“In major cities, libtards and snowflakes mince into the streets to celebrate Biden’s victory with an outpouring of hope, joy and coronavirus droplets” (Narrator, Death to 2020)
Life in the Freezer
Bank holiday Monday started grey and literally freezing. After I posted blogs the sky seemed to brighten slightly. Days since I left the house, we wrapped up against the cold to embark on a short walk along the canal; an astoundingly unoriginal idea. The towpath busy, we stopped often for lumps of people to pass and also to peruse strange sights including a bizarre collection of carnival animals, trees festooned with decorations and dedications, barges bedecked with effigies and Christmas gubbins and one selling coffee. “So that’s where you get it from when everywhere else is shut.” (for a fuller description of the walk, see ‘Cool Places’) i
The Glove Puppet appeared on BBC Breakfast to evade questions on giving MPs 1 day to read and debate all 1,200 pages of the Brexit deal, claiming they’d had 4.5 years. He also downplayed the effect on livelihoods, smugly saying there would be ‘bumps’. Incredible! With evidence the new coronavirus variant was spreading fast, hospital admissions were higher than during the spring peak. Certain to grow again after Christmas mixing, just in time for the start of the new term, the idiotic government still planned to forge ahead re-opening schools. The next day, they announced the army would help with testing, by giving remote guidance. Education unions said while help was welcome, the response was inadequate.
Tuesday, we woke to a sprinkling of snow. Determined to have a few normal days, I exercised, made porