks thrown at them and get arrested when they descended, making a total of 150 during 2 weeks’ action. On Jeremy Vine, Anne Widdecombe was in favour of running them over rather than shutting the road. Friday, Harrods was sprayed orange and it was revealed Aileen Getty donated £900,000 to a Climate Emergency Fund giving some activists a ‘small income’.

The Pentagon wavering on funding Starlink, Elon Musk still gave the Ukrainian internet service £17.8m a month. 23 Iranian kamikaze drones shot down over Kyiv, 5 hit the ground. The EU were ‘following closely’ as it may have broken the Iran nuclear deal. 30% of Ukrainian power stations hit, Vlod said negotiating with Vlad was no longer an option. Martial law was declared in the 4 ‘Russian’ regions and civilians evacuated as Ukrainians advanced. Suspended for sexual misconduct, labour MP Christian Matheson resigned. Kevin Spacey was cleared in a civil case and faced a legal prosecution. Daniel Craig became a Champion of The Order of St Michael & St George, emulating Ian Fleming – he’d come a long way from the feckless Geordie in Our Friends in the North. An artisan at the National Glass Centre, Sunderland made a glass pumpkin. Much better than firing real ones from a canon, like Essex farmer Ross McGowan. What a waste!

Scary Monsters, Super Creeps

A stunning morning, wet roofs glistened and trees echoed an orange-yellow dawn Saturday 22^nd. Phil finished an early shift in time for a colourful woods walkⁱ. Knackered after a total 20,000 steps, he rested. Aching all over, I could’ve used one too but instead, edited photos and read family WhatsApp messages which crashed my phone. A headache unfair after moderate drinking, I cheered up Sunday laughing at creepy Rees-Moggy living in the 18^th century. More overnight rain led to a dank day. Disinclined to visit the pumpkin festival, I installed the Halloween tree and devised a Christmas card while Phil worked. I had to shield him 3 times from spoilers of the feature-length Dr. Who until he’d watched it on iPlayer.

dull Monday spent on the phone to the surgery and British Gas, I haggled and stripped down the cover to halve the homecare quote. Head done in by admin, I ironed piles of summer clothes. The Metro app failed to load Tuesday, then updated to resemble all the other crap news sites. Phil found a way to access puzzles but the dimensions were all wrong. He disrupted kitchen chores bounding down the stairs shouting “there’s a chunk out the sun!” No forewarning of an eclipse, I hurried up to view a semi-circular disc like a Pac-man bite. Despite clouds and lens filters, my eyes became sore. I switched to infra-red turning the sky magenta. I left Phil preparing for work and ambled to the surgery wearing too many layers in unexpected warmth. The GP had advised I see a nurse before a tele-appointment, but I got a different story from the receptionist. The follow-up to discuss HRT would be with another nurse. God knew how you got to actually see a GP nowadays! Wearing a mask in the waiting room, no other patients did. When the nurse eventually appeared, she informed me they were only compulsory for staff, asked a few questions and took my vitals. Weighing less than last time, I said I’d been good, unlike with smoking. My only worrying vice and not causing a cough, she posited “if you stop, you might get one.” “You’re not supposed to say that. You should encourage me!” As she babbled on, I wasn’t surprised there’d been a delay – she could talk for England. I dawdled to the co-op where gaps included the fab cheap exotic stuff -had it run out? Paying at the kiosk, a fly crept along the counter. “That came out of your wallet.” My Mate jibed. “Cheeky! What are you saying!” Back home, I was startled by an e-mail from Valley Life. The next deadline in a week’s time, it didn’t seem 5 mins since the last one. Phil returned with a huge goody bag as the Ex-Landlady had stuffed in extras. “She must think you need feeding up!” We decadently ate some of the cream glut with tinned peaches.

Planning an earlier start, I’d set the alarm to be jolted from disturbed sleep Wednesday. The trees glowed gold above parched fields. Lolling on the couch, Phil whinged Shutterstock used the AI pic generator to mash up his photos then was magically ready – irksome as I’d rushed round all morning preparing for an outing. We swerved roadworks where the workman was hard at it, drinking Lucozade and tapping his phone, crossed to the bus stop, paid £2 flat fares and chatted on the ride Up Tops. Observing we’d miss the new PM’s first PMQs, we predicted a disparate cabinet descending into chaos, a reshuffle consisting of arse-licking creeps and another coup – watch this space! We alighted to walk into The Crags, admire effervescent woodland, bag almost-free apples and see a heron catching a fishⁱ. The longest jaunt for some time left us footsore, achy and muddy. As I removed clarted jeans, I feared mucky bits on the rug came off me. I was glad of leftovers and more peaches and cream for dinner.

Blissfully asleep until Phil rose early Thursday, I dozed, felt iffy, changed bedding, recovered with coffee, edited the Valley Life article and went out with Walking Friend, dissuading her from heron-spotting in favour of the market. A waste of time, I found a mere 2 of the sought toiletry items and was piqued by the man taking ages serving a couple. In the Med Café, busy with half-term families, we discussed spice preferences and recent walks, including her misadventures with The Poet, over versions of brekkie.

Phil rang after work to see where we were and pull faces through the window. His brekkie came quick and disappeared in his gob quick. Doing more errands, we saw a heron on the weir – no need to go hunting after all! In the large charity shop, we found a monopod and Armani jeans. A tired Phil took then home. My friend and I visited more charity shops and laughed at Noir crap. “I can’t look. It hurts my eyes. People buy that shit. Scary!” Walking her to the bus stop, I advised she opted into NI payments. Overwhelmed by stuff to do Friday, I got upset struggling with the bath tap. Phil came to help: “I thought you were actually crying.” “I was!” Doing admin after lunch got fractious. Trying to log onto online banking, the annoyingly hot, slow laptop found no internet. I gave up and stomped to the kitchen to make apple cake and chutney. Phil came to stir it up and prep jars. Feeling calmer, we totted up household outgoings, freaked by the unavoidable sums.

Wobbly during the last weekend of October, I stayed in. Saturday, we made butter from souring cream, taking turns shaking a jar until a butterball formed. I left buttermilk straining through a filter paper to use for Yorkshire pud batter, while Phil did my hair. Lunch involved a veritable country kitchen of 4 homemade items! Sniffy all day, Phil took a hot lemon drink up for an afternoon rest before a seasonal dinner and creepy films. Rain put me off going for knobbly veg Sunday. Instead, I edited photos, worked on the Valley Life article, got head fug and cleaned the bathroom in fading light as the stupid bulb popped. Phil got home from The Store with another bag of stuff – the benefits of working a late Sunday shift!

On Halloween, BBC breakfast said we should’ve got the first £66 under the energy bills support scheme. Many on pre-paid meters hadn’t received vouchers, but I couldn’t fathom ours. I re-checked accounts and rang BG to be in a 1½ hour queue. On the 3^rd attempt, an unintelligible Asian woman said I’d been transferred to BG evolve whatever that was. On hold again, this time with no clue for how long, I conceded defeat, sent off the Valley Life article and posted blogs. Then we both went out, him to work, me to the co-op. Barely able to think with a cacophony of screeching kids, I raced out the back door. A two-way traffic jam round the roadworks had cleared leaving an eerily empty road. With no trick or treaters, I ate a lolly from a selection bag. Late evening, my nose clogged and head drooped. Phil asked why I pulled faces. “I’m getting a cold. Your cold!” Expunging nasty gunk overnight, proved me right this time.

Numbers stable, hospital admissions fell, 10 million had autumn boosters and statins reduced deaths from severe covid by 37%. Flu down the last 2 years due to less face-licking, the 2022 season started early. High rates for under 5’s. those eligible were urged to get jabs. Taking over Llandudno and evading contraception during covid restrictions, the increased goat population ate hedges, slept in bus shelters and brawled in carparks. The council set up a task force to move them back up the Great Orme but they clearly preferred town life. 30 new cases this month, 2.3m farm birds infected with Avian flu by their wild cousins were culled, a nationwide prevention zone imposed and vaccines researched.

Boris flew back from yet another Caribbean holiday Monday 24^th to drop out of the leaders race, saying he had support but it wasn’t the right time and he couldn’t unite the party. Yeah right! Nowt to do with the privileges committee inquiry! Rishi became the first British Asian PM by default on Diwali. Mainstream media didn’t mention the partial solar eclipse (another bad omen) as Trussed-UP inanely spoke Tuesday, not ruing dragging us to the brink: ‘I’m right you’re all wrong’. Off to the funny farm, Liz!

Rishi met Kingy. Orating on unity and stability in tough times, he ‘fully appreciated’ how hard things were, pledged “a stronger NHS, better schools, safer streets, control of our borders, protecting our environment, supporting our armed forces and levelling up.” David Farquharson made a Truss dog toy. Shipped at a cost of £3,500 after she resigned, it served him right for getting them from China! He hoped ‘politically incorrect’ retailers would buy them.

Brexiteers on Romford market wanted Boris back and Scarborough chippies whinged staff shortages curbed opening hours, even in peak season.

The C**t, Wally, Babadook and Uncleverly stayed in post, Glove-Puppet returned to level up, Steve Barclay became health sec and Coffee-Cup moved to environment. Rees-Moggy was replaced by Shats, Dowdy became cabinet sec, Gillian Keegan ed sec, and Rabid Raab deputy PM and justice sec- replacing Swiss Toni who sorted out the barristers dispute created by Raab (not widely reported, they got the 15% pay rise) and Swellen returned as home sec. Labour crowed, Boris might not be back but his cabinet was. Accused of doing a grubby deal, Rishi defended her re-appointment. As Jake Berry revealed she broke the code lots, labour called on Simon Case to investigate. On QT, David Lammy said Rishi had no mandate, awful Hartley-Brewer said the NHS couldn’t save lives, and Lucy Fraser lied there were 46 new hospitals. A nurse in the audience wanted better facilities not more hospitals. Armand Iannucci wondered where the social care plan Boris had at the start of his tenure was, blamed Brexit for staff shortages and 16-year-old interns for writing bad policy. Newscast replaced by another programme of nattering men in suits, I watched last week’s on iPlayer wherein Keir said it was better to be boring rather than exciting and create a scary Truss-like mess.

The Glove-puppet took a weekend off clubbing to tell Laura K. Swellen had integrity, would be great at her job, and make promises on extra help for households. Excerpts from the biography revealed that as foreign sec, Trussed-Up was more interested in selfies for socials than being briefed before meetings. Laughing at her rider comprising posh espresso, chilled Sauvignon Blanc and no mayo, Spreadsheet Phil preferred to go with the flow. At a special Stormont sitting on deadline day, Michelle O’Neil complained Jeffrey Donaldson’s refusal to power-share ‘til the Northern Ireland protocol was scrapped, a ‘failure of leadership’.

The Halloween fiscal statement delayed, the Beeb went to Creepy Crawley and Rabid Raab insisted it’d ensure it ‘stood the test of time’ and OBR forecast accuracy. They predicted the total cost of the government bail-out would’ve been £2.2 bn. On the day Kingy 50p coins were minted, former BOE boss Lord Mervyn King blamed the bigger boys, i.e., global banks, for printing money and over-borrowing during the pandemic. In favour of slow growth, he feared cuts worsening the situation. Octopus bought Bulb which collapsed last November. Ofcom encouraged internet providers to put customers before profits. Dipping into reserves for day-to-day costs, schools were running out of money. Threatened with legal action by South Yorks mayor for asset-stripping Robin Hood airport, Peel Group denied claims of a ‘credible buyer’. Ambulance workers joined nurse ballots, while an NHS recruitment drive aimed to replace 40,000 who quit last year. 2,000 Scotrail drivers and Avanti managers struck over rosters, Stagecoach staged more talks in Hull, Co-op Funeralcare coffin-makers in Glasgow started a week’s strike and announced more in November.

Only 29 of 193 countries meeting COP26 commitments, Guterres feared global catastrophe but was optimistic rumours of UK targets being ditched weren’t true. Rishi said he wouldn’t go to COP27 due to more ‘pressing domestic commitments’. What on earth was more important? Labour called ousting Alok Sharma from cabinet, despite going to hand over the presidency, a failure of leadership, and Caroline Green said it made a mockery of government claims on climate leadership. Coffee-cup disrespectfully told LBC: “The UK continues to show global leadership as opposed to just a gathering of people in Egypt.” Dead crustaceans littered the North East coast (was it algae or pollution?) and Southern Water spewed sewage into the sea at St. Agnes, Cornwall. Frank Spencer spewed platitudes on making progress.

More of the foreign aid budget spent on refugees in the UK than abroad, none of the 38,000 channel-crossers had asylum decisions. The Home Office unable to cope, conditions at Manston processing centre left inspector David Neal ‘speechless’. 66 year-old Andrew Leak threw petrol bombs and fireworks at the Western Jet Foil camp in Dover then killed himself. Islamophobic rants found on his Facebook page, terror police investigated. Amid fire damage, 700 were bussed to Manston, plagued by MRSA, scabies and diphtheria. Children screamed ‘freedom!’ over the fence. In the Commons, Yvette Coop accused Swellen of ‘working outside the law’ not providing extra hotel accommodation. Swellen retorted we needed to know which party was serious about stopping the ‘invasion’. Many of them allegedly recruited by criminal gangs in French camps, we should ‘stop pretending’ they were refugees in distress. How did she know if they weren’t processed? Swellen promised the 10,000 Albanians would be dealt with ‘within days’. The system broken and illegal migration ‘out of control’, she was on the side of getting a grip. The opposition guffawed at her incompetence. Also quizzed on breaking the ministerial code, Tulip Siddiq referred Swellen to FCA.

Xi Jinping became the first Chinese leader re-elected for a third term since Mao. Sergey Naryshkin of the Russian spy service denied Kremlin nuclear bombast, saying it was all Western rhetoric. He’d warned colleagues in Turkey, USA and France of Ukrainian plans to use ‘dirty bombs’. With no evidence, it was an obvious red flag. A huge Israeli raid in Nablus, West Bank wounded 21 Palestinians and killed 5. 3 were members of The Lion’s Den independent militia. Trump was subpoenaed over the Capitol Hill debacle, 6^th January 2021. Bolsonaro lost the Brazil presidency to Da Silva but didn’t concede defeat, a la Trump. At the biggest Halloween fest since before the pandemic in Seoul, 150,000 including a K-Pop star, died crushing to see a celeb. Riots and fireworks set Dundee on fire. Great Balls of Fire crooner Jerry Lee Lewis died. The dirtiest man in the world perished after having a wash. Villagers in Dejgah, Iran, persuaded 94 year old hermit ‘Amou Haji’ who ate roadkill and smoked animal poo, to shower. Musk’s Twitter take-over complete, he sacked execs and promised radical change (i.e., allowing toxic ‘free speech’ and charging for blue ticks). Adidas ended their deal with Ye over antisemitism. Losing his billionaire status, he was worth a mere £400m. Yesus! My heart bleeds!

Notes:

*Britannia Unchained: Global Lessons For Growth And Prosperity. Kwasi Kwarteng, Pritti Patel, Dominic Raab, Chris Skidmore & Liz Truss

**Out of The Blue: The Inside Story of the Unexpected Rise and Rapid Fall of Liz Truss. Harry Cole & James Heale

References:

i. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/

ii. My Cool Places 2 blog: https://wordpress.com/posts/hepdenerose2.wordpress.com

iii. Cheap food links: https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2022/oct/15/cheap-deli9cious-and-only-three-years-out-of-date-my-week-of-eating-food-past-its-best-before; https://cheapfood.co.uk/; https://www.rogerswholesalefoods.co.uk/

The Corvus Papers 2: Out Of The Frying Pan, Into The Pyre

“It has sometimes been observed that what leaders do for their people today is government and politics. But what they do for the people of tomorrow – that is statesmanship” (Queen Elizabeth II)

Pomp And Circumstance

Phil started work at the convenience store on 1^st September. I tackled chores and admin, ringing the GP surgery twice. 29^th in the queue, I hung up to try again later to be 50 something in the queue! I didn’t have time for a third attempt before the booked pension advice call. The nice Moneywise man provided tons of info, giving me head fug. Going out for air, an acquaintance dumped garden waste. I bit my tongue, even though she was still doing it on my return. I got nothing on the rammed but sparse market but ordered smoked salmon from the fishmonger. Phil interrupted my writing in the evening, asking where AJs was (who delivered bacon butties to The Store staff). “No idea. Ask them!” A very early start Saturday, he got home knackered but with interesting facts about supplying local cafés and specialists sorting newspapers. How quaint! A fellow photographer mate who worked there years ago, wasn’t surprised to see him, but my old art teacher was. Well, he was a bit pompous.

After e-mailing siblings about my birthday fundraiser Monday, Elder Sis made a generously commensurate donation to mark my 60^th and Big Sis donated a tirade on DEC corruption. I delayed replying to devise a diplomatic answer. As I hung washing, our old next-door neighbour and companion sat out, during a visit while the Polish woman visited her homeland. We shared tips on upcoming seaside trips and news of Phil’s job. She reckoned the boss was a bit of a B… Warm and sunny late afternoon, Phil asked if I wanted to go out. I snapped at another thoughtless interruption, he stomped off, but came back for an apology. Feeling uncomfortable, stuff to do and unable to think where we’d go at that time of day, I suggested sitting outside for vitamins. He squatted on the kerb chatting with old next-door neighbour. I joined in discussing health, languages, Europe and Brexit when The Widower came past. Next-door asked had he seen The Student? She then turned up with the rest of the tribe, having got back from Germany last week. “Zer gut!” The put-upon stepdad ferried stuff from the car. “Have you been camping?” “No, a cottage for a few days but we needed to take tons of stuff.” No idea why! Tuesday, workmen fixed the step at long last. Phil on the early shift again, in the afternoon, he rested and showered. “That’s better. I’ve got a week off, even though I’ve only been there a week.” “Yes but you weren’t supposed to be working till after our hols. Does it still feel weird going to actual work?” “Yes.” “It’s when it doesn’t feel weird you need to worry.” “Why?” “Cos you might give up other pursuits and think: ‘I’ll just work in the shop’.” “Like people in the pub?: ‘I used to be a photographer’.” “Exactly! It’s a slippery slope!” Starting Wednesday wobbly and itchy, I took medicines and persevered with housework. Phil amicably helped change bedding but unkindly mocked me tripping on the bedframe. I then slipped on a large letter on the doormat – more stupid pensions crap! Phil went secret shopping and I went to charity shops. Dumping books, I found nowt, but the community shop’s free school uniform rail was a good idea. In the evening, Phil insisted on toasting my birthday with fizz.

Boris went to Suffolk to gush about £700 million for Sizewell C, 1 of 8 nuclear power plants, not yet agreed with EDF and not operational until the 2030’s. Blaming labour for lack of planning, he obviously forgot Gordy Brown signed off 10 new plants in 2009. As he also suggested we buy better kettles to save £10 a year, Rayner said he wasn’t living in the real world, evinced by him embarking on a farewell tour! On the new Laura K Sunday prog, having ditched her promise of no direct help, Trussed-Up (who I’d just discovered shared my first name in real life) said it was good that rich people benefitted more from tax cuts and she’d have the energy crisis sorted in a week.

Raucous applause from Joe Lycett, the Daily Mail were incensed at him mocking their incoming leader. He kept up the pretence on Jeremy Vine the next day. As Truss was crowned Queen of Gammons Monday, she said ‘deliver’ a lot, Nasty Patel resigned and Big Ben ominously stopped. A Cabinet from Hell included Swellen as home sec and Therese Coffee-Cup as health sec FFS! Jeremy Vine asked if the morbidly obese, cigar-smoking boozer was a good role model. Clearly not! Farage gin trended on twitter. At 7.30 a.m. Tuesday, The Bumbler orated on it being time to pass on the baton, likening it to a relay race when someone changed the rules halfway through. Look who’s talking! Invested at Balmoral Tuesday, Trussed-Up flew back to stand at a wet lectern and ape Churchill, saying she’d take action every day to encourage growth by cutting taxes, deal with gas prices and get us all GP appointments (if only!) In fact, nothing happened for a fortnight apart from a very boring PMQs.

Dutch scientists used data from the Cambridge University Covid-19 sounds app (ongoing for 2 years, I’d never heard of it), to develop one that could detect symptoms, possibly more reliably than LFTs. Bristol Zoo closed due to falling numbers during lockdowns. Tracy Dustbin announced the promised low West Yorkshire bus fares. Starting Sunday, the maximum single fare was £2 and a day fare £4.50. BBC breakfast highlighted the plight of those in sheltered housing not covered by the price cap and OVO energy founder Stephen Fitzpatrick published a 10-point plan including subsidies. Benefitting low income households, with less help for those who used more energy, he had some good ideasⁱ. Unlike Edwina Currie, stupidly suggesting putting foil behind radiators. That’d do a lot of good seeing as we would hardly ever have the heating on; how about tapestries? The Guardian suggested cooking a baked potato in the microwave. Did they have Sean Bean’s recipe? The Which? column in Metro called for a minimum geographic baseline for access to cash. Almost 1,000 migrants intercepted crossing the channel Saturday, refugee minister Lord Harrington resigned saying the job of helping Ukrainians in need was done. As it was revealed Shamima Begum was smuggled into Syria by a Canadian spook, lawyers challenged the removal of her citizenship on the grounds that she was a trafficking victim. It reminded us of a film we saw where those nasty Canadian spooks left a kid rotting in a Thai jail.

Orangeoke

Alcohol and insomnia led to a groggy start Thursday 8^th. Phil also discombobulated, he made 3 attempts to say happy birthday. I treated myself to a mini-spa while he fetched the salmon to cook a posh brekkie. Pouring the end of the fizz for a toast, we had 1 sip and spent the morning trying to finish it – we couldn’t hack morning drinking anymore! He made a card from a cute classic car photo, complete with number plates labelled ‘Happy Birthday Mary’ and matching gift tags for more pressies than I expected. After unwrapping, I read Facebook messages and sent one to a cousin who shared my birthdate. Walking Friend called with sunflowers and a gift bag of goodies before a filling 2-course lunch deal at The Cypriot. Fuddled by cocktails, we palavered over splitting the bill and finished the drinks out on the street. Too quiet for after-school time, the reasons became clear later. Walking Friend came back for coffee, cake and Count Arthur Strong on DVD. Facing the grim prospect of coming home between rail strike days, I didn’t blame her for not visiting us in Scarborough the following week. Unbeknown to us, industrial action was postponed, explaining no altered schedule, but a medical emergency at Scarborough station delayed our return. Feeling stuffed and sleepy, I managed to edit celebratory photos and take a phone pic of a postcard stuck on the bedroom mirror, but recreating the vintage North Cliff view proved nigh impossible. The friendly seaside town offering much more than we remembered from our youth, we had a great holiday, avoiding scary Orangeoake at an unfathomable loyalist pub! (See Cool Places 2ⁱⁱ).

The queen’s demise confirmed at 6.30 p.m., Phil reckoned she died around 3, hence the hush, the royals flying to Balmoral and the palace saying she was ‘under medical supervision’ (a euphemism for euthanasia; protocol to prevent hanging on). Weirdly only 2 days after investing Trussed-Up, not only had a monarch never died in our lifetime before, a new PM and King in the same week was unprecedented. I’d never forget the date but at least I dodged a big 60^th celebration which would’ve been totally overshadowed.

Cue interminable toadying and suspension of parliament – so much for deliver, deliver, deliver! Saturday’s proclamation by King Charles III a load of pompous guff, it was historically made public for the first time. Appointed leader of the house and lord president of the privy council only 4 days ago, Penny Mordor led proceedings. It was followed next day by proclamations across the land (hence spotting a man in a funny hat in Scarborough), a King’s address Monday at Westminster Hall to both Houses, and Jeremy Vine observing Queenie had met more people than anyone else on the planet. By the week’s end, queues to see her lying in state grew to 24 hours, snaking into Southwark Park and forcing its closure. Among the throngs, a woman unbelievably with her mum’s ashes, David Beckham and Jacinda Ardern filed past. Jacinda subsequently gushed about the dead queen to Laura K, who showed a good snippet of her saying doing stuff for people today was leadership, but doing stuff for tomorrow was statesmanship. Touché! That’s why there were no statesmen these days. In contrast to the virtue signalling, Philip Schofield and Holly Willoughby were accused of queue-jumping. Defending their actions as a segment for This Morning, Holly was in bits. Sky News presenter Sarah-Jane Mee mistook people protesting The Met fatally shooting Chris Kaba for royal mourners, prompting 598 Ofcom complaints.

The least global deaths since March 2020, WHO Dr Tedros saw the end of the pandemic in sight. Having clicked links in texts received before our hols to find covid boosters unbookable, Look North urged so to get them! SNP MP Margaret Farrier received 270 hours community service. GDP rose 0.2% in July; less than expected because of the heatwave.

Retail sales fell 1.6% in August and the pound fell to a 37-year low of $1.13. Unemployment down to 3.9% in the last quarter, inflation was 9.9%, mainly because petrol fell 7.5% but food prices went up 1.5%. The John Lewis Partnership ‘forgo profit’ to give staff £500 each and raise starter pay by 4%. Amazon warehouse staff in Coventry were balloted on strike action. An EU windfall tax would raise more than €140bn towards energy bills. Meanwhile, the UK government said post-Brexit Northern Ireland border check suspension would continue and promised to backdate support for businesses, giving no details. Rich twat Chancellor Kwasi Modo planned to lift the bankers’ bonus cap. Labour 17 points ahead in some polls, idiot Lizzie Chat-show said they had one problem: Keir Starmer who didn’t even know what a woman was. Say, what now? At the party conference, Keir pledged to create a state-owned Great British Energy corporation to invest in green infrastructure, gain independence from Russia, drive growth and create a million jobs. IMF watching the dire UK situation, he said the tories had not only failed to fix the roof but “ripped out the foundations, smashed through the windows and blown the doors off for good measure.” He was met by standing ovations and a race row as MP Rupa Huq was suspended for calling Kwasi ‘superficially black’. She stopped shy of calling him a coconut and later apologised for ‘ill-judged comments’. Ukrainian gains in Kharkiv, Olena went to Strasbourg for the EC president’s state of the union address where Von Hitler said Vlad the Impaler would fail and declared solidarity with Ukraine, and husband Vlod went to Izium, crashing his car driving back to Kyiv. Turkish cargo ship Anatolian was allegedly fired on by Greek coastguards. New Met chief Mark Rowley started work.

A Huge Gamble

Tired from the prolonged train journey, I’d retired early Friday and spent most of the weekend writing up diaries, editing photos, washing and buying groceries. After sitting around for 3 hours Sunday, Phil declared he didn’t have time for lunch before his shift. Irked by unnecessary stress, I fed him coffee and cake then tidied the garden, seeing The Student to-ing and fro-ing in different coats in case it rained. Unaware The Woman-Next-Door sat in her parked car, she made me jump opening the door. Her Polish trip part holiday, part treatment for olfactory issues, she was a veritable ‘I saw you coming’ mug for every New Age therapy going! Fatigued, I went back in but at least I’d had fresh air and social contact.

Monday declared a Bank Holiday, media covered nowt but the dead queen. Deathly quiet, we heard 1 car, 1 train and bickering crows. Even The Store, open on Christmas day, shut 10-1. I stuck telly on as the state funeral procession set off from Westminster Hall for the abbey service with posh singing and an idiotic speech from Trussed-Up. The gun carriage slow-march to Admiralty Arch interminable and hypnotic, we wondered where all the Quality Street soldiers came from. World leaders told to catch the bus, Uncle Joe brought The Beast and Queen Margarite of Denmark caught covid.

Forcing myself to rise Tuesday, I made good progress with the new ‘corvus papers’ method. Phil asked if I needed any shopping. “Yes, There’s a list. I suppose you want smoking stuff.” “Yes I was going to town but I’ll go co-op.” In the end, he went on his errand then met me to help carry groceries and call me cheeky for chucking things in his rucksack. Still avoiding fuel use and experimenting with clothes-drying techniques, I realised I’d worn the same socks 2 days solid! Wednesday, I did boring stuff and Phil worked late. Slamming the front door on his return, the living room door swung open, bringing in a mass of cold air. I didn’t get warm all night. After cleaning the bathroom Thursday, I collapsed on the bed with a sigh. Phil asked what was wrong;, leading to a tirade on the wearisomeness of everyday life. Hard getting back to normal after the break, I’d just started to feel less overwhelmed by drudgery, when he’d dropped the bombshell he was working all next weekend. It wasn’t his fault but an inability to plan was stressful. He promised to ask why he was doing far more than the alleged 16 hours a week, made coffee and proffered choc biscuit misshapes, which he’d got from The Store (along with 3 packs of gammon steak) and already scoffed loads. Going to town, beech nuts on the street crunched beneath our feet and confetti festooned the old bridge. He checked his shifts and I perused the market. Toiletries scant, I scowled at a woman with sharp elbows rudely stretching over to pay while I was transacting. My mind went blank buying veg. Phil caught up to take photos of Chantilly carrots, making Jolly Veg Man laugh. As Phil strode across the square towards a parliament of corvids, I felt faint, flopped on a seat and decided lunch was overdue. Going home via the new bridge, he mused: “what’s in the river today?” “Ducks, sticks, an air freshener, an orange plastic thingy, a carrier bag…it’s like one of those memory games, or dementia tests.” Maybe I needed one after the brain freeze! QT from Grimsby the usual unbalanced nonsense, loony Clare Fox who started out in the RCP and ended up a tory-nominated peer, got too much airtime. On Newscast, rich git Cobra Billamora looked forward to the mini-budget giving him more dosh.

Friday 22^nd marked the autumn equinox. Seeing a light on early morning, I assumed Phil had gone to work, turned it off, then heard him rise. Checking the clock, it was actually 6 a.m., not 7. He later complained I’d woken him but got his own back waking me at 5.30 the next day. I exchanged texts with Walking Friend about free curry, The Poet’s fire party and a cinema trip. Shopping in sunny warmth, I felt overdressed, especially as Woman-Next-Door sat out in a sundress. Another neighbour also too hot, she’d prematurely stowed her summer clothes. I’d not even washed mine after our hols! At least my swimming cosi was unused, unlike the Scarborough Diving Belle. I potted a cutting in a cute pot for Walking Friend then got achy and tired pruning.

GP numbers still dropping and seeing one impossible, Therese Coffee-Cup said there was too much variation in the care people got across the country, and unveiled underwhelming plans for the NHS including a 2-week wait to see a GP; it was 2 days in 2010! Coming up with a moronic ABCD mantra (ambulances, backlog, care, doctors and dentists), she promised £15m more for carers and pension changes to stop doctors leaving the NHS. Holidaymakers were urged to cash in vouchers worth £30m before they expired at month’s end. Dunoon grammar school, Argyle, was shortlisted as among the best in the world for community help. Kids had streamed bingo into care homes during lockdowns and presented ideas to Cop26.

A cap would halve firms’ energy bills for 6 months from 1^st October. Long-awaited and welcome, businesses wanted more, but Rees-Moggy said they’d have to wait. Cost estimates varied from £25-40bn, depending on gas prices, on top of £150bn household support. IFS predicted £231bn government borrowing this year and debt rising for many to come. Reckoning the UK was already in recession, BOE raised interest to a 14-year high of 2.25%. At the UN in New York, Trussed-Up told the BBC she was prepared to be unpopular for ‘taking difficult decisions’ such as allowing bigger banker’s bonuses, to ‘attract investment’ and grow the economy. Labour said it was the wrong priorities. Doing 2 weeks’ business in 3 days, amid a glut of government proclamations, Rees-Moggy lifted the ban on fracking in England. Dismissing earthquake concerns, even as one happened in Mexico, INEOS claimed reserves could equal the North Sea. No cheaper and not enough for everyone, Greenpeace called for a nationwide solution to the energy crisis.

Trussed-Up gloated on the front bench as Kwasi Modo presented his Kamikaze budget. Besides what we already knew, he postponed the alcohol duty rise, increased the stamp duty threshold to £250k, cut basic income tax by 1p, abolished the highest 45% rate and defended banker’s bonuses as we needed global banks here, not Frankfurt. Total tax cuts equating to £45bn, Universal Credit claimants earning less than £142.50 a week (15 hours on the living wage) must prove they were trying to work more or face benefits cuts! Rachel Reeves called it the last roll of the dice after 12 years of tory failure, by “desperate gamblers in a casino chasing a losing run.” Allowing huge banker’s bonuses while axing nurses’ pay, Frances O’Grady wanted to know what planet they were on. Wearing ludicrous clod-hoppers with a suit, Kwasi told Chris Mason there was technically a recession but hoped it’d be shallow and then denied there was one! His former boss, hedge fund manager Crispin Odey, confirmed Phil’s belief that crashing the pound was a deliberate ploy to benefit his rich scummy mates by cashing in on betting against it, and gilts. Economists thought vastly disproportionate gains for the wealthy may artificially boost the economy but if the BOE responded with bigger interest rates, could prompt a boom and bust cycle. Avanti restoring some west coast services, RMT would strike again 8^th October. 30,000 had made dicey channel crossings this year.

NY attorney general Tish James accused The Trump and 3 sprogs of fraud by exaggerating how much they were worth. An appeal court ruled the papers could be reviewed and Trump bragged he could declassify state documents ‘just by thinking about them’. Referenda to be held in Russian-controlled regions of Ukraine, Vlad the Impaler openly accused The West of nuclear blackmail and announced a major escalation mobilising reservists, to ‘defend the motherland’ and ‘liberated territories’. 13,000 anti-war protestors were arrested and amid a rush to escape the call-up, queues formed at borders, outbound flights were full and Ruslan Zinin shot a military official at a Siberian enlistment office. At the UN, Uncle Joe called the referenda a ‘sham’ and the war ‘brutal’. Reports later emerged of households being forced to vote at gunpoint and Ukrainians fleeing Russian-controlled areas to avoid fighting fellow countrymen. On her way to meet Uncle Joe, Trussed-Up announced the return of 5 British nationals, thanks to Vlod and Saudi Arabia. As the sea monster in Weston was finished in the last days of Unboxed (aka Brexit Festival), Julian Knight of the DCMS committee, questioned how many visitors the ‘monumental waste’ had attracted. Creative director Martin Green insisted it was value for money. 95% of 12,800 saplings planted by Gloucester City Council to celebrate the jubbly, perished during the hot summer because there was nobody to water them.

At A Crossroads

Saturday, I went to a print fair at the town hall, to compliment The Printer on an image of Scarborough (similar to my photo panorama), speak to another affected by the fire and quiz a third on her etchings. I mooched round charity shops, the crap market where a posh woman exclaimed: ‘ooh mushrooms! Just like the dress I bought last week!’ (she meant toadstool earrings) and the wavy steps (eyed by a cute jackdaw). All heaving, I sought quiet in the library where an old pub mate exiting helpfully told me it was closing in 10 mins, confirmed by a notice. I got reduced items from the rival convenience store and lay in wait for Phil. As I hid in a doorway, a hippie parked her car with taped-over lights on the double-yellowed junction, went barefoot into The Store and emerged with a vape (aka the new crack). The plethora of highway code infractions almost tempted me to report her. Finishing at 3 on the dot, Phil headed up the street. I yelled “Oi!” We wove through the packed square to sit riverside and chat. Though a challenge lugging ice at 7.00 a.m., it was quite jolly on a Saturday and didn’t feel like a full working day (no commute helped). The NHS had sent me a birthday gift of a home testing kit. Sunday, I duly put poo on the stick and set out to post it. Drumming as soon as I left the house, the handmade parade was in full swing. Just my luck! Picking what I hoped was a less busy route, I was hemmed in by crowds, fought my way across the square and looked for the post-box. Remembering it went years ago, I bought knobbly veg and nipped in The Store where Phil was re-stocking shelves. “Have you *** seen it out there!” “Shh! Don’t swear!” “Sorry, see you later.” Over at the post office, there was no evading the parade as it went down the cul-de-sac. I knew it was a fun family event and I was being peevish but the throngs and drumming made me weary and headachy. Narked by Phil’s lack of sympathy later, I conceded he must be more knackered after 3 earlies on the trot.

Monday a chilly mix of sun and showers, one literally stopped after our house! Still tired, I struggled with a communal food wastebin that wouldn’t shut. Fixing the hinge, I muttered. The Widower appeared: “Talking to yourself?” “Yes, it’s the only way I get any sense, ha, ha!” Ahead of the new price cap, Octopus Energy boss Greg Jackson urged Ofgem to lower standing charges and BG helpfully e-mailed that our bills would be over 3 grand next year. Not if I could help it! I sent meter readings forthwith. Sleeping later Tuesday, I briefly felt the benefit, shopped speedily in a tranquil co-op and sorted documents to renew a PTL,* faffing to print a profile pic (needlessly, as it turned out). During a cold night, loud machinery disturbed me and condensation coated the windows Wednesday. I put the heating on for the first time in months, hoovered discarded cobwebs and spider skins and exchanged a string of texts with Walking Friend, agreeing to meet in the library before free curry. Then Phil messed with the hoover, claiming I’d missed a cobweb, then the Ocado driver rang to say he’d be early. Head spinning, I managed a few notes before the jolly Geordie arrived. Phil was asked to work earlier for a colleague’s GP appointment (how did she get that?) Soon after going, he phoned saying it was next week. “Shall I come home or sit in the sun? It’s nice out.” “Just chill then.” Also wanting sunshine, I took chilli plants out to repot but defeated by entangled roots, gave up, and went to town.

Infantile graffiti covered the squat’s boarded-up windows. The Ice Cream rep didn’t turn up in court next day, so the anarchists weren’t evicted. In the library, I was told to renew my PTL online. “Where are the collection points?” “Not sure. Do you need an orange dot?” “Yes.” “I’ll look in the drawer.” The librarian kindly made the pass for me (minus photo after the palaver) I chose a book and returned to the desk to find I was de-registered. Re-registering took longer than getting the pass! Meanwhile, Walking Friend arrived. We discussed Scarborough and what to expect from free curry night. Seeing nobody at the front of the chapel, she suggested we go to the side entrance where a woman I recognised from Vegan Friend’s pre-covid party greeted us. Walking Friend uneasy accepting charity, I searched for my mates to put her at ease but saw no sign of them. Three lovely people took our order, then repeatedly apologised for the wait. The room’s buzz Initially enjoyable, as it filled up, the noise made me light-headed and fatigued (not helped by a missed siesta). Chaotic and too many helpers, I ditched the idea of volunteering in future. We made for the exit, told an acquaintance to watch out for cardamoms and heard someone ask if there were containers for the cake. “Cake!” we cried in unison. The door-greeter opened a side door for easy access to the cake table where there was also a donation tin. Inviting her in, I assured my friend I could cope with a cuppa and cake despite tiredness. We nattered some and I gave her the plant cutting before she wended home via the hidden path before dark. Finding her scrunchie on the bathroom floor, I thought I’d better wash it.

Stunned by another long sleep Thursday, I ignored my woes for a walk and lunch at the Hilltop Village, agreeing with a friend en route, on the awful state of the country and the joys of life on a stunning autumn day (see Cool Placesⁱⁱⁱ). In a bright night sky, Neptune and Pluto vied for attention with a glowing orange Jupiter (at the nearest point to Earth for 59 years). Plagued by backache, I needed the meditation soundtrack to aid sleep, then got woken in Friday’s early hours by Phil getting up and a racket outside. Knowing the pretty but yellow watery dawn presaged a wet, grey day, I dug out a parka before venturing out. The co-op quiet again, my namesake asked was I going walking? “Not in that! But it’s warmer out than in the house without heating.” I agreed we’d need it sometimes to prevent mould and burst pipes.

Concluding coronavirus killed an A&E worker, a coroner was flummoxed that only staff on red wards got face-masks in May 2020. According to Zoe Health Studies’ Tim Spector, hospital admissions were up 37% on the previous week, the highest since 19^th August. A 7% rise in fatal road crashes in 2021 was blamed on lockdown easing. Trickle-down economics a pile of poo and markets jittery, the pound fell further against the dollar and OBR forecasts hinted at U-turns. They promised an economic forecast by 7^th October but after Trussed-Up joined Kwasi in meeting them, she said it wouldn’t be made public ‘til 23^rd November when they unveiled further plans. Lenders stopped offering low-cost mortgages.

As footage of her saying Brits needed more graft was unearthed, Rayner told conference the PM didn’t care about working people and we were at a crossroads akin to 1997. Labour Left Internationalists called singing God Save the King a ‘doubling-down on monarchism’, ‘almost comic’. Ed Millipede mocked Rees-Moggy’s ‘energy policy for the 1820s’. BBC tips to save money included cooking with a microwave rather than an iron! (sic) Online searches for ‘energy bill help’ the highest ever and ‘food banks near me’ up 250%, Jon Ashworth pledged labour would freeze prices, paid for by windfall taxes. The BOE stepped in to buy UK gilt bonds, leading to an immediate fall in long-date yields and lower public borrowing rates. Was it enough to prevent a Northern Rock-style run on pensions? Should I have cashed mine in? Former gov Mark Carney said Kwasi’s ‘partial budget’ was at cross-purposes with the bank. Referring to ‘ministry of the talentless’, witty Rayner said: “Liz Truss has even crashed the pork market. Now. That. Is. A. disgrace. You’d think snouts in the trough was the one thing they could manage.” MPs demanding urgent recall of parliament to face questions on running the economy down, Trussed-Up did a round of car-crash local radio interviews to be flummoxed by simple questions, witter about freezing energy costs and blame Vlod and the world for turbulence. WTF! Was she just thick or dropped on her head as a baby? Rayner quipped she’d: “finally broken her long painful silence with a series of short painful silences.” A YouGov poll put labour 33 points ahead. Gammons still thought we should give her a chance. Government ignoring demands for a 10% pay rise, at least £15 per hour and not cutting 91,000 jobs, Mark Serwotka said the PCSU had no choice but to ballot 20,000 civil servants. Sales up 18.7% in the last quarter, Aldi, now the UKs 4^th biggest supermarket, pledged to put people before profits and build 16 new stores. Turning down public money to keep it open, Peel Group would wind down Robin Hood airport from 31^st October. 32 Wetherspoons pubs including Halifax would shut. How’s Brexit working out, Tim?

A complexity of issues culminated in large-scale disorder in Leicester mainly involving young Asian men. One person convicted, cops said further arrests could go on for months. SML put the strife down to tensions between Sikhs and Muslims, started by a football match in August. Others blamed fundamentalists from outside the city stirring it. New HO minister Swellen told police to do their jobs properly.

Helped by blast-from-the-past Berlusconi, far-right Giorgia Meloni (aka Molly Malone) was set to become Italian PM. Amid covid restrictions and geopolitical tensions, Apple switched manufacture of the iPhone 14 from China to India. Russian gas pipeline leaks made bubbles in the Baltic Sea near the Danish island of Bornholm. Sabotage was suspected. At a signing ceremony to incorporate 4 eastern regions of Ukraine into Russia**, a concert for an invited audience in Red Square drowned out the international outcry. NASA slammed a min-fridge-sized spacecraft into asteroid Didymos-Dimorphos. DART successfully hit it off course, astronomers spotted increased brightness, but it’d be weeks ‘till we knew if the space rocks’ orbit was shortened. Scarborough planned to a centre of excellence for cyber-security – obviously building on the legacy of GCHQ Scarborough which we learnt about on our visit.

Queenie’s death certificate confirmed the cause as old age and the time as 3.10 p.m. Phil was right! Michelle Pfeiffer was heartbroken by the passing of Coolio, of Gangstas Paradise fame. The majority of Northern Ireland residents Catholic for the first time ever, a referendum on a united Ireland was probable. The Orangemen didn’t factor in Catholics breeding like rabbits when they rigged the borders, did they!

Notes

* Passport to Leisure

**Donetsk, Luhansk, Kherson and Zaporizhzhia

References:

i. Ovo’s 10-point plan: https://www.ovoenergy.com/ovo-newsroom/press-releases/2022/september/ten-point-plan

ii. My Cool Places 2 blog: https://wordpress.com/posts/hepdenerose2.wordpress.com

iii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/

Part 102 – Happy Anniversary?

“The question for us now is to be or not to be… now I can give you a definitive answer. It’s definitely yes, to be” (Volodymry Zelensky)

Years And Years

Getting off to an iffy start, there was much to do before our trip the first weekend of March. Assailed by a cold wind despite the sunshine on the way to the station, I noted trees felled by recent storms and strange amber leaking from stumps in the park. Collecting train tickets, I found a seat reservation in the machine and handed it to the booking office. Whoever left it behind wouldn’t be happy on the day of 3.9% train fare hikes, the biggest for 9 years. The Bus Recovery Grant was extended to October in what the DoT called ‘the final tranche of pandemic-related support to operators’. As the March 1^st marked the start of meteorological spring, St. David’s’ day and Shrove Tuesday, we celebrated the latter with a variation on Mexican pancakes. Butternut squash was a great addition even with the extra cooking.

A scratchy throat overnight, I was tempted to stay abed Wednesday but didn’t. I posted the last journal entry before a break, packed a case and opened the top bedroom cupboard searching for a bag when the curtain pole clattered to the floor! At least it didn’t land on my head this time. Lacking the energy to get cross, I exclaimed in mild annoyance. Phil agreed the stupid changeable weather was to blame and allowed more time for new plaster to dry before reinstalling the pole, temporarily pinning the curtain up.

Ukrainian Ambassador to the UK Vadym Prystaiko got a standing ovation from MPs at PMQs. Applause not normally allowed in the commons, Lindsay Hoyle made an exception for ‘his excellency’. Ukraine ambassador to the USA, Oksana Markarova guested at the State of the Union address, where Uncle Joe said Putin had ‘no idea what’s coming’, but republicans whinged the latest sanctions were too little too late.

Thursday, I texted The Researcher with thanks for the coffee and ideas for exhibition venues, deleted a pile of dross e-mails and booked places on a free workshop (part of the arts festival) before shopping. In nasty grey drizzle, red water flowed downstream and sand edged the road – was there flooding? A ruddy-faced driver testily informed me the pavement was on the other side. I shouted back: “Thanks Mr. Bleeding Obvious!” Phil later said I should’ve yelled ‘eff off, gammon!’ The market crap, I got a few items in the convenience store and walked back on the main road, tricky with barriers on the pavement, and spotted a woman I knew from art classes. A fellow walker, she read my Valley Life articles and I suggested she might also like the workshop. She said maybe we’d meet for a walk one day but as we’d pledge to do that years ago, I didn’t hold my breath.

Giving into pressure, IOC banned Russian and Belarussian athletes from the Paralympics. The port of Kherson was the first Ukrainian city to fall to invading troops. A tank convoy edged towards Kyiv, Russian schoolkids got a lesson on why NATO was evil and Serge again threatened global nuclear war. Did someone say 1984? In the latest conflagration in the Bradford district, Dalton Mills, Keighley was destroyed.

Cloudy again Friday, at least it was dry. Going to the station, Phil’s case handle fell off. I pointed out it wasn’t zipped at the bottom to which he retorted that wasn’t his immediate problem. “It is if all your clothes fall out!” Glad we weren’t going to Chester as that train was cancelled, ours was on time for a scenic ride. The sun emerged as we approached The Fylde and stayed thus for most of Phil’s birthday weekend, which was a first for off-season in Blackpool (see Cool Places 2ⁱ).

Quite a struggle to be out of the apartment Monday, we just made it by checkout time. I paused in the garden to re-distribute weight in a heavy rucksack when the landlady appeared. Enquiring after our stay, I mentioned Phil’s birthday. “21 again?” she asked wryly. Back in our home town, it felt years since we last walked the canal, especially as changes were afoot at the lock. The house freezing and Phil hangry, we hurried to reheat Lancs pasties. I began unpacking (but didn’t finish till later in the week), took rubbish out, uploaded photos and rested. Metro not downloading, I suspected Northern Rail wi-fi had messed up the internet connection. Almost asleep on unbelievably achy legs, it took some time to get any sleep.

According to John Hopkins University, 6 million people worldwide had now died of Covid and many suffered from shrunken brains. Grey matter decreased by up to 2%, making complex tasks harder but training could help. Weekend promises of ceasefires unfulfilled, Russia continued to shell Ukrainian cities, deliberately killed civilians and announced so-called safe corridors to Russia and Belarus – were they having a laugh? Amidst what the UN refugee agency called ‘the fastest-growing refugee crisis in Europe since WW2’ (1 million so far), UK government rhetoric unsurprisingly proved to be a load of crap as no visas were available at Calais, leaving evacuees stuck in France. HMRC withdrew the winding up order so Liberty Steel stayed open, but the long-term future remained uncertain. The Doncaster Great Drain Robbery was solved when cops stopped a car full of manhole covers after a tip-off.

As I hadn’t worn a mask the whole weekend, I didn’t bother in the co-op Tuesday. It wasn’t very busy anyway. I saw an old art teacher who told me she had a new studio near the canal. Saying it was freezing, she advised waiting for warmer weather to pop in. On the way back, a quartet of geese sat on the street below. A Woman smoking a fag on her doorstep guessed they expected food.

Volodymyr Zelensky historically addressed The Commons via live video-link from Kyiv, quoting Shakespeare and paraphrasing Churchill. To his pleas, Boris reiterated they couldn’t impose a no-fly zone but sanctioned more Russian oligarchs including Abramovich a couple of days later. Chelsea FC in limbo, Phil uncharitably hoped they’d go bankrupt before the end of the season.

Slightly iffy on Wednesday, I stayed in to edit Blackpool photos, posted a haiga and watch PMQs. Keir asked about a U-turn on energy costs and windfall taxes, and others queried the number of Ukrainian refugees allowed into the UK – 1,000 was pathetic when other countries had accepted tens of thousands. Why did they insist on normal visa checks and put an extra processing centre in Lille of all places? We agreed Nasty Patel was not just evil but also incompetent. “Not for nothing is she called Pritti Hopeless!”

Decent sleep three nights running, I felt cheerier on Thursday until I remembered leaving an annoyingly slow laptop to update and waited years for it to spark up so I could write. Phil fixed the bedroom curtain pole. Plagued all day by a whiny crane wince, siesta time was even less effective than usual.

Previously unhit eastern and western Ukrainian cities were bombed as Antalya hosted the highest level ‘peace talks’ so far. Serge told a pack of lies and wouldn’t settle for anything less than total surrender. Reports of deliberate targeting of maternity and children’s hospitals and use of thermobaric bombs emerged. Heineken, Starbucks and Coca Cola ceased trading in Russia. Phil’s Shitterstock questions were all war-related with Ukrainians asking how to get cash and Russians asking how to pretend they weren’t Russian!

Friday was warm enough to ditch leggings under jeans for the first time of the year, but it didn’t last. I found a mislaid curtain ring in the bedroom so Phil took them down yet again! The co-op busy, I navigated round dithering gammons, sighed at gaps on shelves and gasped at the price of filters. But I did get £4 off groceries with a member’s offer.

Global Covid rates fell by 5% on the previous week and deaths by 8%. But they rose 46% in the Western Pacific. Overcome by omicron, Hong Kong had 150 deaths daily, prompting mass quarantine. Caused by the infectiousness of sub-variant B.A2, more mixing and waning boosters, ONS revealed a week-on-week rise for the first time since January across the UK. Highest in Wales at 1:13 people, Scotland had the most ever at 1:18. Up mainly in the over 55’s, hospital cases rose 9%. With no scientific justification to boost the healthy, WHO DG Tedros Adhamon bade rich countries send vaccine to Africa.

At the weekend, I baked banana cake, posted blogs and wrote a haiga. Roused by sparkling skies Sunday, I got ready for a walk, stepped outside and declared the wind too biting. The trellis had blown down again. Phil was fixing it when next-door-but-one told him Elderly neighbour had died. Obviously at ‘end of life’, at least her husband was prepared for it. Unwilling to disturb him, I posted a card through the letterbox and potted salvaged veg ends. Phil popped to the co-op, helped with some clearing up then abandoned me to sit on the kerb watching footie on his phone – Leeds won for a change.

Monday sunny with a delightful breeze, I hung washing on the line and headed out to see the woman next door burning paper in her garden. The smoke blew straight at my sheets. Phil joked she was destroying spy code. It turned out to be personal documents and I offered use of our shredder in future. She then waylaid me discussing the deceased neighbour and the war. Versions of events from her Polish relatives straying into conspiracy theory territory, I extricated myself. Walking Friend appeared behind me at the co-op till, visibly pained with neuralgia from vicious moorland wind. “Well, if you will go hiking in all weathers!“ We arranged to go for lunch Wednesday. Late afternoon, Phil took his camera to town but the decent light gone by then, he just went to the shop.

Over the weekend, Russia widened bombardment to Ukrainian cities previously considered safe. The UK government announced The Homes For Ukraine Sponsorship Scheme wherein you got £350 a month to host refugees. But you had to know them so they could get visas. Lisa Nandy likened the hair-brained plan to a dating app. “They’ll do anything apart from take action themselves! Utterly useless!“ I spluttered. Phil reckoned it was a ruse for Boris’ mansion-dwelling mates. Foisted on NGOs with no time to prepare or do proper checks, charities called it a shambles. The Refugee Council were concerned by red tape, resourcing and safeguarding issues. Nevertheless, 122,000 Brits had signed up by Thursday. Amid speculation of using oligarch’s empty properties, London Makhnovists squatted one in Belgravia owned by Oleg Deripaska. Russian TV editor Marina Ovsyannikova ran on set with signs reading ‘no war’ and ‘they’re lying to you’, risking 15 years jail. 44 migrants drowned crossing from West Africa to The Canaries in a dinghy.

No Celebrations

Walking long overdue, we left the house aimlessly on Tuesday, puzzled at weird shiny stuff round empty recycling bins and rescued a useful-looking grill-type device before going up the ancient cobbles to the upland village and down through woodland, spotting several spring wildflowers in the shape of celandine, snowdrops from which an early bee grazed, and curious larch blooms (see Cool Placesⁱⁱ).

Compulsory jabs for care home workers in England were scrapped and Sturgeon announced Scottish restrictions would go as planned 21^st March, except face-coverings. In a show of support not endorsed by the EU, Polish, Czech and Slovenian leaders travelled by train to Ukraine.

Preparing for lunch out with Walking Friend Wednesday, she made me jump knocking as my back was turned. Too chilly and damp to sit outside the tearooms, we occupied an indoor table close to the service shelf. I flinched every time staff clattered crockery. Over mini-brekkie selections, we discussed the street art and starlings of Blackpool, her recent walks, and The Poet’s 75^th birthday which I’d missed due to illness. Debating my recent mask-ditching while the Scots decided to keep them, BA.2 was on the rise and latest research suggested waning protection from jabs, I rationalised that I rarely went to pubs and never to crowded places. I nipped in the sweet shop for cough drops and a chuckle over falling asleep at work (a labour lord was scolded for snoozing during a debate). We perused a new display in the Town Hall, learning about a flood plain which preceded the town centre – that explained a lot. In Boots, I managed to pick up conditioner instead of shampoo – why did they make the packaging nigh-identical? Weary and sodden, I trudged home. In the evening, I re-arranged the Manchester trip, placed an Ocado order and donated to DEC for Ukraine. That night, a whirring mind and a bright almost-full Worm Moon hampered sleep. I eventually dropped off using the meditation soundtrack and woke in early grey gloam with achy arms.

Russia bombed the historic theatre in Mariupol. Of 1,300 civilians sheltering in the basement, 300 were subsequently found dead. Putin ranted about ‘unpatriotic’ Russians who lived abroad chomping foie-gras, calling them scum and traitors. Did that include his daughter with her London mansion? After 6 years imprisonment, Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe and two others returned from Iran. The government had finally paid the tank debt. Why didn’t they do it years ago?

Exhausted and heavy-headed from lack of sleep, I forced myself up Thursday. Watching news, Phil commented emotive words concerning the war were nauseating. I replied it caused me deep-down sadness and considered taking in a refugee but we agreed it wasn’t feasible; charity donations would have to do. As I hung washing on the line, the neighbour from the end toddled past on sticks, making progress after a hip operation. As a shower descended, she advised leaving the laundry out while I went to the market. On my return, Phil was heading for Leeds.

Three weeks since all restrictions were lifted, covid infections rose by 68% in our region within a week. Leeds Prof Mark Harris said ditching masks was premature and when free testing ended, we’d have no way of tracking the virus. Andrew Lee of Sheffield wasn’t unduly concerned about BA.2; although more infectious, deaths stayed low. Meanwhile, New Zealand would admit jabbed Aussies from 12^th April followed by travellers from other visa-waiving countries 1^st May. BoE raised the interest rate to .75% and P&O sacked 800 staff via zoom, replacing them with agency workers. Dubai owner DP World said they’d lost £100 million during the pandemic (even after tons of government money for furlough) and the ferry company wasn’t viable in its current state. As armed guards came to escort them off ships, seafarers on the Pride of Hull mutinied. The RMT and MPs decried the action and government said they’d look into its legality – surely they knew it was illegal! Ed Millipede attended weekend demos and Mick Lynch claimed foreign agency workers got a derisory £1.81 per hour. It took 10 minutes for Ben Wally to realise a call purportedly from the Ukrainian PM, was actually Russian spies – what a doofus!

On QT, Ukrainian MP Lesia Vasylenko was very civil about the lack of military help, thanked the British public for their support and requested we stop buying goods from companies still operating in Russia, including M&S. I considered amending my Ocado order but didn’t get round to it. Lord Frosty Gammon complained to Newscast that namby-pamby liberals rendered decision-making difficult. He didn’t mention the Festival of Brexit, which was apparently underway all over the place. He patently saw no reason to celebrate.

After another bright night complete with a high moon, frosty roofs sparkled in sunshine Friday morning. Phil said the ‘Pageant Master’ on BBC Breakfast sounded more like a fantasy film character than organiser of the queen’s anniversary celebrations. In the co-op, I found bacon in the corner where pizzas used to live – had it been there all along? Shocked at the cost of baccy, I asked at the kiosk if I’d missed the budget. The cashier replied the prices changed weekly. I’d never heard that before! At least I had another £4 coupon towards the groceries. Phil came to help carry and giggle at a gaggle of geese squatting on the street below. A friend’s mum soaking up rays outside her house reckoned they picked at moss between the cobbles rather than waiting to be fed.

ONS figures showed 1:20 Brits had covid week ending 12^th March. 1:14 in Scotland, they had the most hospitalisations ever, but Sturgeon went ahead relaxing measures from Monday. All remaining covid travel restrictions were scrapped from 4.00 a.m. UK-wide, with contingencies for ‘extreme circumstances’. Lviv, the main exit point for refugees and entry point for aid, was pounded. So on the anniversary of annexing Crimea, which Putin celebrated with a rally, there was no such thing as a Ukrainian ‘safe city’. RT’s UK licence was revoked.

Attempting to prevent Saturday hangovers, I’d bought low alcohol wine but wobbly and phlegmy on Saturday, I blamed the histamines in the sickly sweet concoction. Phil reckoned it’d be nice in summer with ice. I saw a notice on Elderly Neighbour’s Facebook page. The funeral would be at a faraway crem. Sunny but windy, Phil said he was going for a walk but I didn’t feel up to it after being out twice during the week leading to severe tiredness. I washed the bedroom curtains we’d taken down last month and hung them on the line, disposed of a dead rubber plant and used the pot for an oversized money plant. The job was prolonged, partly by ridding the soil of weird green stuff and by the whipping wind. I crouched in a sunny corner when a huge gust blew a pile of dead leaves in my face! The recent widower thanked me for the card as he walked his dog past. I said it was impractical for us to go to the crem but we’d go to the more local wake. Before putting the pot back on the hearth, I decided to clean it. Taking all afternoon, it left me slightly out of breath which I suppose was good and with backache, which wasn’t. Phil went to look for rooks. He found none in the park busy with a football match or in town rammed with drinkers, tourists and a window shopper commenting: “it’s like that programme Money for Nothing!”

A bit groggy on the equinox, it wasn’t as bad as on the low-alcohol plonk. Phil unusually drank water. “It must be summer!” “No, but it is officially spring.” Tempted by the sun, I took photos of delicate flowers in our window box before we headed for the park, where families ate ice cream and teenagers picnicked. Resplendent blossom marked the start of a blooming good walk, past creamy daffodils near the station, magnificent blackthorn on the country lane and showy garden shrubs. In the next village’s refurbished co-op, we got 3 for 2 snack foods. The cashier asked did we need to pay for fuel? I should have said did we look like we had a car? Famished, we hurried up to the canal to sit on a bench overlooking the lock and stuff grub in our gobs before dogs mugged us for it. Returning home, we detoured off the towpath to explore a path over a small bridge and wondered at totems to Odin at the moorings (see Cool Placesⁱⁱ).

I went up early to apply massage oil to a stiff, painful shoulder. Sympathising, Phil rubbed it far too hard. The now waning moon appeared like a squishy orange in the inky cold night sky.

Mariupol a wreck, 10 million Ukrainians had fled the country, and there were claims some were forced into gulags. Boris lambasted for comparing their stand against Putin to Britons voting for Brexit, Rishi Rich distanced himself: “people can make up their own minds”, he said on Sunday Morning (not for the first time). He proceeded to mouth a pile of platitudes on fuel prices and the cost of living.

A hard frost at first, Monday warmed up slightly then turned cold and dull in the afternoon – so much for the lovely spring weather! Getting back to spring cleaning, I tackled the ‘kitchen island’, cluttered with empty jars and spider crap. I asked Phil to help scrubbing the back wall. He said he was busy. “I know. I’m only asking for a bit of help.” He obliged later. During breaks from the tedious chore, I posted a haiga, hung washing out, got rid of rubbish, booked train tickets for Manchester, messaged our friend the details and worked on blogs but had to give up with head fug.

Covid cases still rising, spring boosters were offered to over 75’s and vulnerable over 12’s. Prof Kirby nicked my line from October 2020 ‘I predict a riot’ if lockdowns were re-imposed (see part 32).

Death And Taxes

Frost-free and hazily bright on Tuesday, a bee buzzed in through the window crack in the bedroom. Phil shooed the persistent blighter out. As I urged him to bathe, he replied: “I will when I’ve done this work.” “You’re always working.” “I was very busy yesterday.” “You have to wash and eat!” Off to collect tickets again, I was frustrated by traffic on the main road, took short-cuts to the park and zigzagged to avoid loiterers. At the station, I asked a member of staff about swipe machines – not for oyster-style cards as hoped, but flexi season tickets. I whizzed round the co-op and asked my namesake at the till for a replacement ‘bag for life’ to be told they didn’t do them anymore. Instead, she gave me a compostable one, which ought to be free. “You should be glad we’re not doing plastic.” “Yes, but they’re reusable, not single-use. And why do we have to pay for bags that aren’t plastic?” What a swizz!

As the fall in covid deaths stalled, I read about Deltacron. The hybrid of Delta and Omicron arose in France mid-February, and there were 60 logged cases so far, spreading to Holland, Denmark, the US and UK. Cases in the Latter two varied from European mainland versions, suggesting multiple re-combinations.

Another greyly polluted day in the valley, I woke later on Wednesday and briefly felt the benefit of extra sleep. On finding a net bag of damp socks, I railed at never-ending chores. Downstairs, I had another fit at buried Ocado bags, dug them out before the delivery arrived and watched PMQs followed by Rishi’s spring statement. Sacked P&O workers were belatedly offered severance pay, which would entail losing rights. Boris reported they possibly acted illegally and could face fines of hundreds of millions. Keir said if he wasn’t all mouth and no trousers, he’d do something about it. Quite! There was no ‘possibly’ about it! Inflation for February at 6.2%, and National Insurance going up in April, Rishi Rich announced the threshold would rise by £3,000 from July and basic rate Income tax would fall 1% in 2024. He took 5% off fuel duty and abolished VAT on insulation, heat pumps and solar panels and green energy company tax. The household support fund for Local Authorities was doubled. Billed as a giveaway, Paul Johnson of IFS said it only benefited rich pensioners and landlords. There was certainly nothing in it for us. Tax increases disguised as cuts, Rachel Reeves likened it to Alice in Sunak-land. And what did he mean the ‘work starts today’? they’d had 12 years! The Bumbler later hinted at more help with the cost of living in autumn.

Cleaning the bedroom I found more dust lumps on the bedroom. Phil reckoned they went up in warmth and descended in cold. So it was bits of us! Further hampered by assorted stuff falling on the floor, I got exhausted and narky. After lunch, I tried writing but head befuddled, speculated on going outside. As it became even hazier, I lost the will. I retired early for a bath which failed to help with sleep or an achy shoulder. Unable to still my mind, the meditation soundtrack sent me into intermittent slumber.

The second anniversary of the announcement of lockdown #1 was marked by a noontime minutes silence for over 188,00 UK deaths, and buildings turning yellow. Poland wanted a NATO peace-keeping force in Ukraine which Serge said was asking for war. Madeleine Albright died of cancer, aged 84.

Despite the lack of sleep, I was determined to make the overdue trip over to Manchester on Thursday. Unrecognisable and infested by students, it was a good job the main streets were in the same place! We had a lovely day involving culture, photography and meeting an old friend. Supping at her ‘local’, we caught up on news and experiences of covid. She became upset discussing deaths of close ones, for which I was sorry. Saying goodbye, I experienced the first hug with a friend in over 2 years! (see Cool Places 2ⁱ).

Having grazed on convenience food all day, I relished leftover bean salad for dinner. They didn’t seem to eat veg in Manchester! Exhausted, I tried to still my churning mind by concentrating on the hooting of an owl when the stupid generator started droning. The mediation soundtrack allowed a few fitful hours.

On QT, Mark Serwotka of PCS, said Rishi’s inadequate response showed he didn’t know, understand or care. Dom 2 Jollies called him an alien and the stupid photo-op wherein he borrowed a car and struggled to swipe a card, demonstrated he was out of touch. Lemon-sucking Demon Hinds tried to defend the awful government. Lisa Nandy yelled that not a word he said was true. An audience member echoed my question on why refugees from different countries were tret differently? Why not sponsor an Afghan? “Cos they don’t pick cabbages!” Phil answered. P&O boss Paul Hebbletwit admitted they broke the law not consulting as unions wouldn’t have sanctioned the fire and re-hire but claimed Grant Shats knew of the plot in November. Mark insisted the practice allowed on the statute books by the tories, stop now. Later, Shats and Boris called for Hebbletwit to go and pledged to close the loophole in the law so companies operating from UK ports paid minimum wages. Ships subsequently seized at, Shats belatedly wrote to P&O demanding they reinstate sacked workers. Hebbletwit refused.

Rudely woken by canal engineering works early Friday, I felt unrested and drifted off frequently during the day. Decorating Neighbour’s car idled outside the house. He told me the battery was crap. “If I die of pollution I’ll know who to run to!” I joked. When I came back from the co-op, we chatted while he washed the car. Observing I looked tired, I related our trip to Manchester. He’d not been since the Arndale Centre was built! A young woman stuffed flyers in letterboxes, informing us of a nearby shoot for Happy Valley 3. We shared sightings of Sarah Lancashire and locations of previous series. “Never mind that. When The Gallows Pole comes out, it’ll be rammed” I warned.

After the Finnish PM said Boris lived in ‘Brexit la-la land’, a clip emerged of The Bumbler at a Brussels meeting isolated from other leaders. NATO members pledged troops to reinforce eastern flanks, but not to do more within Ukraine. EU figures showed 3.5 million refugees, 2.2 million in Poland. Ukrainian ombudsman Ludmyla Denisova said 402,000 were taken to Russia against their will. Not disputing the figure, the Kremlin claimed they were ‘relocated’ from Donetsk and Luhansk.

Waking early Saturday, Phil was discombobulated as the clocks had already gone forward in his head. Covid rates rising across the UK except Northern Ireland, Dr. Chris told BBC Breakfast there were less hospitalisations and fatalities because of herd immunity. Protection waned but vaccines still guarded against severe illness. I felt vindicated on my mask-ditching. I continued cleaning outside to discover a metal plant stand overgrown with ivy which took ages to extricate. Phil came out to sit in a patch of sun, do tiny work, sweep up and spot wild garlic sprouting in a pot.

Using this as a gauge, I ignored Sunday wobbliness to forage. After a hard climb up, we selected sparingly from the early growth. The clough now popular with guardian families, a small child sniffed the fragrant leaves and rubbed his tummy but his parents vetoed picking. Coming back down, small yappy dogs switched from paddling in the stream to harassing us. As I froze with fright, the owner said: “They’re alright.” “Well, I’m not!” I retorted. He obligingly brought them to heel so we could continue unimpeded.

On the anniversary of the enforcement of lockdown #1, 200,000 schoolkids were absent with covid. Taking belated offence at a GI Jane joke levelled at his wife, Will Smith hit Oscar host Chris Rock. As the academy dithered about whether to withdrawal his award, Smith gave a tearful acceptance speech, went partying and made a half-hearted apology. Headlining for days, the stunt overshadowed celebrations of diversity.

Oversleeping Monday, we were fuddled and slightly ailing. I complained of dusty layers in the box room, prompting Phil to hoover. I tackled life admin and small chores, getting distracted rearranging pots on the garden wall and discovered new flowers on the tiny plants from Christmas. Curlews wheeled in the early dawn light Tuesday. I worked on the journal and went on errands with mixed results.

Dodging marauding schoolgirls, I got nowt in the convenience store or Boots but enjoyed a good whinge in the sweet shop at soaring prices and found lampshades in the homeless charity shop. That evening, we spent ages trying to find The Ipcress File on ITV hub. After convoluted sign-in and searching, it couldn’t be found on the smart TV, even though it appeared on the website. We gave up and watched Netflix instead.

After extending Partygate interviews to 100 more revellers, The Met issued 20 fines. More to follow, Number 10 maintained Boris didn’t mislead parliament saying no rules were broken, even though this proved they were. Rayner railed: “After over 2 months of police time, 12 parties investigated and over 100 people questioned under caution…Downing Street has been found guilty of breaking the law.” The next day, Keir asked Boris at PMQs if he should resign and Rabid Raab suggested the law had clearly been breached but that didn’t mean his boss lied. A year since they began painting hearts on the wall, Hannah Brady of Covid-19 Bereaved Families accused the PM’s team of ‘regularly and blatantly’ breaking “the same rules that families across the country stuck with even when they suffered.” Peace talks resumed in Turkey. Abramovich again attended the negotiations. As it emerged he’d fallen ill at earlier meetings along with two Ukrainians, poison in the drinking water was blamed. Losing patience with NATO, Vlod hinted at pledging Ukraine’s neutrality in exchange for security guarantees and discussions over Crimea, while Russia said they were scaling back operations around Kyiv and Chernihiv to concentrate on Russian-speaking areas. Some saw glimmers of hope but others just more lies. Saudis blamed Houthi rebels for ‘jittery’ oil supplies.

Wednesday, Elder Sis got her MBE at the palace. The photos she sent blurry, better versions appeared later on Facebook. I got my brother to re-add me to the family group, even though I hated WhatsApp. Preparing for Elderly Neighbour’s wake, it started sleeting. “I’m not walking in that!” We waited at a freezing cold bus stop, alarmed at an odd kid doing strange moves under the shelter. I tracked the journey on google maps but the driver went so fast, I lost track and overshot the cricket club. Flakes blowing in our faces, we walked briskly along the road, through a little gate and across the pitch. We knew nobody in the clubhouse except The Widower. Where were all the other neighbours? We grazed the buffet, looked at photos and hovered to say hello. The Widower claimed not to know half the people either. Short speeches and a note from Adrian Lester followed. Coincidentally at the palace too, I wondered if he met Sis. The ice broken, we chatted to grandkids and a couple from Manchester. Describing our recent visit, they said they never went into the city centre. The snow seemed to stop and as a bus sailed past meaning a half hour wait for the next, we took shank’s pony using a shortcut to the canal we’d seen a woman use. Over a funny stone bridge spanning the river, moorings were bedecked with flowers and a mixed duck paddled: “Mandallard!” we declared. It soon resumed snowing so we rushed on, sheltering briefly under bridges.

Pat Valance told the S&T committee the current covid peak might be ending but with more deaths and the threat of potentially more severe variants, the road ahead was ‘lumpy and bumpy’. NAO reported £3.2 billion spent on unsuitable PPE and £700 million on storing it. Meg Hillier urged government to “get a grip.” Credit card debt rose to £1.5 billion in February. Forecourts failing to pass on fuel duty reductions, 10,000 consumers signed a petition to cut it by 40%. Fizzog uncovered at Prince Philip’s memorial service, Sturgeon was accused of hypocrisy as she extended mask-wearing in Scotland until Easter.

A snowy scene Thursday prompted Christmas jingles. Facing the window doing exercise, the sky visibly changed from grey to blue. The snow melted by noon but followed by more wintry showers, I submitted to the cold and put the heating on advance before the increased price cap kicked in.

The day before mass free testing ended in England, YouGov found 13% had never taken one and 45% still wore masks – more like 10% by my estimation. 179,000 schoolkids, 9% of teachers and 3% of hospital staff had covid, the most since January. Hospital cases the highest since February, numbers on ventilators stayed low. GDP grew 1.3% in the last quarter of 2021. Gas websites crashed as customer tried to input metre readings before the disgusting hike in the price cap and standing charges – what did that have to do with the price of fuel? Putin threatened to cut supplies of unfriendly countries who didn’t pay in roubles. Hartley-Brewer was incredibly the only one who made sense of the war or gas prices on QT. On the last Newscast before she changed jobs, Laura K interviewed Rishi Rich. Claiming: “I know it’s tough yah!” he said it wasn’t acceptable to target his wife whose dad owned Infosys which allegedly invested in Russia, but joked: ”At least I didn’t get up and slap anybody.” No mention that Akshata Murthy didn’t pay UK tax on her earnings! It was about time we celebrated the anniversary of the 1990 poll tax riots with another one!

References:

i. My Cool Places 2 blog: https://wordpress.com/posts/hepdenerose2.wordpress.com

ii. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com

iii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/

Part 101 – End of An Era?

“Under the Tories, a sewer of dirty Russian money has been allowed to flow under London for years.” (Ian Blackford)

Open and Shut

The howling wind waking me repeatedly in the early hours Monday, I dropped off again until late. After brekkie, I expunged a nasty lump of debris festooning the hearth, did small chores and sparked the laptop up only for the dam thing to shut down! I fumed at the delay until I could post blogs; the journal took until afternoon. Phil offered to dispose of rubbish but as he groaned at a wind-felled trellis, I went to help and retrieved the bin lid from the bottom of the steps before going to the co-op. At the kiosk, I waited impatiently for an elderly woman to pack her bag. My mate laughed when I threw my stuff back in the wheeled basket. I said it was much easier to sort afterwards and allowed someone else access to the till. Was that a bit passive-aggressive? Exhausted by a whirlwind of tasks, I flopped on the sofa then on the bed.

Off last week due to hilariously falling off his penny farthing, Jeremy Vine still sported a black eye. Marina Purkiss argued with James Gammon over Brexit and orders to return to offices saying it only profited property magnates. And coffee shops! The queen had covid. Suffering ‘minor cold symptoms’, she isolated at Windsor and continued ‘light duties’. Undeterred by the news, Boris told MPs it was time to ‘live with covid’ and treat it like ‘flu. Mandated self-isolation of the infected would end Thursday in England along with payments, obligations to tell employers, and contact-tracing. Changes to SSP and ESA would end 24^th March. Mass free testing to be scaled back from 1^st April, except for the vulnerable, they’d also get another booster in spring. Referring to a funding disagreement between The Goblin and Rishi Rich leading to a delayed cabinet meeting, Keir lambasted ‘more chaos and disarray’: “he thinks living with covid means ignoring it…If you’re 2-1 up with 10 minutes to go, you don’t sub off one of your best defenders.” Ian Blackford railed it was ‘bereft of science’. On Boris asking people to exercise personal responsibility and still isolate for 5 days, Wes Streeting chuckled: “give me a break!” Witless and Vallance used a press conference to warn coronavirus wasn’t over but Boris denied a division. Linda Bauld said while hospitalisations and deaths were down, community infection remained high, so it wasn’t: ‘a free ticket to not worry at all’. On Newsnight, Prof. Openshaw counselled ‘don’t throw your mask away’ and agreed with Witless on caution, saying infection surveys were vital early warning systems of new variants which might be more dangerous.

In the wake of Storm Franklin, floodwater inundated Tadcaster streets and Doncaster rail station, destroyed defences under construction on the River Aire and cracked a bridge in Boston Spa meaning a 7 mile trip to get across town. Most providers advising against travel, all Northern trains were suspended. Saying last week names couldn’t be released, PCs Jonathan Cobban and William Neville and ex-cop Joel Borders were unveiled as the 3 Met staff who’d shared nasty WhatsApp chat with Wayne Couzens.

Opening the curtains Tuesday, the pole promptly fell on my head. Yelling in shock, I sat down with water until a hot flush passed. Trains still a mess and 80 flood warnings in place, I postponed a planned trip to Manchester, sent a submission to Valley Lifeⁱ, and posted the date 22.02.22. on Facebook. Walking Friend added 22.02.2022. How did I miss the palindrome? Resuming the kitchen spring clean, I discovered a pile of jars clarted in cobwebs and freaked out when a spider skin fell on my hand. Unable to rest on the bed as Phil fixed the curtain pole, I relaxed on the sofa with a book when he declared he was going on a quest for marge. “Okay, but leave me in peace!” I lay down for breathing exercises. He apologised for interrupting m again on his return but I’d given up by then. Though sunny during a changeable day, it was too cold to properly relax. And I appreciated that he’d rang his Leeds mate while out so her dulcet tones didn’t disturb me further! As he’d taken both bedroom curtains down, I put them in the wash and used the spares.

The backlash against the ‘living with covid’ plan continued. Schools predicted more cases and further classroom disruption, devolved administrations lambasted the end of financial support, and the BMA complained of failure ‘to protect those at highest risk’. Drugs lauded as the future for tackling outbreaks, Adam Finn thought annual jabs alongside flu likely. Calling ending routine testing in England ‘inexcusable negligence’, Sturgeon announced it would stay in Scotland – albeit scaled down. The Scottish covid pass would be scrapped 28^th Feb. followed by other measures 21^st March.

Lethargic on Wednesday, I slowly opened curtains to a watery sun. Phil made porridge to take off the morning’s chill. After cleaning a bitty living room, I saw the laptop had updated and shutdown overnight and waited impatiently to be able to type. I set the DVR to record PMQs and went out, just as the weather turned showery. Spotting Welsh Friends’ step-daughter pushing a pram, I introduced myself at long last to be acquainted with the baby. Greeting her partner on the next street down, I was unsure if he recognised me. At the far end of town, I got nowt in the crap Boots. Signs unsurprisingly revealed a shutdown. More luck in the charity shops, I spent ages rifling through a box of old postcards. Lunchtime by then, I hurried along the riverside to the other Boots which also looked about to close due to a lack of stock during reorganisation. Having propped up the felled trellis on the way out and on the way back, I became exacerbated. The woman next door sympathised. Trying to affix it later, Phil gave up in the stiff wind.

The recording of PMQs shocking quality, at least I could fast-forward boring bits. Focussed on sanctions against Russia, Keir asked why Boris didn’t immediately impose the full package, seeing as there’d already been an invasion. The Bumbler responded it was vital that after the first barrage, they worked in lockstep with allies to squeeze Vlad, sanctions would be escalated, and he was grateful for the opposition’s support thus far. On defeating the campaign of lies and misinformation, he said Dreadful Doris had asked Ofcom to review RT licences but the decision was up to them. Sturgeon led calls for Alex Salmon to quit his show on the Russian channel. As Boris reverted to incomprehensible gibberish, Keir pointed out political donations were allowed from anywhere to which Boris wittered about labour links to the Chinese communist party. Refusing to be deflected, Keir insisted they stood united and not provide ‘homes for their loot’. Ian Blackford added ‘a sewer of dirty Russian money’ flowed under London. $20.8 billion amounted to corruption on an industrial scale, oligarchs with golden handshakes were welcomed and dosh had ‘found its way into tory coffers’. A block to stronger sanctions, he asked Boris if he’d finally commit to giving it up? Caroline Lucas put in that as foreign sec, Boris didn’t deny Russian interference in elections and asked why he turned a blind eye to disruption allegations? Margaret Hodge called the sanctions response a mess. Adamant they’d impact the entire regime, Boris said there’d be a major move to stop their dollars coming into London. On other issues, Bradford MP Imran Hussain’s question on promoting an alleged perpetrator of Islamophobia was ruled inappropriate, Ian Byrne got the party line on tackling food poverty, and queries on support for Liberty Steel, private carers and the vulnerable amid the lifting of covid restrictions, were answered with drivelling platitudes. Asked on Daily Politics if 14 labour MPs who thought NATO the aggressor should be expelled, Luke Pollard replied they were ‘a broad church’ but committed to NATO.

Ignoring feeble knocks during siesta time, Phil answered to accept a parcel for next door. I lay awhile with my eyes shut, stitched a hole in the bedspread, and fumed at unwashed pots. Apparently distracted by putting tools away, Phil struggled to say what he meant. “Mixing your words and your tasks! There’s no hope!” I laughed.

£6.1 billion public debt interest in January, the PAC report revealed poor record-keeping and lack of transparency led to £15 billion lost in covid error and fraud. In a rare fit of praise later in the week, they called the vaccine roll-out a ‘real success’ and NAO said the £5.6 billion was ‘money well spent.’ In response to a letter from MET deputy commissioner Stephen House, the London mayor’s office denied lack of due process in getting rid of Dick. Flooding still affected areas of Worcestershire and Shropshire near the River Severn. With Ironbridge underwater, households evacuated and levels peaking in Bewdley, communities were urged to stay vigilant and there were clamours for permanent solutions. As Russia celebrated Day of the Fatherland in Rostov on Don (down the road from Sheffield!) Ukraine got more weapons and protections against cyber-attacks were stepped up. Ben Wally saying he’d gone ‘full Tonto’, Vlad stuck to his guns, telling Kyiv the only way out was to demilitarise and abandon their NATO ambitions.

A Call to Arms

Thursday, Phil changed the bedding while I bathed. He then lay abed with cushions and blankets askew. Irked, I chased him off. Putting sheets in the machine, I searched for a butterfly back from an earring that fell out in the bath and found a hairgrip. More fits ensued at stuff dangerously stacked in cupboards and the coal-hole. Ocado carrier bags trapped beneath the Christmas tree stand, freeing them was hampered by an ancient bulb taking several minutes to light up. We awaited the Ocado delivery and looked at changing weather through the window. There was a lot of it! Hail overnight, we got sleet, then sun, more hail and squally mixed hail/sleet showers. Renewed yellow warnings of wind, snow and lightning for Scotland and Northern Ireland, there was no thundersnow and reports disagreed on if it was Storm Gladys. I reviewed the proof from Valley Life and worked on the journal. The bedroom curtains the wrong way round, lack of overlap left a gap in the middle. Phil helped remedy the issue and affixed the decorative knob. Finishing the hoovering after lunch, I kept finding more dross, got tired, and rested. Cooking dinner, the oven door handle door came loose. Fed up with things going wrong in the stupid weather, we left more DIY for another day.

An Ipsos poll found people divided on whether it was the right time to relax restrictions but 61% didn’t support the decision to end free testing. Home Office figures showed a record 28,526 people crossed the English Channel in dinghies during 2021. Still ill with covid, the queen postponed virtual audiences. Would she make it to her jubilee party? Meanwhile, Prince Willy secretly visited MI6. Hours later, Vlad released a rambling pre-recorded statement. Claiming he aimed to stop the genocide of innocent people by Nazis, he sent troops over Ukrainian borders at 3.00 a.m. local time. As airbases were attacked, Ukraine said they shot 5 planes down, enlisted reservists into the regular army, and declared martial law encouraging citizens to take up arms and make Molotov cocktails. Sirens blasting, an exodus of Kyiv began. Woken in the night, Boris spoke to Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky, convened cobra and addressed the nation, saying they’d agreed a ‘massive package’ of sanctions with allies to ‘hobble the Russian economy’. No embargo yet on gas or Swift, money still flowed into Kremlin coffers. UN security council pleas to stop the aggression fell on deaf ears. No wonder seeing as it was chaired by a Ruskie. After summits involving the UK, US , EU and G7, Boris made a statement to the commons, uncommonly united in condemning the imperialist. RAF typhoons patrolled Polish and Romanian borders, Grant Shats instructed CAA to ensure airlines avoided Ukraine airspace, Aeroflot UK landings were banned, stock markets fell and oil prices rocketed. Vlad insisted they only targeted military assets but explosions were heard in Kyiv, Odesa and Kharkiv, where an apartment block was bombed and they took Chernobyl causing much alarm. Russian opponents of the aggression bravely held demos, 1,7000 were arrested and 150 officials wrote an open letter condemning the ‘atrocity’. Extensive coverage of the now real invasion made me depressed and fretful, leading to mediocre sleep.

The Darkest Hour

Clumpy noises annoyingly roused me Friday morning, created by a fat truck with flashing yellow lights crawling up the hillside. Making use of the forced early start, I took a rare trip to the co-op before coffee. Lovely and sunny out after the mixed weather, I greeted the Turkish barber cleaning his windows and wished I could get out before noon more often. Shopping Incident-free, bacon shelves were still bare. Coming back, I heard young mum in the community garden ask the toddler if he wanted to take something to the new house. “Have you got a new house?” Providing details she added: “Moving’s a nightmare with a toddler.” “I bet. He’ll be into everything now!” I sorted groceries, collapsed on the sofa with coffee, discussed nasty Russians with Phil and got scared at the very idea of going for a drink in case they put Novichok in my beer.

After a hasty lunch, I headed to town, dumped a bag of crap at the animal charity shop and ripped the box reaching up for cough drops in the sweet shop. He contritely said he should move it lower down. “As long as you don’t charge me for damage.” “Good idea!” he quipped. Trying both butchers, the first was temporarily shut and the second had no bacon. I whizzed round the flea market to banter and barter with dealers then returned to the first butchers for the elusive bacon. He teased he’d been stockpiling it. An awful pirate busker in the square, I retreated to the bridge for some quiet but it was insanely busy with traffic and pedestrians. I met The Researcher as arranged and suggested the town hall. A dementia and covid project display by a rival university provided food for thought and an interesting take on dark times. She kindly bought us coffee and cake In the café where I grabbed a scarce table. The terrace unusable due to the crappiest ice rink in the world, signs declared it open from 23^rd but they were still setting up! We discussed ideas for showcasing her project, further contributions to her blog and my plans to pause Corvus Diaries. War dominating the news, she was terrified and said it was the third day in her life she’d watched TV all day. The other two being the death of Diana and 9/11, I felt old! For our generation, it evoked the constant fear of nuclear war but I believed there was some hope: it might be the end of Vlad, ordinary Russians opposed invading their neighbours and mutiny was possible. Sharing personal stuff, we discovered a similar age gap between our parents and mutual publishing ambitions. Chairs being put atop tables signified closing time. A member of staff brought a doggy bag so I could take home the uneaten half of the gigantic cake slice. “That’s the first time I’ve been chucked out of the town hall!” We browsed the free library and laughed over West Country accents and a broken door before saying our goodbyes.

In plans for HE, DoE lowered the student loans threshold and extended the payment period so it’d be 40 years until debts were written off and graduates would pay more, for longer. A consultation on admission thresholds proposed minimum English & maths grades to access loans which government said would stop students enrolling on poor courses while critics said it disproportionately affected poor kids. Believing HE students should have a decent level of literacy, I wondered at the timing after effectively 2 years of on-off schooling during the pandemic.

Fierce fighting across Ukraine, Russian ‘operatives’ were in Kyiv by dawn and tanks in the northern suburb of Obolon. While NATO presence beefed up in Eastern Europe, EC foreign policy chief Josep Borrell intoned it was the darkest hour since WW2, the US and EU imposed more sanctions but still prevaricated over the toughest ones. Was it time for the iron curtain to be redrawn? Urging the Ukrainian military to surrender, Vlad said “we would find it easier to agree with you than with that gang of drug addicts and neo-Nazis who have holed up in Kyiv.” Jewish ex-comic turned president Vlod angrily dismissed the claims, said he was top of the Russian hit list and offered to negotiate on NATO ambitions. Serge said it was too late for that. A woman gave a Russian soldier sunflower seeds to put in his pocket so blooms would grow when he fell dead on her homeland soil, and crowds descended on rail stations aiming for Poland and Rumania. UEFA moved the champion’s league final from St. Petersburg to Paris and F1 cancelled the Sochi Grand Prix.

Metro featured an ace photo of a WW2 mural discovered renovating a house in Bispham. I suggested Phil ask to see it during an upcoming trip (see above).

Getting pizza from the freezer for dinner, I realised I’d disposed of cooking instructions. Phil said he’d come up with a mnemonic to remember timings but had forgotten it! Drinking too much wine, I blamed the added stress of war in our time. Phil interrupting film-viewing with rhetorical advice for Uncle Joe didn’t help!

After a crap night, Shed Boy noisily lobbed a van-load of trash in a skip early Saturday. I gave up trying to lie in and switched the telly on to discover Kyiv under attack from airstrikes, heavy gunfire and rockets. Reports of higher than expected Russian casualties, Ukrainian equipment was badly hit. 20,000 refugees arrived in Poland. Remaining citizens holed up in deep underground stations during the 13-hour curfew. Speaking from uninvaded streets, plucky Vlod scotched rumours of surrender. Demos took place across the UK. All very depressing, I avoided news for the rest of the day.

Making brekkie, my eyes went funny. Struggling to discern numbers on the kettle and microwave, my vision soon adjusted. Another symptom of excess, Phil explained wine over-relaxed the cells and recommended eye exercise. We discussed how unlike his condition, mine was temporary but it made me empathise and appreciate how quickly our brains adapted to make sense of the world. The SD card being arsy, I rescued a few photos and re-formatted it, worked on the journal, and pottered. Phil cut and dyed my hair. Really cold in the South Pole, I got scared of hypothermia. He also fixed the oven door, cleaned the bathroom and went to the shop, finding the twilight streets littered with drunks, just like the old days! Evening viewing included the third Oscar-nominated Netflix film so far this year. Phil often inventing modern operas, I said he should be inspired by Tick, Tick, Boom: “You literally CAN write a song about anything!”

Waking early Sunday with familiar symptoms, I sucked a pastille, slept fitfully ‘til 9, took Echinacea, wobbled down for a cuppa and got riled at a messy kitchen. Sulking on the bed, I told Phil I wasn’t well. “Is it the beer?” “1½ pints? Don’t be daft. It’s the usual sinus lark, probably due to sitting in a freezing kitchen with wet hair.” After his cooked brekkie, I considered going back to bed but stayed in the living room. Very sunny and warm despite early frost, I’d hoped to go for a walk. Obviously not up to it, I was fed up being ill again. I worked on the journal, finished a secret card and wrote a haigaⁱⁱ based on a photo from the previous weekend. Phil repaired a camera and went to the shop for more veg to accompany his austerity roast. Helping with prep, it took 40 minutes to peel and cube a bargainous butternut squash. It felt like a workout! I slumped back on the sofa and left him to it, getting impatient when it wasn’t ready at the appointed time. Finding the gravy tasteless, he insisted he’d used tons of mustard. I railed at undercooked parsnips then realised it was because of overfilling the oven with squash.

On Sunday Morning, ambassador to the UK Vadym Prystaiko talked of an international legion of fighters, and likened the invasion to 1918 when unable to take Kyiv, Bolsheviks took the second city Kharkiv, declared it the new capital then moved on Kyiv. Unconvinced the ‘special operation’ only took place in Donbas, 60% of Russians polled, opposed it and mums worried for their young conscript sons, forced to sign contracts so they could fight. With global protests, 4,000 Russians were reportedly detained for partaking and 1 million signed an anti-war petition. During the weekend curfew, Ex-boxing Kyiv mayor Vitali Klitschko said anyone outside was a saboteur. BP exited Rosneft while the EU shipped more weapons to The Ukraine, eased asylum processes, totally banned Russian planes from their airspace and froze them out of money markets. Unable to access overseas reserves, the rouble fell by 1/3^rd, leading to bank runs, and an interest rate hike to stop the currency collapsing. Cyber-attacks hit Ukrainian embassies and Russian media. Trussed-up Liz said the economic crime bill would stop the money flow into the UK and stupidly, that those heeding the call to arms had her support. Illegal (when it suited them), Ben Wally later contradicted her. A sombre day for football, Abramovich stepped back from Chelsea and Bielsa was sacked, ending an era at Leeds United.

Head drooping, I was determined to prevent debilitation, took a loaded hot lemon drink to bed and quaffed cough mixture. Drifting off, I thought I was asleep but I’d lain in a stupor, uncertain if it was for minutes or hours. Fever breaking, I fell in and out of consciousness during a weird night. Did I have too many drugs?

Only marginally better Monday, Phil added cinnamon to the porridge. I couldn’t taste it but the soft consistency eased my throat. After bathing, I prevaricated about staying abed, decided to go downstairs, got annoyed at an overfull draining board and retreated to the sofa to post the haiga and work on the journal. In the afternoon, I gathered recycling which Phil took out in the nasty rain, even though he was falling asleep, did some secret stuff and had a siesta. I didn’t rest but finished a book. Leftover roast for dinner, I put the anaemic veg back in the oven and he added more mustard to the gravy which I could actually taste. I took this as a sign of improvement but to be safe, I went up early with hot lemon, and fell asleep quickly for a blessedly decent night.

As ex-boxer Vitali ended the Kyiv curfew, besieged citizens queued for food. 500,000 Ukrainians fled and Nasty Patel caused confusion over visas and leave to remain for relatives of UK settlers. Russian tanks approached from the north, east and south towards Mariupol. Cluster bombs allegedly used on Kharkiv, the UN decried war crimes. Vlad sent his culture adviser to negotiate with the Ukrainian defence minister in an old palace in Gomel on the Belarus border, predictably achieving nothing. Belarus forces set to join the fighting, veteran Stepanovych urged mutiny. Russia was banned from international football and FIFA cut ties with Gazprom, as did petrol giant Shell along with links to Nord Stream 2. Escalating the conflict, a beleaguered Vlad linked increased sanctions to his decision to put nuclear forces on high alert, citing ‘aggressive statements’ by NATO. Wally dismissed the threat as ‘battle rhetoric’. Commentators suggested 2 years in a bunker with long-covid, brain fog and paranoia, turned Vlad mad. Others thought that was what he wanted us to think. When would people learn? Megalomaniacs always ended up with hubris syndrome!

On the pandemic front, Omicron ‘lost its grip’, carpark Nightingale facilities were dismantled and more trains ran but would cost more from 1^st March. Masks no longer mandatory in many indoor Welsh spaces, they remained mandatory for public transport, retail and healthcare settings. The next review was due 4^th March. Spy tech getting ‘out of control’ during lockdowns, the TUC wanted the employment bill to ensure union consultation and worker protection from intrusive AI. Reported rapes and sexual assaults up significantly since Sarah Everard’s murder, the ONS thought it was due to increased publicity and easing of restrictions but the number of girls hiding ‘deep distress’ rose.

Coronavirus taking a back seat with bigger things going on in the world, Corvus Diaries was turning into The War Diaries. I decided to take a break.

Thanks for reading. I’ll be back!

Part 97 – Never-Ending Story

“He is sending an appalling message to society, that the most powerful person in the UK Government thinks it’s okay to mock people because of their bodies, race, sexual orientation and religion ” (Kirsten Oswald)

It’s My Party and I’ll Go If I Want To

Posting the haiga ⁱ a doddle Monday, the journal took far too long even though I’d started it Sunday, leaving little time for much else. Watching The Expanse series 6 on Prime In the evening, I questioned if they’d properly explained why Naomi wasn’t dead. At bedtime, I stuffed earplugs in to block out noisy diggers near the canal and finished The Gallows Pole by Benjamin Myers – coming soon to a TV near you! A good read but lazy notes left unanswered queries on historical accuracy.

Testing was scrapped for fully vaccinated incoming travellers from 11^th February, in time for half-term. Lord Agnew resigned from government over mismanagement of covid loans, accusing the treasury of “little interest in the consequences of fraud to our society.” Look North reported that Leeds businesses were hit hard with 39 weeks lost trade; the 10^th worst in the UK. Visiting Milton Keynes University Hospital, Boris announced a cabinet office inquiry into the sacking of Nusrat Ghani. A Russian invasion feared imminent, diplomats were withdrawn from The Ukraine, Trussed-up Liz went to Brussels, Uncle Joe held a conference call with NATO allies, more warships and fighter jets were sent to Eastern Europe and troops put on standby. Threats to engage unlikely to materialise, Vlad would be quaking again at the idea of sanctions – not! The FTSE fell as did the rouble against the dollar and the pound. Jeff Bezos recruited Hal Barron of GSK to lead Alto Labs anti-ageing company to defy death before holding us all in hock forever and zooming off in a rocket when he’d wrecked the planet! Actor Sam Jackson was spotted filming for MCU in Leeds and Halifax. How on earth did they make The Piece Hall look like Russia?

ITV news reported Carrie organised a surprise birthday party for Boris, 19^th June 2020, during lockdown #1, involving M&S party food, cake, 30 people including Martin Reynolds, other Number 10 staff and Lulu Lytle, and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. Downing Street said Boris attended a ‘staff gathering’ for a mere 10 minutes. Keir responded: “This is yet more evidence that we have got a PM who believes that the rules that he made don’t apply to him…(they) spend their whole time mopping up sleaze and deceit. Meanwhile, millions of people are struggling to pay their bills. We cannot afford to go on with this chaotic, rudderless government. The PM is a national distraction and he’s got to go.”

Grey, foggy and cold for the second day running, I shivered after bathing Tuesday with an inexplicably twisted towel. Well-layered up, I went to the co-op, finding massive gaps in the fruit and veg aisle. The woman in front of me at the till irksomely failed to put a ‘next customer’ bar on the conveyor. I pointedly placed them in front and behind my purchases. As she swiped her member’s card, I wondered aloud to the cashier why nobody had ever told me that was possible and she showed me how easy it was. You learn something new every day! In the afternoon, I added to my novel and did some research before continuing cleaning the kitchen shelves and making more space.

Less infections in all age groups except the younger, DfE estimated 1:20 kids were absent from class 20^th January, the most all term. 10% of teachers off, Paul Whiteman of NAHT complained schools were ‘struggling to keep things running’. Scotland would move to hybrid working from next Monday to help the economy while interest on UK government debt trebled. Now aware of 19 Westminster gatherings, as a ‘result of information’ from Sue Gray’s team, the Met boss announced they would investigate those that ‘appeared to be the most serious and flagrant breach’ of coronavirus guidelines*. Covid-19 lead Jane Connors would oversee the special inquiry team, potentially going back 2 years. Knowing about the police probe before the morning’s cabinet meeting, Boris didn’t mention it. Apparently as he didn’t want to pre-empt Caressa Dick, but did he fear a ministerial leak? In defence of the parties, Tory MP Conor Burns hilariously said Boris was ‘ambushed by cake’ on his birthday, Crispin Blunt incredulously suggested rules were broken in ‘most homes’ and on Newsnight, Rees-Moggy used big words, evasion and waffle. Answering a mystifying question on a praetorian guard, he agreed a new leader must mean a general election. Reports followed that to celebrate the Scumbag’s departure from Downing Street 13^th November 2020, Carrie sang ‘The Winner Takes It All’ and a guest told police they were the only ones allowed to party.

Let Them Eat Cake

Sue Gray And The Party Detectives Tour T-Shirt

Thankfully, it became brighter and warmer mid-week, as Phil repeatedly told me. He helped with chores before PMQs where MPs wore purple and pink flame badges in advance of Holocaust Memorial Day.

Kate Osamor asked if The Bumbler had agreed to Rishi Rich ‘writing off £4.3bn of fraud’. He replied, ‘No’. Rishi was forced to tweet he wasn’t ignoring or writing off the Covid loans. Keir questioned Boris on breaking the ministerial code by misleading parliament and resigning. Boris repeated ‘No’ and the Captain Hindsight insult. Keir laughed: “We’ve discovered the real Captain Hindsight,” to which a backbencher added: “with a party hat!” The Bumbler spewed the usual hyperbole and answered Keir’s “people know he’s not up to the job” with rot about taking tough decisions and having a vision while labour had no plan. To claims that Keir was a lawyer, not a leader, Labour MP Lloyd Russell-Moyle said he’d prefer to be led by a lawyer than a liar. Having already threatened members with eviction from the commons, Lindsay Hoyle told him to retract the statement. To Ian Blackford’s questions, Boris jibed it looked like he’d eaten more cake, for the SNP to accuse him of body-shaming. Boris re-committed to placing a full copy of the Sue Gray report in the House of Commons library. Release of the findings imminent, media reports it could be delayed until after the police probe giving Boris a longer wait to see if he went to his own party, were dismissed but fears of severe editing surfaced later in the week.

The jokes kept coming with a sea of memes on social media, speculation the cake was Colin the Caterpillar, fitting in with the M&S party food theme, Nigella tweeting her next book would be ‘Ambushed by Cake’ and ‘Sue Gray And The Party Detectives’ tour t-shirts on sale from several outlets. Citing media stories from around the globe, Jack Straw wasn’t amused the UK was an international laughing stock.

Making progress on the novel, I had to stop typing in the afternoon due to head fug and switched to book-based research. Editing journal notes in the evening, I found it hard keeping on top of news and gave up to rest my aching brain.

A BBC investigation found 1 million counterfeit face-masks were sent to the NHS at the height of pandemic. The DOH ignored red flags until a nurse contacted Polyco, the Chinese supplier, direct, to be told they were ‘faked’ by ‘bad guys’. Papers submitted by whistle-blower Raphael Marshall to the foreign affairs committee confirmed Boris approved clearance to evacuate the Nowzad shelter from Afghanistan. He’d scorned the accusations of prioritising animals over people as ‘complete nonsense’ at the time – doubtful, as Pen Farthing was a mate of Carrie’s. A small boat capsized on its way to the USA from Bimini Island, raising concerns for the 39 migrants aboard. A spooky object was spotted 4,000 light years away. Possibly a neutron star or white dwarf, giant bursts of energy sent out radiation beams 3 times an hour.

Tummy ache prevented an early start Thursday. I opened the bedroom window to a keen blast of fresh air and held blankets tightly to shake them out in the gusty wind. I tidied up a higgledy-piggledy pile on the kitchen draining board, and then the morning was gone. Editing the journal on a slow laptop, I developed brain ache and my mood darkened. Low feelings persisting into the afternoon, I forced myself to continue cleaning kitchen shelves, disposing of a cracked bowl.

Dubbed ‘Plan A Day’, commuter numbers grew. Masks no longer mandatory, rail operators and big shops like Sainsbury’s, John Lewis, Morrison’s and Waitrose, requested customers still wore them. Less infections in all UK regions, as well as covid-related NHS staff absence, 52% of patients with covid were treated primarily for something else. Goblin Saj said Omicron was retreating and ‘thanks to the progress we have made’, care home rules would relax from next Monday. Sentencing Jonathan Chew to 8 weeks for ambushing Chris Witless last summer, the judge berated him for contempt. Trying to hide in North Wales, Boris dismissed claims of aiding the evacuation of cats and dogs from Afghanistan as ‘total rhubarb’, even though an e-mail from Rabid Raab sought ‘a steer from No. 10 on whether’ to call Nowzad staff forward. Ex-tory Rory Stewart said lying was Boris’ default position. Police recorded the highest ever number of rapes and sexual assaults in the year to September 2021, with the highest ever quarterly figure July-Sept. ONS suggested the stats reflected the impact of high-profile cases, media coverage and campaigns encouraging victims to come forward. Look North featured kids developing Tourette Syndrome during lockdown. “Tic tock syndrome more like!” quipped Phil. Newscast discussed the National Insurance hike. Claer Barrett of the FT alarmingly calculated what it actually meant, particularly for contract and gig economy workers. Leeds funny man Barry Cryer died. His best joke was arguably: “Picasso was burgled and did a drawing of the robbers. Police arrested a horse and two sardines.”

Party On!

An earlier start Friday, I battled discomfiture to sort the kitchen table and created space moving clutter to emptier shelves. The greyness had turned to drizzle by the time I headed out to dump unwanted books at Oxfam and go to the co-op where I saw Elderly Neighbour and asked after his wife. No better or worse, he doubted she’d ever get better. Experiencing a similar scenario with my mum, I empathised and reiterated offers of help if needed. Phil came to assist carting the ace freezer deal home. After lunch, he finally finished cleaning the kitchen blind. The week a boring parade of shopping, cleaning and writing, I hankered for creativity, and arranged interesting detritus from foreign holidays in a second-hand box frame. The relics of now misty-eyed distant memories had been lying about for years.

Omicron BA.1 might be waning, but scientists kept a watchful eye on BA.2 – now the dominant variant in Denmark and 1,000 UK cases. PF-07321332+ritonavir (an anti-viral pill not a phone number), would be rolled out via the NHS from 10^th February. Formerly known as Paxlovid, it was 88% effective in reducing risks of serious illness or death in the vulnerable, if given during the first 5 days of symptoms. UKHSA sent priority PCR tests to 1.3 million so they could access treatment. Government sticks to get staff back to offices could include removing tax breaks for working at home. Having said they didn’t want to delay the report, The Met asked Sue Gray to ‘minimally reference’ and ‘remove key details’ of events they were probing. Their claims it would ‘avoid any prejudice to our investigation’, didn’t ring true unless, as former DPP Lord Ken Donaldson said, they considered ‘more serious conduct’. Suspects likely to face fixed penalty fines rather than trial by jury, he considered the constraints ‘disproportionate’. Cynics might well call it a stitch-up especially as Goblins’ kid brother Bas Javid was deputy assistant commissioner! As the report could be heavily redacted and rendered pointless, backbench tories joined opposition MPs in calling for unabridged publication. And as police investigations often took years, was it a never-ending story?

A One Show preview of 100^th BBC anniversary celebrations included a hideous Disney musical medley. I queried what that had to do with the Beeb? ”It’s the Lying King!” laughed Phil. Later, we reviewed ‘Undone’ on Prime. Phil hated the drawings and I detested the dialogue so we switched back to Wheel of Time for another laugh at trollocks.

On its way to Denmark, Storm Malik arrived in the early hours Saturday. I awoke to howling wind and shaking windows. Fast-moving clouds whizzed below a blue layer of sky. Small fluffy ones literally spun. Corvids and gulls wheeled in the thermals. Elsewhere, winds of 80 mph winds caused loss of power and death in Durham and Aberdeen. One felled tree sported a coffee cup. Was it an offering to the gods? Meanwhile, Storm Ana killed people in Madagascar, Malawi and Mozambique. Attempting to ignore anxious feelings, I battled a cluttered kitchen to make brekkie. After the dazzling start, the skies darkened and the clouds became grey. I continued framing pictures and editing the journal while watching catch-up. Young Sheldon annoyingly vanished off All 4, we binge-watched Andy Warhol’s America on iPlayer. Very inspiring but those yanks didn’t half like pointing out the bleeding obvious such as ‘he was gay’. I coined the term ‘Yanksplaining’. The night peaceful as the storm past, I dreamt lots but only recalled snatches.

Sunday beginning bright, Storm Corrie was predicted to arrive by evening. Becoming colder as the sun disappeared, we forced ourselves out the house in the calm between the storms, taking steep cobbles and tarmac into woodland where jays vied for territory and broken trunks lay testament to the storm’s ferocity. Down by the riverside, brave women swam in cold waters, fairies adorned allotments and yellow catkins heralded new life. In town, coffee-cuppers infested the square. We ducked in the convenience store, stuffed reduced items into my stupid tiny rucksack and headed home for an overdue feed. (See Cool Places for more walksⁱⁱ).

Trussed-up Liz spouted the usual BS on Sunday Morning and the Glove-Puppet used the puppet press, aka The Daily Mail, to launch a so-called ‘red wall revolution’ to prop up the PM, but it wasn’t new Levelling Up money, according to labour. Speculation the NI rise might be ditched faded as Boris and Rishi wrote in the Sunday Times there was no magic money tree. Yeah, when the dosh wasn’t going to their rich tory mates! Oxford University Hospitals trials using MRI scanners adapted to use Xenon gas on the lungs of long-covid patients, showed promising early results. Anti-Vaxxer Lawrence Fox got covid and self-medicated with Ivermectin. Side effects included seizures, coma and death. We could but hope! President Trudeau ran away from Ottawa as a convoy of trucks rolled in to protest Canada’s vaccine policy. The Trucking Alliance denied the demo represented their members. Changes to The Highway Code effective from Saturday, critics said they weren’t publicised enough. I thought pedestrians already had a right of way at junctions!

*Where: those involved knew they were committing an offence; not investigating would ‘significantly undermine the legitimacy of the law’; or there was little ambiguity around a reasonable defence.

References:

i. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com

ii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/

iii. Ian Mortimer, A Time-travellers’ Guide to Elizabethan England

Part 96 – Dog’s Dinner

“You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. In the name of god, go” (David Davies)

Dog Shit Monday

On a frosty, cold Monday morning, shed boy and girl ran their van engine for 10 minutes and hollered at each other. I shouted angrily at the window. Phil smirked at me: “They need to defrost the windscreen.” “Yes, but they don’t have to add to the noise by yelling!” Patchy sun insufficient to dispel the chill, Phil made tasty porridge. As I complimented his efforts, he sceptically suggested there was a ‘but’ coming. “No there isn’t. Stop fishing!” Posting the journal, WordPress encountered an error. Anxious at losing a morning’s work, I recovered most of it. Taking the recycling out, I trod in unseen dog shit near the bins. Irritated at having to clean my boot again, I stood on one leg to scrub it off over the drain, dodging cars and parents with toddlers. As I fumed on the sofa, Phil sympathised and blamed too many lockdown dogs. I leafed through dusty books under the coffee table, finding photography self-study notes. Untouched for 4 years, maybe I should get back to it. After placing on-line orders for essentials, I did some yoga but got no rest. Officially Blue Monday, I reflected that was last week for me. Shitty Monday more like!

Cases dropping 38% in a week, Oliver Dowdy predicted an end to Plan B restrictions on 26^th January. Mike Tildesley foresaw a flu-like relationship with the virus by the end of 2022. All teens could have a booster but ex Vaccine Taskforce chair Dr. Clive Dix thought they were needless and mass vaccinations should end. Boosters: “stop the vulnerable and elderly” getting seriously ill and dying, “so they’re the ones we should focus on.” Former Number 10 official Sonia Khan claimed there was a long-standing drinks culture and The Scumbag blogged he told Boris to call off the 20^th May do. Prepared to swear in court, he claimed others were willing to join him. Meanwhile, photos emerged of Keir having a beer in the officer during the April 2021 Hartlepool by-election. He responded that they took a break for a take-away and got back to work. In the BBC’s 100^th year, Nads Doris told MPs the licence fee would be frozen for 2 years, but back-tracked on total abolition, saying that was ‘up for discussion’. She said the real-terms cut put “more money in the pockets of families who are struggling to make ends meet.” Err, how about cutting VAT on fuel bills and reinstating the Universal Credit uplift? Lucy Powell called it a vendetta and nicked our line that Operation Red Meat was “designed to stop the prime minister becoming dead meat.” £4.3 billion worth of fraudulent covid-related payments were written off, dwarfing the licence bill. As the navy refused to assist Nasty Patel in persecuting migrants in dinghies, Phil remarked: “Dead dog more like!” On Jeremy Vine the next morning, James Gammon had a point that the military were used to this type of thing, although they’d rescue people, not drown them! The House of Lords threw out the police bill clause concerning loud protests and added one on criminalising misogyny. I predicted that would get ditched in the commons.

Porky Pies and Piggy Eyes

Rainbow dawn colours complimented icing-sugar roofs Tuesday, presaging a bright, chilly day. After a decent night, I had a productive morning working on the journal and cleaning the kitchen window, before Phil tackled the blind. Looking lovely out, we discussed a walk but as the sun waned in the valley, we declared it too cold. I went to a busy, raucous co-op, noting the meat products had shifted. Was it to disguise shortages? In the afternoon, I reviewed my novel – quite funny in places if I say so myself! I then tried to block the din of canalside diggers with earplugs and rest. In a series of night-time covid dreams, I debated masks with the deceased friend.

Interviewed on Sky, Boris reiterated regret for misjudgements and upset, especially to the queen, but denied anybody told him the 20^th May gathering was against the rules, to which Keir said he shouldn’t need telling as he set the rules. Scotland ‘turned the corner’ on Omicron leading to the lifting of restrictions from next Monday. Working from home and masks would stay. There’d be no extension of the Covid Pass but still required in nightclubs, you had to prove you’d also been boosted. Rishi and Saj were ‘cautiously optimistic’ England would follow suit. Inflation at 5.4% December (the highest since March 1992), real pay fell 1%, employment went up 0.6% (a 1.4% increase on pre-pandemic levels) and unemployment fell 0.1%. The debt charity StepChange found 1/3 adults struggled to pay bills and a tweet from an infuriated Jack Monroe that the index used: ‘grossly underestimates the real cost of inflation as it happens to people with the least’, went viral. Sick of ‘governments’ jiggery-pokery’ with figures, Sharon Graham of Unite said the RPI revealed a real cost of living increase of 7.5% and they’d appoint their own experts to produce a ‘working index of inflation’. ONS would subsequently work on inflation calculators to better reflect real everyday prices. DG Tim Davie warned moving to a subscription service would mean a BBC no longer able to do what it did.

Phil working hard in the gig economy from bed Wednesday, even using the hairdryer didn’t shift him right away. Wanting to speed up so we could go out in a sunnier, warmer day, a bitty living room slowed me down as did the sun blazing through the kitchen window. I tried adjusting the blind which he’d left fully open. Easy my arse! Irate and exhausted, I settled down with coffee for another commons blockbuster.

In the so-called Pork Pie Plot*, red wall tories planned to oust Boris. Defecting backbencher Christian Wakeford crossed to the labour benches just before PMQs creating uproar akin to a zoo. Appearing with piggy eyes as though he’d been crying, The Bumbler started with platitudes and Keir started by welcoming Wakeford, and queried Boris’ serial excuses; the ’very carefully crafted responses’ sounding ‘like a lawyer wrote it’. An evasive Boris blathered that his judgements led to ‘the fastest growing economy in the G7’ and the fab vaccine roll-out and when asked: “if the PM misleads parliament, should he resign?” he answered: “wait for the inquiry.” Referring to a dog’s dinner, Ian Blackford called Boris’ excuses ‘pathetic’. Instead of ‘taking the British public for fools’, he should ‘take responsibility and resign’. No, said Boris, prating about restrictions lifting thanks to co-operation across the UK. An unmollified Blackford told him “Nobody’s buying this anymore, he’s partying and laughing…and not fit for office.” I got ready for our walk after the main questions so missed David Davies’ bombshell. Citing Leopold Amery’s words to Neville Chamberlain the veteran declared: “In the name of god, go.” And he was no red wall tory! In the aftermath, Laura K revealed the 2019 intake were referred to as a litter of puppies. Were they running around chasing their tails? You may recall the Bury South MP, dubbed Wokeford by rancorous tories, was embroiled in the boozy Gibraltar trip last November.

We got pies from the bakers and headed to the park. Too many excitable dogs for my liking, we continued to the canal. Perturbed by a bevy of geese, Phil advised they were harmless and wouldn’t come after our food which we munched perched on a low wall before taking the towpath to the next lock, crossing to an ancient clough and exploring untrodden paths. Phil laughed when I snapped a dog mess notice, but as he referred to a bird in the brush as ‘a lady balckbird’, I chuckled in turn (see below). Very muddy stretches ended in a slippery descent to the green bridge, made more hazardous when a large mutt came our way. Although not steep, I panted on the incline and remarked it was due to weeks of no actual walking. At the farm, we veered down to the station, returned to the park and admired gnarly bark edging the mossy riverside path. Phil nipped in the co-op and I continued home to find two tiny plants on the garden wall. The ‘free to good home’ note didn’t excuse them treating the wall as communal. The plants matching the one from the local charity, I took them to the doorstep and thought I’d better find out what they were now I had 3. Struggling to shed my boots, I was just about done when Phil arrived. Collapsing on the couch, I reflected it was nice to get some outdoor exercise, even if it was mainly in the shady valley. Actually feeling sleepy, I was inevitably unable to do so.

Attempting to appease rebellious tories, the scrapping of Plan B was announced. Masks in classrooms and the work from home directive ended immediately, with workers told to go in even if they felt ill! Steve Barclay ordered civil servants back to the office. All other restrictions were ditched from next Thursday with ‘advice’ to keep face coverings. The need to isolate would lapse on or before 24^th March, easing of travel would follow and there’d be a plan to ‘live with covid like flu’. It didn’t go unnoticed that Goblin Saj led the press conference rather than the PM. No contrary sage advice, the ONS Community infection Survey reported UK cases falling consistently for the first time since November, except in Northern Ireland. But another ONS survey showed Omicron 16 times more infectious; double that for the unvaccinated. Almost 64% of over 12’s boosted was all very well, but with thousands hospitalised and an average 266 deaths a day in the depths of winter, doctors rightly urged public caution. On BBC Breakfast, Jason Leitch lauded the Scottish approach and referred to LFTs as sci-fi. He meant because you could do them at home but it was grist to the mill for conspiracy theorists. Fearful of cholera outbreaks after the tsunami, 2 New Zealand naval ships took water to a covid-free Tonga. Australia and Japan also sent aid.

A bright, frosty Thursday turned nithering when the sun went behind the hill. Phil not daring to wake me, I overslept. As he didn’t hear a timid door knock, I bad-temperedly answered it for the postie to hand me a tiny box from Boots. Expecting several items, I worried the quizzical look I gave her appeared rude. Soon after, Phil answered a second knock and accepted a larger parcel. Why on earth did they not combine them? As I strove to get going, a bluebottle flew in the bedroom. It flew out when Phil opened the window. I started dusting when the landline rang. From the top of the stairs, I caught a garbled message from the Ocado driver, and rang back. He wanted to deliver early but I told him it wasn’t convenient. Annoyed at all the interruptions, Phil thankfully took the tray away enabling me to continue tidying. The minute I turned the laptop on, the delivery arrived. After we’d sorted that lot, it was almost noon meaning writing was foreshortened. Later, I cleared a stack of junk e-mail, completed a survey and played Wordle. Unaware of this social media phenomenon until Countdown Susie talked about it on telly, I guessed the word in 5 goes. Not bad for a first try, I tweeted the results.

Pork Pie Plot MPs complained of blackmail from tory whips, with threats constituency funding could be withdrawn if they didn’t toe the party line. William Wragg advised they report intimidation to the police to be accused of attention-seeking. He then arranged to meet The Met next week. The Bumbler visiting Rutherford Diagnostic Centre in Taunton, knew nothing. Number 10 refused to investigate, citing a lack of evidence. Zara Rutherford (no relation to the famous scientist) became the youngest woman to fly solo round the globe. The Glove-puppet met developers to ask them to pay to replace dangerous cladding. Newscast presenters stuffed pork pies in their gobs as they précised the plot and challenged Simon Clarke for referring to Partygate as ‘frustrating’. Viewers ‘shouting at the telly’ might use other words for it!

Sausages and Meatloaf

No frost on near roofs Friday morning, those a street away were encrusted. With office fodder returning to crush hour on public transport, BBC Breakfast discussed plans to reduce loud tannoy announcements. Voiceover artist Emma Clarke, famous for ‘mind the gap’ and no relation to the tory MP, defended what Grant Shats called a Bonfire of the Banalities. Look who’s talking! And what about blind people who needed to know where to get off? Jeremy Vine featured footage of Millie the Jack Russel. Stuck in mudflats in Hants she was rescued when a sausage was dangled from a drone. Far too much airtime was wasted on Meat Loaf. The worst rock singer in history who refused to be ‘controlled’ by vaccine, died of covid. At least that was one less Trump meathead on the planet!

On the way to the co-op, I saw the postie. Glad of the opportunity, I explained the funny look I gave her Thursday. She was very nice about it. Lots of missing fresh fruit and veg, I found a bargain chicken.

Kwarteng said we’d have to wait until the chancellor’s spring statement in March to know if we got any help with energy bills. Trussed-up Liz had Vlad Putin quaking in his boots (sic) as she threatened consequences if he invaded Ukraine. Look North went to Halifax where schools complained of allowing mask-less kids in class during ‘peak week’. Andrew Lee of Sheffield University thought it too soon. Broadcasting from what looked like a bare white-walled cell, we wondered why he wasn’t in front of his wonky picture of Clifford’s Tower. Was he isolating?

Fatty Tubbutt was absent from Saturday Kitchen, reportedly having his appendix removed. His excess fat more like! They played ‘would I pork pie to you? ‘with guest Rob Brydon. See what they did there! Grey and cold, we stayed indoors. I worked on the journal, wrote a haigaⁱ and posted an entry on Cool Placesⁱⁱ. Continuing the kitchen spring clean, the top corner shelves were festooned by cobwebs. We sorted a pile of cookery books and pamphlets, put some unused ones in a charity bag and some in the bin. The idea of a Guardianista finding the Yotam Ottolenghi supplement made us laugh “featured in this week’s recycling…” Phil went to rest his aching back, leaving me to the bulk of the dinner prep.

After inadequate sleep, I awoke Sunday absolutely parched The first time I’d caught the new Sunday Morning programme since Marr left, WHO Dr. Maria Van Kerkhove ‘pushed back’ against calling coronavirus ‘bad flu’. Billions still unvaccinated, the pandemic wasn’t done with us yet and variants would continue to emerge, possibly worse than Omicron. Maybe I thought, but it wasn’t in the virus’ interests to kill all the hosts. Alarmed by an end to self-isolation, she urged exiting ‘gracefully, carefully, slowly’ and using masks as an easy way to slow the spread. Batting away suggestions he may be in line for Boris’ job, Rabid Raab trotted out the party lines on the great vaccine programme and ‘the fastest growing economy’. He informed us it was up to the PM how much of Sue Gray’s report would be made public. Expanded to include visits to number 10 by Carrie Antionette’s friends, the inquiry could be never-ending! Nasrat Ghani claimed she was sacked from her ministerial post for being Muslim. Raab said she should’ve put in a formal complaint at the time. Chief whip Mark Spencer considered her allegation of islamophobia defamatory. See you in court!

Another grey scene, Phil reckoned it wasn’t that bad out but disposing of recycling, I declared it far too cold for visiting the dank woods. I brought the tiny plants in for repotting and looked them up on Google. Kalanchoe or Widow’s Thrill (tropical succulents from Madagascar), were tolerant and easy to propagate. I could grow some more for next Christmas. I spent the rest of the day writing.

Two years since the first Wuhan lockdown, China still battled to confine cases before the Beijing Winter Olympics and hamsters in Hong Kong caught covid. Joe Biden met Anthony Blinken and his defence team to discuss Russian aggression. Trussed-up Liz had ‘credible evidence’ Moscow planned to install a pro-Russian leader in Ukraine. They dismissed the reports as misinformation and ‘stupid rhetoric’. Supposed puppet Yevhen Murayhev told The Observer it wasn’t logical.

*Pork Pie Plot – so-called after one of the ringleaders, Alicia Kearns, MP for Melton Mowbray

References:

i. My https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com

ii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/

Part 71 – Ping Pong

“Hate will never win. To all the young people who have received similar abuse, hold your heads up high and keep chasing the dream” (Jadon Sancho)

The ‘P’ of the Ping

A miserable Monday started badly for both of us and got no better. Totally unrested, I struggled through the tedious chores and blog-posting. Sleepy at siesta time, I hoped to drop off but sadly not. Making coffee, the kettle sounded strange then went ballistic, shooting up boiling water geyser-like. Screaming in panic, I calmed down enough to mop up and noted the spill was oddly foamy suggesting something in the tap. I swilled the kettle out several times after which it behaved normally. Phil came up with alternative theories such as the lid not being shut properly and admitted to a similar experience some mornings, quickly adding “don’t tell me off.” As a joke, I started to say I might (as it solved a mystery of why there was often a puddle next to the sink). He stormed off. It was my turn to boil over. Almost in tears at stuff going wrong, a tiff ensued. I took deep breaths and kept my mouth shut, even when he tried to elicit a response from me. To make amends, he cleaned my ipad, washed up and helped with dinner. Almost falling asleep again, I resisted the urge to go to bed until the usual time. Thankfully, I had a pretty good night.

The 4 key tests met (vaccine rollout, reduction in hospital admissions and deaths, infection rates not risking a surge and no new variants – yet), parliament rubber-stamped 19^th July as ‘Freedom Day’. Goblin Saj repeated if not now, when? Legal restrictions were replaced by guidance on action expected from firms and the public to limit virus spread: covid passes, masks in crowded areas and public transport, and a gradual return to offices. Rates still rising, 200 deaths and 2,000 hospitalisations a day were predicted over summer. The BMA called it ‘irresponsible’. Keir repeated the plan was reckless: “we need a safe way of coming through this.” Take-up of first jabs dropped and massive queues formed at Heathrow terminal 5 as 100 staff were pinged and self-isolated. Raining since the night before, a deluge in London led to flash-flooding. Anita Dobson distraught at ruined memorabilia in the cellar, Brian May raged at the council and selfish neighbours who burrowed under houses, disrupting sewers. Might they take flooding seriously now the capital was affected?

Fall-out from Euro 2020 continued. Officially 65,000 at Wembley for the final, including VIPs who’d obviously not been required to quarantine, much trouble ensued. Ticket-less fans forced their way in, fights broke out and disturbingly, the missed penalties led to online racist abuse of Rashford, Sancho and Saka. The Bumbler called it appalling. Keir said his words rang hollow as he failed to show leadership and called for The Online Safety Bill to be brought forward. Allegedly scheduled before the recent abuse of footballers, Boris would host a meeting of social media firms to urge tougher action on racism, during which he was forced to reiterate condemnation of booing and abuse. A mural of Marcus Rashford defaced, stars came out in support including David Beckham and a tweet from Tyrone Ming went viral: “you don’t get to stoke the fire at the beginning of the tournament by labelling our anti-racism message as ‘Gesture Politics’ & then pretend to be disgusted when the very thing we’re campaigning against, happens.” Newsnight replayed a prophetic clip of John Barnes saying black players were popular when they won, abused when they lost. It was interesting how politically important footballers had become.

Tuesday began much better but I almost had a coronary when a top-up shop in the co-op cost a whopping £24. Mind you, I did scavenge the reduced section and return home well-laden. Incessant tree-felling all day, the noise didn’t let up so attempts to rest were even more fruitless. Behaving hitherto, the kettle did the weird foamy thing again late afternoon. Once bitten twice shy, I switched it off before crisis point and rinsed it out. Checking the theory there was something in the water, I searched online to see no reported problems. I stayed online to resolve Ocado smart pass issues and set a meeting with Valley Life.

ONS figures showed 103 weekly deaths. The highest since mid-May, Matt Keeling of Spi-M estimated 15.3 million infections by 19^th July and a third of the population still susceptible to the Delta variant. With retail sales up 10.4% in June, a fifth of high street workers self-isolated after being pinged. young people deleted the TIT app and Kate Nicholls of UKHospitality told the commons business, energy & industrial strategy committee it could go up to 1:3. She wanted a ‘test-to-release policy’ so they could work. The Advisory Committee on Business Appointments said The Scumbag may have broken rules on paid work by charging for reading his Substack blog. In France, jabs for health workers and a negative test before accessing trains, cinemas and restaurants became mandatory. Parisians protested. Despite opposition from 25 backbenchers including ex-PM Theresa May, the government narrowly won the vote on overseas aid cuts. The strict conditions on returning to the original 0.7% of GDP (reduced debt and earning more than borrowing), would never be met.

More details of trouble at Wembley emerged. 19 Met officers injured, Kieran Graham who spat at and bit coppers, was jailed for 18 months. F1 driver Lando Norris was mugged of a McLaren watch on his way back to his supercar. Messages of support covered graffiti on Rashford’s mural. Artist Akse P19 said it had become ‘a symbol of love and solidarity’ as he went to repair the damage. On Jeremy Vine, idiot sociopath Samuels claimed we couldn’t compare messages from Boris and Patel on ‘gesture politics’ to what happened to footballers and defended their latest hypocritical mutterings. Jackie Smith succeeded in tying her up in knots. She again repeated she should be able to go out partying without a mask, while the vulnerable stayed locked indoors.

Lost and Found

As forecast, a spell of good weather commenced on Wednesday. We took the daytrip delayed a fortnight ago. On the way to the station, a gaggle of adorable goslings ate grass on the church lawn. Who knew they were yellow? We caught a fast service and were soon in Rochdale. We meandered down to the centre, observing changes since our last visit, perused the market (trad but crap), shops and alleyways, and tittered at The Butts and items dumped in the river below the ancient bridge. Would someone miss the e-scooter or was it part of one of those pilot schemes? A stand on the opposite corner suggested the latter. In the conservation area we headed for The Baum to be asked to fill out a contact slip before going through to the spacious back garden. Bizarrely, they asked for our drinks order before providing menus. Even more bizarre on a hot day, they had no lager due to an equipment upgrade. When lunch menus appeared, we discovered the food had become fancier and pricier in the intervening years. I wasn’t surprised that eating and drinking out contributed to inflation rising to 2.5% in June.

Phil was disappointed they’d lost the trad rag pudding but found a burger tempting while I ordered a proper Lancs cheese and onion pie. Tasty but huge, as were the chips, I foisted leftovers on him but even he struggled. Stuffed, we went in the Co-op Pioneers Museum. Two bored-looking workers the only occupants, they took our details and asked if we’d been before. I’d visited once with Walking Friend and my mind wandered as they gave Phil the gen. As we looked round the first floor, my handmade face-mask which had worked ‘til then, started to slip. I sat on a comfy sofa to re-fasten it but with no other visitors, it seemed ridiculous, especially watching funny old films on the top floor. Back in the town centre, Phil entered the tobacconists and I hung about in the street. A young man appeared at a top window, suspicious of my camera but withdrew when I assured him I took photos of buildings, not him. Near the town hall, an archaeology dig and extended pub seating obscured its magnificence and made the adjacent street cluttered. About to sit in the gardens, broken glass and dog shit put us off. We climbed ancient steps and collapsed on a bench in the churchyard at the top before returning to the station. A hot 10 minute wait preceded a hot slow journey on the stopping train. Phil on his phone the whole way, I looked out the window at sedately passing countryside. (for a fuller description and more photos, see Cool Places^I)

On arrival, Phil realised he didn’t have his blazer. I sat on the concourse, roasting in full sun, while he ran up and down the platform. I suggested he ask at the ticket office where they promised to see if it turned up further down the line. Berating himself, Phil said it wasn’t worth picking up because they charged for lost property – disgusting! Even though I was exhausted, he lagged behind as we trudged home and went straight upstairs, leaving me to get coffee. I collapsed on the sofa; overheated and slightly irked. The local station then called to say his jacket was safely with them. He must have dropped it just as we alighted the train, after all that! I managed to cool down emotionally and physically but still full, declared I wasn’t cooking.

42,000 new covid cases and 49 deaths in the UK, levels rose on the Balearics and they moved to the amber list meaning quarantine for returning travellers (except the fully-vaxxed and under 18’s) I wondered what happened to the lifting of ‘advice not to travel’? Croatia and Bulgaria went green. TfL still insisting on face coverings, Shats said it was ‘common sense’ and “we expect (operators to put) in place whatever is applicable for their network.” Local bus and train companies left it to customers choice. Mayors Jarvis and Brabin made face-masks mandatory in bus stations. Tracy bemoaned a lack of power to act in the best interests of Yorkshire folk and RMT’s Mick Lynch cried: “(the government) cannot step back from this critical issue.” Medics from the BMA, RCN, BDA and Royal Pharma Society, wrote to demand mandatory masks in healthcare settings while Wales would keep them when other restrictions were lifted.

At PMQs, both party leaders praised the England footie team. Boris promised to crackdown on racist fans, with a lifetime ban on attending matches. Keir accused him of the ‘worst kind of gesture politics’ by wearing an England shirt over his suit and tie, and of igniting a culture war: “they’ve realised they’re on the wrong side, and they’re hoping nobody noticed.” The Bumbler retorted: “I don’t want to engage in a political culture war of any kind, I want to get on with delivering for the people of this country.” On Newsnight, Anna Soubry said the tories had lost their moral compass (did they ever have one?), had turned into the Brexit party and in line with ‘Tumpist populism’ would say anything to get a vote. They’d stoked fear and prejudice, created division and tried to hang onto the northern red wall at the risk of losing the southern blues. Getting it wrong on masks and taking the knee revealed them as charlatans.

Struggling after fractious sleep, cleaning the bedroom was hard work on Thursday, but at least a sunny breeze dried sheets quickly on the line. Late afternoon, we returned to the station. On the towpath, I saw a woman I’d become friendly with in art class some years ago. Sitting on the alcy bench, she supped coffee rather than cider and complained she was “fed up with it all.” “Everyone is,” I replied, “but just because we’re fed up doesn’t mean it’s over.” “True.” I availed myself of empty seating outside the closed station café while Phil retrieved his blazer. Expecting the park café to be shut too, I ignored my thirst. We squatted on grass near the skateboarders, amused by al-fresco chi that resembled performance art and snippets of conversation on philosophy and toe lumps. I should have taken a tape recorder. As we walked round on the riverside path, the café was apparently still serving but I felt we’d missed the pop window.

We went home via the small footbridge where a strange character head bobbed in the water. Had a distraught child lost a precious toy? Cooking salmon I’d found in the reduced section and stuffed in the freezer on Tuesday, I forgot it included sauce in a plastic tube. Looking unsavoury, I labelled it a “vomcicle” which had Phil in stitches. Was there a Halloween marketing idea there? For the record, the sauce didn’t taste of sick.

48,000 new cases, the highest for 6 months, daily deaths rose again. In official guidance for businesses, government ‘expected and recommended’ workers and customers to wear face-masks from 19^th July. Supermarkets Asda, Lidl, Sainsburys, Tesco and Waitrose would encourage it; the latter 2 also kept other measures like social distance, limited numbers in store, protective screens and sanitiser stations. The Bumbler put forward skeletal plans on levelling up, saying a ‘flexible approach’ to devolution would mean local town leaders could ‘make things happen for their communities’. Vaguely referencing more money for education and some other stuff, labour described his speech as ‘gibberish’. Keir went to Blackpool. During tea in The Winter Gardens, he said a proper regional strategy was needed. At an evening session at The Tower Ballroom, he spoke to people who’d lost faith in labour and vowed to regain trust. Later admitting it was a ‘tough gig’, he said it was better than a ‘warm bath’ with electors who agreed with him.

The UK football Policing Unit (UKFPU) announced a hate crime inquiry, working closely with social media companies. 5 arrested so far, Insta head Adam Mosseri admitted they failed to flag some racist comments but insisted the issue was since resolved: “it is absolutely not okay to send racist emojis, or any kind of hate speech on Instagram. To imply otherwise is to be deliberately misleading and sensational.”

Pingdemic

Very humid on Friday, I got hot and tired doing housework and frustrated doing stuff on the computer. The internet flaky for over a day now, I gave up and went to the co-op. Gaps on shelves, especially in the salad aisle, could be explained by everyone having picnics and barbecues, or by supply chain staff being pinged but obviously nowt to do with Brexit! At the till, I related our Pioneer’s Museum visit to the friendly cashier. She’d never been; I was surprised it wasn’t part of their induction. Phil arrived to join in, helped pack and carried groceries. After lunch, I sanded bubbles off the garden bench caused by last week’s rain and applied more varnish. I’d noticed the rose bush near the front door now reached the landing window and lopped at it as a neighbour bemoaned the lost blooms. I lay down but it was too hot to rest so ate a magnum. In the evening, we watched old DVDs, including a rerun of Britannia season 1, forgetting how long the first episode was. We drank too much wine, stayed up too late, became over-tired and had another crappy night.

The ONS revealed 154,000 total deaths, the R value still 1.2-1.4 but daily cases over 50,000 already. Chris Witless said hospital cases could reach ‘quite scary’ levels. Over ½ a million pinged in the last week, problems with test results resurfaced. Public services, firms and unions predicted shut-downs as staff self-isolated, affecting amongst others, the NHS, the Nissan plant and Leeds bin men. In the coming days, food producers, carriers and purveyors would join the chorus warning of a ‘pingdemic’. Workers ditching the app, the government again promised tweaks to make it less sensitive but refused to shorten the month-long gap between ‘Freedom Day’ and relaxed quarantine rules. Scientists predicted modifications to TIT would lead to undetected cases and ‘missed opportunities to reduce transmission’. Prof. Calum Semple reported 1:3 hospital cases suffered ‘acute covid injury’ (damage to heart, lungs or kidneys). PHE warned of spikes in norovirus when restrictions eased. Outbreaks in nurseries already far more than normal for summer, they didn’t explain why. Floods devastated parts of Germany, Belgium and Holland. Cars piled up, homes swept away, thousands were left homeless, 128 died and 1,300 went missing. Europeans blamed politicians.

Feeling wobbly Saturday morning, I braved the blazing sun to varnish bare patches on the garden bench. Walking Friend came past on her way to work and complemented my hat. Worn for essential rather than fashion reasons, I worried she’d fry without one. She assured me she was buying a parasol. Phil sawed wood planks to size and fixed the broken planter. I pottered slowly as the heat built up. Phil absent-mindedly sat on the recently-varnished bench, causing alarm. He said I over-reacted, I got angry and stormed indoors to cool off. He apologised and promised to fix any damage; thankfully, there was none. Nipping to the co-op for bread, I found reduced pastries for lunch which cheered us up. Doing anything online still a trial, Phil spent an hour on the phone to Talk-Talk, half of which was taken up locating bank details for security. No longer getting paper statements, he found it quite absurd. The connection improved marginally, but didn’t last long.

Outdoor activity resulted in filthy feet, smelly armpits and sweaty hair. We showered and changed before dinner. Struggling to stay awake earlier, I had more sleep but again woke too early Sunday morning. Still warm but cloudy, we visited the nearby clough for the cool of trees and water. Invited to join a gig in the hippie garden, I politely said maybe later but added to Phil “they’re probably a bunch of anti-maskers.” “You’re too judgemental.” “Maybe.” A Guardian family selfishly hogged the island, blocking access to stepping-stones. Phil forded the stream further up while I threw rocks in. Failing to land straight enough for my liking, I waited for him to return from the waterfall. He crossed back on my newly-placed stones, saying they were fine. On the top path, a coffee cup imprinted with a baby foot seemed a bit special to be abandoned at the foot of a tree. At the stone bridge, we examined incredibly tall flowers and waited for a youngster to vacate the bench so we could rest. Back at the lower end, the family had shifted. We stepped across to the islands. Newly-deposited shingle stretched almost to the weir and gave the impression of walking on water (see haiga aboveⁱⁱ). Taking a different way home, we gave the heaving town centre a wide berth. Sleeping was mediocre at best in the sultry heat of the night.

Neil Ferguson told Marr infections could reach 200,000 a day, double previous estimates. Claiming a data breach, CCTV footage of The Cock and Gina had been seized in raids. Victoria Newton from The Sun called it ‘outrageous’ to treat whistle-blowing as not in the public interest. In an exposé of trouble at Wembley, they revealed security guards took bribes from ticketless fans. The FA commissioned an independent review. Goblin Saj got covid even after 2 jabs and self-isolated. It emerged contacts in government didn’t have to due to taking part in public sector pilots of ‘test and release’ which no one had ever heard of. Jon Ashworth said it was another example of one rule for them, another for everyone else. Marr ridiculously asked him 10 times if he supported fully opening up, even though he clearly answered. Boris later U-turned; he and Rishi Rich would isolate because they didn’t want ‘Freedom Day’ to become a free for all (sic). Holiday-makers on Ibiza and Mykonos were banned from dancing and a rise in the Beta variant led to France becoming ‘amber plus’ for travel, making quarantine mandatory again and creating yet more confusion. As the pingdemic spread over the weekend, the Metropolitan Line shut and M&S shortened hours due to staff absences.

Part 59 – The English Game

“A good news story at last…struggling Westminster family rescued from ‘John Lewis nightmare’ by generous anonymous donor” (Barry Sheerman)

The English Langwage

Waking in the bright early dawn Monday, I turned over and slept ‘til 9. Jeremy Vine featured a campaign to make English words easier to spell. It had us in stitches. Examples included ‘wosh’, ‘Receev’ and ‘guud iedei’. Wondering who’d come up with this guff, it turned out to be the result of 3 years intense coffee-cupping by The Spelling Societyⁱ. Inspired, we came up with our own, without the need for umpteen focus groups. E.g.: langwage; alfabet; soop; shop-bort; komershull; vakseen; actchewal; dementure.

After blog posting and grotty chores, I grouted the tiles on the bathroom cube and planted wild garlic bulbs. Uprooted by accident when picking, we now had 6 plants in tubs. I’d forgotten I’d made a pile of detritus 2 weeks ago and filled a black bag with it, while a wasp annoyingly buzzed round my head. Hot and thirsty, I retreated indoors for water and a lie down.

Vaccinations reached 43m, of which 33m were first and 10m second jabs. As cases in India still soared and the majority of the 103 variant cases in the UK were linked to travel, New Delhi went into a week’s lockdown and the whole country went onto the travel red list. Effective from 4.00 a.m. Friday, Boris was forced to cancel his trade trip. The European Super League confirmed late Sunday night, the big 6 English clubs were set to join along with 3 Italian and 3 Spanish teams. Much condemnation and consternation ensued. Greedy owners were lambasted by ‘legacy’ fans. UEFA called it ‘disgraceful’ and ‘self-serving’. JP Morgan underwrote loans for The Super League Company who instigated legal action so UEFA couldn’t stop players partaking in other international competitions. Number 10 looked at options such as fan ownership or clawing back Covid loans and Jose Mourinho was sacked from Spurs. Rishi Rich announced a digital currency taskforce, denying it meant the end of English cash. Perseverance flew the Ingenuity helicopter on Mars. The two NASA bots endearingly took photos of each other.

Phil had struggled with his vision all day making him quite depressed but perked up in the evening. Watching our customary Monday night film, I could hardly keep my peepers open. Hoping for a decent night, the droning generator meant it took ages to get any sleep, even with earplugs and the meditation tape. Wakened by an almighty crashing and clanging at 4. 50 a.m., I was absolutely furious. And then it was only 3 hours until the engineering works re-commenced!

Tuesday morning, I felt back at square one with extreme fatigue and a headache. At the end of my tether, I fumed in bed while Phil fetched breakfast and tried to cheer me up. I forced a chuckle as he pulled funny faces. Wobbling downstairs for chores and writing, I opened the living room window for fresh air to promptly re-close it as the incessant din reached a crescendo. The forecast good, we’d planned a walk but the sun disappeared and I wasn’t up to it anyway. Desperate for respite, I took valerian before a siesta. Slightly chilled out, I didn’t fully relax, gave up and placed an Ocado order.

On the campaign trail Monday, Keir was invited to the Raven in Bath by one of the co-owners. In a rage that Labour hadn’t opposed lockdowns, the other owner, Rod Humphris, screamed: “get out of my pub!” The sociopath came on Jeremy Vine Tuesday morning saying ‘look at Sweden’. It was incredulous the likes of him still got a platform to spout their nonsense after a year of suffering and death! Lucy Moreton of the Immigration Services Union said 100 fake covid passes were detected at UK borders every day, airports were breeding grounds as arrivals from different countries were confined indoors and mixed in queues with no social-distancing, and there was no way to know if they quarantined as required.

English Pastimes

The night quieter, I anticipated noise disturbance any minute but it didn’t come until 8.20 Wednesday morning; mercifully not as loud as the previous day. A communique on the mayoral elections did nothing to change my opinion of the motley crew. Most were Leeds-based, the English Democrat candidate’s address wasn’t even in Yorkshire, and Reform UK (nee The Brexit Party) were anti-lockdown nutters (no wonder Anne Widdecombe was in it!) Similarly, the fruit-loop Freedom Alliance standing for the local council, spouted a load of conspiracy guff. A leaflet pushed through the letterbox later in the week had literally been hand-rolled on a Gestetner. The reek of old-fashioned ink took me back to early anarchist group days!

After the inevitable happy birthday to the queen, Keir led PMQ’s by referencing texts from the Bumbler to James Brexit Dyson. In response to Dyson’s lobbying, the PM personally promised he’d fix an issue over the tax status of workers returning to make ventilators at the start of the pandemic (which never materialised). Days later, Rishi announced workers coming to the UK wouldn’t have their tax status changed. “One rule for those that have got the prime ministers’ phone number, another for everybody else.” Keir railed, “if a nurse had (his) phone number would they get the 4% pay rise?” Boris replied: “I make absolutely no apology at all for shifting heaven and earth…to secure ventilators for the people of this country.” Keir batted back with accusations of tax breaks for tory chums, pushing colleagues to help Greensill and dodgy PPE deals. With new allegations every day, it was “sleaze, sleaze, sleaze…all on his watch!” Boris typically evasive, played the old Captain Hindsight card. A labour spokesman later said there was evidence the ministerial code was breached and further ammunition came from Transparency International UK who identified 73 crony contracts, and possible criminality.

For the first time since cafes and pubs were allowed to have seating, we had lunch out. It looked pleasant from indoors but as we set off, the sun hid behind clouds and a cool breeze whipped up. We sat outside the Turkish café for a chilly al-fresco lunch – a very English pastime! German Friend came by and asked me to share pre-diabetic tips sometime. She’d booked a table at the pub on the square for herself and a mutual friend (whom we’d last seen March 2020; just before she went into hospital at the start of lockdown #1). I went in the sweet shop for some non-essential shopping while Phil loitered outside the animal charity shop. We perused a seemingly interesting display of kitchen gadgets but came away empty-handed.

Stopping to say hello to our friends outside the pub, they persuaded us to join them. The two women sat opposite each other at the far end while an old fellow pub mate sat at the other end, leaving plenty of space for us. Before getting stuck into a one-time regular pastime of supping ale, I nipped across the square to finish errands before enjoying an hour in company. Although fun, it felt odd being with other people and the staff flitted between tables far too much for my liking. Comparing notes on the various lockdowns, we had a laugh at the geese and corvids taking over during the first one.

After 1 pint, we felt really cold and said our goodbyes. Phil still had one more purchase to make. I strolled homewards until he caught me up and persuaded me to take a bunch of free sage from a table in the lower street a very English herb.

Daily press conferences by Boris scrapped, Oliver Dowdy was wheeled out to defend the decision to use the room in Downing Street, specially refurbished at tax-payers’ expense, for ministerial press conferences instead. Indian cases and deaths still rising, hospitals were full, the number of variant cases in the UK doubled, and 200 people a day arrived to beat the Qs before Friday. Boris announced a Covid-19 taskforce to find effective anti-virals. More legislation muted to foil the European Super League such as changing competition laws, the big 6 English teams all pulled out, as did Inter Milan. Was the move in anticipation of changes to the Champions League which the big clubs didn’t think went far enough, or a ruse to get more money out of the FA? John Barnes appeared on BBC Breakfast to say it was. As Derek Chauvin was rightly convicted of the George Floyd murder, it emerged teenager Ma’Khia Bryant was shot by a cop minutes before the verdict. Would anything ever change? After a Tesla car missed a turning, crashed into a tree and burst into flames killing the 2 occupants, police said no one was driving. Evil Musk tweeted: “Data logs recovered so far show autopilot was not enabled” A likely story seeing as 27 crashes in the past month were being investigated in the USA.

English Mythology

Frost gave way to sunshine on Thursday. Phil wanted to find more mythical archaeology and I agreed to go in search of a standing stone near the hilltop village. We caught a bus up to the boundary with the next hamlet, utilised a picturesque bench to eat a pasty lunch and consulted directions before looking for the mystical stone. On eventually finding it, we realised we’d past it several times on the way to the crags. How did we miss those huge holly bushes? Inaccessibly set into a wall and obscured by barbed wire, we peered over to realise a line of stones crossing a horse field led directly to it and mused on possible links to structures on the moor. Continuing down, a trio ascending considerately attached their dog’s lead. At the bottom, we turned onto the leafy road for an easy walk back. The trio with the dog re-appeared and asked for directions to town. Near home, we chatted to my old art teacher. He’d had a family holiday in Cornwall the previous week. Postponed from last year, they’d had a good time but found it impossible to eat out in the evenings. (For a fuller description of the walk, see Cool Placesⁱⁱ).

On another quiet night, I struggled to sleep. My mind full of the day’s findings, I recalled a neighbour once told us the whole town was surrounded by a stone circle. Was it true? Was that why we kept finding mysterious stones? It would be awesome if so – like the mythical Wiltshire village of Avebury!

95% of over 50’s now vaccinated, Margaret Keenan looked forward to a jolly. Covid passports promised soon, she could go to desperado Spain and wear a mask on the beach. The Cabinet Office were probing the source of the leaky texts between Boris and Dyson. Labour wanted a Commons Liaison Committee enquiry. The Good Law Project court hearing on PPE scams unveiled a VIP route to the PM. Civil Servants had complained of drowning in a quagmire of contract requests that didn’t pass due diligence. Hapless drug dealer Ali Hilmi was hilariously convicted after trying to get into the Projekt Nightclub, Burnley with fake £20 notes that said Poond. Phil discovered they could be bought on Amazon but had sold out. The misspellings harked back to the daft spelling society campaign, but the English pronunciation was Pownd, wasn’t it? Maybe he was Scottish, like Les McKeown of the Bay City Rollers who died suddenly.

The English Saint

Woken again by engineering work Friday morning, I battled heavy limbs and a headache for a trip to the co-op, luckily quiet and stressless. I took a break from writing in the afternoon to embark on a ‘deep clean’ of the bathroom, expunging mould from the back window and evicting a family of spiders from beneath the back cupboard. Through the open window, I heard a child calling “pappa!” Not even the English middle-class used that word. They must have been proper posh! I suspected they might be slumming it in a camper van recently parked up on the street below. That evening, we spotted the shed people returning from a game of golf – no-one knew why that was a popular pastime!

Local news wished us happy St. George’s Day. Rather pointlessly, seeing as no special events were allowed and he wasn’t even English. Some sage bods said vaccines did a lot of the ‘heavy lifting’ so we could forgo face-masks over summer but may need them come autumn. 1 dose of AZ or Pfizer gave 74% protection according to the latest study, while the EU planned to sue AZ over ‘contract failure’. The PAC inquiry into supply chain financing revealed that Camoron bombarded BOE gov John Cunliffe with letters. Treasury PS Tom Scholar said he arranged 9 meetings with Charles Roxburgh as it was ‘natural’ to talk to an ex-PM. ONS figures showed the public deficit was 14.5% in the last fiscal year, the highest since 1946. A computer chip shortage caused by people working at home halted car production. Post Masters were acquitted of theft convictions as crap Fujitsu Horizon computers were proven to be responsible for discrepancies. Having covered up the scandal for years, and not telling the accused they weren’t alone, former PO chief Paula Vennells belatedly apologised, resigning from her roles on the boards of Morrisons and Dunelm and as a church minister.

Getting clean clothes out Saturday morning, a drawer in the fitted cupboard collapsed. Annoyed at taking everything out to find the cardi I wanted wasn’t even there, I bad-temperedly hurled woollens on the bed and covered them with a dust sheet before Phil fixed the offending article with glue and screws. It seemed a good time to wash bedroom rugs and I hung them outside to take advantage of fine, breezy weather. Young student neighbour appeared, seemingly overdressed but denied being hot. She was returning to uni soon. Due to royal charter, Cambridge had special term-times over which the government had no authority. I popped to the co-op for a couple of items to find the shelves stripped of salads and dips. Maybe everyone was having barbecues to belatedly celebrate the not-English patron saint. Next-Door-But One’s fella waited for me to come back up the steps. Conversing for the first time ever, he turned out to be even more neurotic than me about the effectiveness of vaccines and said the whole household had shielded and not even entered a shop for over a year. I didn’t mention spotting them going places in the car. Young Student came by and declared “I’m off to the pub,” marking a dramatic change in attitude. Maybe she believed herd immunity was now sufficient to protect us oldies. I scrubbed the bathroom floor and installed the newly-tiled cube, then set about upcycling an old Ikea table. Found a couple of years ago, the garish pink thing spent a summer outside until it became warped in the rain. After some bodging, it occupied a corner of the living room, covered with a cloth. More fixing required, Phil got the glue and screws back out. I considered tiling the top for outdoor use but calculated I’d need loads and decided painting would be easier. By then, my back ached and I’d had enough so.

Fallout from the fast-failing Euro Super League continued. Pundits from across Europe on Football Focus said football wasn’t viewed the same on the continent. To them, it was just 90 minutes whereas the English saw the game as essential to life. Apparent that rich owners didn’t understand its cultural importance, player and fan involvement was seen as the only way forward. Former PM Gordy Brown called the episode a turning point, after which “people will not support greed.”

In spite of backache, Phil consented to a Sunday forage. Pretty sure the garlic patch our Walking Friend mentioned was the place we visited a year ago, we climbed up the ridge. I tried to trace likely lines of the fabled stone circle surrounding town. “But why would anyone bother?” asked Phil, “it was a muddy bog in ancient times.” “Good point.” In the dark wood, we found the crop larger than last April, but top leaves looked dusty. We each filled a bag and rested on a mossy rock beside a twisty path and walked between gnarly trees to arrive at a path last trodden in autumn. Now both flagging with back pain, we had to stop again on the way home. I began to give the leaves a thoroughly good rinse to find Phil’s haul full of grit and left it for him to tackle. Over coffee and cake, I came up with a haiga based on Thursday’s walkⁱⁱⁱ.

Whingeing on the Marr about Brexit, Sturgeon promised no border if Scotland became independent – well, we all knew how well that went in Ireland! The Indian crisis worsened: the number of infections broke the world record 4 days in a row, hospitals ran out of oxygen and Modi was blamed for slow vaccine roll-out even though they made loads. Stephen Reicher criticised a group of ‘siren scientists’ calling for lifting of measures while in Germany, restrictions would last ‘til June. Anti-lockdown demos in London were attended by mayoral candidate and all-round wanker Lawrence Fox. Clashes led to 2 cop injuries and 5 arrests. Hard to figure what they hoped to achieve with lockdown almost over, on Jeremy Vine the next morning, Beverly Swivel-insisted protestors acted responsibly unlike pub-goers in Soho – I rest my case!

The Scumbag reported to be the Chatty Rat who leaked the Bumbler/Dyson texts, he denied it. He also refuted claims he’d leaked full details of lockdown mark 2 before the official announcement, via a WhatsApp message from Downing Street and accused Boris of wanting to stop an ‘embarrassing’ inquiry into the real source. Boris phoned news bosses to sprag on his former spin doctor, a move destined to backfire. Allegations that The Bumbler used tory donors to pay for renovations to his flat were dismissed by Liz Truss as ‘tittle-tattle’. She was more concerned with trade deals than this petty stuff. Apparently Carrie Antionette insisted on a revamp after Theresa May left ‘a John Lewis nightmare’. Most people considering John Lewis upmarket, not to mention it smacked of yet another piece in the cronyism jigsaw, the comments showed how out of touch they really were. Barry Sheerman joked on twitter: “A good news story at last!”

The night quiet but bright with an almost-full moon, I revelled in a semi-stupor until I fell into a deep slumber only to wake 2 hours later with snippets of dreams flitting through my mind.

References:

i. The Spelling Society: https://www.spellingsociety.org/; http://spellingsociety.org/uploaded_views/traditional-spelling-revised-personal-view.pdf

ii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/

iii. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com

Part 52 – Balancing Act

“Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine. I’m begging of you please don’t hesitate. Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine. Because once you’re dead then it’s a bit too late” (Dolly Parton)

A Game of Percentages

My sleep was disturbed Monday morning by a racket emanating from waste ground near the canal. The workmen barely discernible beneath cold, grey fog, it seemed the recent spring-like feel was a blip. Phil made porridge. It subsequently took half an hour to wash up. Recovering with coffee, I posted blogs and worked on the next chapter of the journal. Unable to rest in the afternoon, I considered if random birthday gifts stashed under the bed were adequate. Inadequate exercise and repose prompted me to do some late yoga, as recommended by the latest research suggesting light to moderate activity an hour before bedtime. It definitely helped with relaxation and kip.

Hospital admissions for Covid among the over 80’s fell by 80%. The PA news agency reported falling infection rates across the 4 UK nations although by less in England. Boris insisted we had “one of the toughest border regimes anywhere in the world.” Keir disagreed: “(we hadn’t) secured our borders in the way we should have…it demonstrates the slowness of the government to close off even the major routes…(and) unwillingness to confront the fact that the virus doesn’t travel by direct flights.” Yvette Coop added: “These cases…arrived a month after the Brazil variant was first identified and we were raising with the government the need for stronger action.” Large queues at Heathrow made me wonder: ‘if it’s like this with travel restrictions, what will it be like in May when holidays are allowed?’ While the EU discussed a ‘digital green passport’, the DoT wanted a common approach. The Restaurant Group were ‘burning through’ £5.5m per month but ‘strong trading’ for take-away deliveries hiked share prices. Northern-based restaurant chain Tomahawk Steakhouse asked workers to loan them 10% of their furlough monies. Was that even legal? GMB regional sec Neil Derrick said: “It’s never been easier or cheaper for businesses to borrow money…but (they) want it for free and they have solved their cash flow problem by giving a cash flow problem to their staff.” A week later, Tomahawk gave the dosh back. Derrick maintained that wouldn’t have happened without attention being brought to the matter.

In the first public sighting since her house arrest, Ang San Suu Kyi appeared in a Myanmar court via video link to have 2 more trumped up charges added to those already levied. Meanwhile, a meteor was seen whizzing over Barnsley and landed somewhere in Gloucestershire.

Although more rested on Tuesday, I suffered achiness and a sore throat. Ignoring it, I submitted my article to Valley Life Magazineⁱⁱ and worked on the journal before going to the co-op. A sizeable shop proved rather stressful with screeching kids and dithering hikers impeding the aisles. One hit me with his bag as he reached into an adjacent cold cabinet – accidentally on purpose? I took a deep breath and contained my annoyance. Cowbag staffed the only open till but we exchanged pleasantries rather than bickering. Back home, I hid perishable treats and instructed Phil not to nosy around in the kitchen. He’d cleaned the cooker and floor while I was out which was nice, especially as he’d had an awful day work-wise and had to reset the internet. Powerless to help, I made sympathetic noises. The Marcella double-bill finale annoyingly split by ITV news, meant forgoing pre-bed yoga and I awoke several times during an odd night.

UK deaths from the virus halved every day and decreased by 25% in the past week- the lowest since January. As the P1 variant mystery search was narrowed to 379 households in South East England, studies revealed 25%- 61% of Manaus residents were susceptible to re-infection. Sharon Peacock, Cog-UK, said it was now found in 25 countries but couldn’t speculate on how it would ‘pan out’ and focus was still on the prevalent Kent Virus. PHE real-world data on the effectiveness of the AZ and Pfizer vaccines showed they provided 60% protection in the over 70’s with 80% less hospitalisations in the over 80’s. Andrew Pollard of Ox Vax proclaimed it ‘stunning’ and a wake-up call for Europe: “it shows how critical it is to improve public confidence across the continent about the vaccines.”

Rishi Rich reportedly worked 24/7, spoke to the queen and made his own promotional video in the budget run-up. Previews included a public sector debt of £2.1 trillion and an extension of furlough to 30^th September (but with larger employer contributions). The CBI said it would “keep millions more in work and let businesses catch their breath as we carefully exit lockdown.” Shadow Treasury Sec Bridget Phillipson countered: “announcing this the night before shows the focus on Rishi Sunak getting his moment in the sun rather than protecting jobs and livelihoods.” Jon Ashworth tweeted ‘The ego has landed’.

Weighing Things Up

Rishi’s Balancing Act (Cartoon by Guy Venables)

Wednesday morning, I adapted an Australian chocolate fruit cake recipe for Phil’s birthday. With all the measuring and weighing it took a full hour to get it in the oven. While it was baking, we watched events in parliament. On the anniversary of the government publishing a 27-page document insisting the UK was ‘well prepared’ for the pandemic, only to announce lockdown 3 weeks later, Keir started PMQs by asking why the UK sold arms to Saudi and slashed aid to Yemen by half. In a tory backlash, Jeremy C**t called it ”incredibly disappointing,” and Andrew Mitchell said it was “a strategic mistake with deadly consequences.” UN Sec Gen Guterres declared the cut a “death sentence” for hungry children amidst possibly the worst humanitarian crisis ever.

The budget presentation ensued. Rishi dished it out with an additional £65bn for Covid measures, £150m for a community fund (to help locals buy their local), extension of furlough as expected and characteristically complicated help for the self-employed. The UC uplift would stay for 6 months and the living wage increase to £8.91. Apprenticeship employer incentives rose to £3,000 and new re-start grants for businesses came in April. The business rate holiday would end in June, then be discounted by 60% to the end of the fiscal year. Similarly, the 5% VAT rate would stay until September and then be 12.5% for the next 6 months. Stamp duty changes were extended and big lenders confirmed they’d offer loans under the mortgage guarantee scheme.

Commitment to green growth included a ‘green bond’ and investment in offshore wind. Regional growth plans involved more funding for devolved administrations, an infrastructure bank in Leeds, a northern ‘economic campus’ (i.e., Treasury office), and port infrastructure in Teesside and Humberside. 8 freeports with favourable tax and duty rates would be created: East Midlands airport, Felixstowe & Harwich, The Humber (Goole), Liverpool, Plymouth Solent, Thames, and Teesside (Redcar).

Good to see money spent on the north for once, there was a definite ‘blue wall’ bias. Leeds was dismissed as the location of the Treasury office in favour of Darlington (near to Rishi’s Richmond patch), freeports weren’t evenly spread and of the £1bn new ‘town deal’ areas, 40 out of 45 had tory MPs. Only 3 of the constituencies covered voted remain in the Brexit referendum.

Other schemes to boost productivity and growth included a retail savings bond, management training, visa reforms to attract scientific and tech migrants, and free digital training and new software discounts for SMEs. The ambition to be a ‘scientific super-power’ was ‘not hubristic, but realistic’, he claimed, as demonstrated by the success of vaccine roll-out. Was the extra £1.6 bn to continue this and to ‘improve future preparedness’ part of the £65bn? What was the rest for?

Counting The Cost

Reeling off the biggest borrowing figures since WW2, the chancellor warned they’d continue to be high before falling, and Interest rates may not stay low. Thus he planned to achieve ‘sustainable public finances’ and not borrow to pay for everyday spending but invest in capital projects. Anticipated tax rises took the form of a freeze on personal tax thresholds in 2022 and a hike in corporation tax to 25% in 2023. There would be a smaller profits rate of 19% for SMEs, tapers above £50,000 and a business tax ‘super-deduction’ for re-investment, to boost jobs and economic recovery.

He didn’t mention a card swipe limit rise to £100, and while there was no tax hike on fuel, beer or baccy, air passenger duty for long-haul flights would increase. More significantly, he failed to draw attention to a lack of extra money for schools or a cut in NHS and social care funding. Responding that it wasn’t a budget for ordinary people, Labour cited an ‘astonishing’ £30.1bn cut in day-to day DOHSC spending ‘buried in the small print’. Keir said it papered “over the cracks” rather than rebuilding the economy and Rishi totally ignored public sector workers while indulging in social media gimmicks at tax-payers’ expense. Disregarding a waiting list backlog, Ministers countered they’d put tons of money in during the pandemic. Boris justified a derisory 1% pay increase for NHS staff by saying most carers worked in the private sector and were covered by the increase in the living wage – splutter!

Head spinning with arithmetic, I got stuck into cleaning. In spite of mental and physical exhaustion, I had a terrible night. Unable to settle, I wanted to try a BBC Headroom soundtrack but required to sign in, I had no chance of remembering the password at 1.40 a.m. I used the meditation soundtrack, and fell in and out of broken sleep. Phil also struggled and dreamt he went in a rocket. Thankfully, it wasn’t the evil Musk’s Space X Starship 10 which hilariously blew up on landing later in the week!

In other news, Sturgeon told Scots she’d consider accelerating exit from lockdown, but criteria for moving down the levels would tighten from late April. Builder Taylor Wimpey pledged £125m to replace dangerous cladding and conduct fire safety work on properties constructed within the last 20 years, including blocks under 59ft tall excluded from the government fund

Achy again on Thursday, I performed morning exercise before turning to writing. Attempting to solve the ‘blue sandstone’ mystery from the last walk, I researched geological maps but they all cost money – bloody geologists! I set off to spend a small fortune on Phil’s favourite meaty treats from the butchers, and a bit less on a last-minute gift from the chemist. He was upstairs on my return so I could hide purchases unseen. Deciding it was enough presents, I wrapped them before attempting a siesta, to be disturbed by a noisy generator on the waste-ground leaving me tired and stressed. Phil said: “You don’t have to do all that stuff for my birthday.” “I know, but I feel I should, to make up for not going anywhere.” He tittered.

An ONS survey suggested 48% of over 80’s who’d had a jab broke lockdown rules by meeting someone outside of their family or bubble. The MHRA were given permission to fast-track vaccine approval to deal with mutants. As France, Belgium, Italy and Germany approved AZ for the over 65’s, a German doctor offered Phil a spare via social media. “Beware of drugs dished out on Facebook!” Biden said there was enough vaccine for all American adults to be injected by May, and Dolly Parton sang to the tune of Jolene while having hers (see above).

On QT, business minister Kwasi Kwarteng more or less said ‘ never mind the mistakes, we have the vaccines’ and justified the dearth of public sector pay rises by saying the private sector was badly hit by the pandemic. It would have been even worse if the carers and key workers hadn’t stepped up, you wanker! Entrepreneur Theo Paphitis called Tit ‘appalling’ and Labour’s Lisa Nandy exclaimed “not learnt the lessons” a lot.

Friday, I went a bit mad decorating the cake. The cooking chocolate failed to melt properly. I turned it into lumpy frosting and hid the mess with a melange of crystallized ginger, nut flakes, chocolate bits and candles. I checked the proof from Valley Life, wrote ‘turning seasons’ for Cool Places and got the co-op’s freezer deal for a birthday eve carb-fest. Printing the card later, I’d completely forgotten about the cute animal collage I made weeks ago. Railing against the cost of ink, I was irked the colours didn’t reproduce well in print. We spent the evening watching the highly anticipated Deutschland ’89 and films, drinking Mateus and toasting Phil’s birthday.

The P1 mystery person was found in Croydon, thankfully in quarantine. Nads Doris did a round of interviews to defend the 1% NHS pay rise, insisting it was all they could afford. Unions up in arms, the GMB called it “dismissive and insulting,” Unison were balloting members on industrial action, and the RCN set up a £35m strike fund. Cyprus and Portugal planned to welcome UK vaccinated vacationers by 1^st May, but we weren’t allowed to go until at least the 17^th. 40 days after Nasty Patel announced it, fliers were mandated to complete a ‘declaration of travel’. From Monday, a costly £2,000 fine would ensue for failure to produce the document.

Paying The Price

On the big day, I assembled Phil’s birthday gifts and treats and cooked a fat meaty brunch before the unwrapping. He seemed to like the random selection! His sister rang him for a chat. As a teacher in Hull, she had worked throughout in a school never less than 50% full even in total lockdown. An indication of the demography of the workforce, unsurprisingly leading to a much higher infection rate than the UK average.

Turning back to pleasant distractions, we decided on a walk. With few options open to us without breaking the law, it was either that or coffee-cupping. Luckily, appearance of the sun coincided with the mid-afternoon outing to his favourite wood. Crossing at the traffic lights, we gave a cheery wave to a mate walking her dog, navigated the busy park, and went along the Sustrans path. Low river waters revealed detritus and mysterious posts sticking out of sandy banks. On a green bridge, pixie cups sprouted on mossy walls. Near the farm, robins hopped between garden shrubs. A man gardening commented on the number of small birds thereabouts. A lovely grassy lane took us down to the old quarry, where a couple of boys rode mountain bikes. I prodded an old bottle filled with green growth. Thinking it could have art potential, I safely used a spare carrier to place it in my rucksack. We rested at a small waterfall and enjoyed the calm rumble of water underfoot until a cloud of midges emerged! Continuing through the unpeopled wood, we were serenaded by flocks of finches and yet more robins on the final stretch onto roadway. Taking steps down to the canal, the lock bridge was crowded, requiring some dodging. (for a fuller description of the walk, see Cool Placesⁱⁱⁱ).

The barmy-looking cake was scrummy. While out, I received several comments on the photo I’d posted on Facebook. Referring to the candles, one friend said ‘I see Phil is 6’ ‘Err, 7 actually!’ Barely hungry, we forced ourselves to order an Indian take-away for dinner. The deliverer rang to say he couldn’t find the house. I stood on the doorstep and waved at a figure prowling the street. He’d been looking for a number that didn’t exist. On approach, he wore a mask on his chin. Why bother if you took if off your face when you got to the customer’s house? Not having dealt with a plague era take-away before, I considered the logistics. I lay all the containers out on the kitchen table, removed the lids then washed my hands for serving, later cleansing the table and containers to put leftovers in the fridge. Apart from cold bhajis, it tasted great but I wondered if it was worth the money now I could cook a decent curry myself. Phil said it was, for the variety. He had seconds but I could hardly move after 1 plateful! We drank cava and watched a DVD movie double-bill. My Way mad because it’s true, Doomsday because it isn’t. The Neil Marshall offering from 2008 wrongly predicted how people would act in the midst of a pandemic, lockdown and Brexit but his fictional plague was far more interesting than the real one!

On a cold, grey Sunday, we stayed in. Feeling whacked, I apologised for being boring but tried to stay upbeat. Writing and telly-watching was punctuated by eating yummy leftovers. Despite severe fatigue, I struggled to sleep, doubtless due to the weekend’s excesses. Night-time brightness didn’t help. I peeked through the curtains at shiny white clouds, then used the meditation soundtrack to fall into a fractious sleep.

Vaccinations reached 22k. As part of the over 55 age group, we’d be next. Susan Hopkins, PHE said the UK was in for a ‘hard winter’ with surges in flu and ‘other respiratory pathogens’ because lack of a recent flu season reduced immunity. But wouldn’t that slow the spread and reduce the risk of mutations, as they argued for Covid? NHS workers claimed a higher pay offer was already ‘baked in’, held demos and threatened court action. Boris still insisted 1% was all the government could afford (but it could change when the offer was considered by the NHS Pay Review Body). As Europe warned of legal action, Lord Frost wrote in The Torygraph to tell them to stop sulking over the UK’s unilateral decision to extend the ‘grace period’ until October. Using the EU rule put in place 30^thJanuary*, France and Italy churlishly blocked AZ exports to Australia. A record 2.9m Americans were inoculated on Saturday making a total of 90m. The Pope spent the weekend in Iraq and held a poignant Sunday mass among the ruins of Mosul.

* Vaccine export transparency mechanism; subsequently extended to the end of June 2021.

References:

i. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com

ii. Valley Life Magazine: http://valleylifemagazine.co.uk/

iii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/

The Corvus Diaries

A Journal of the Coronavirus

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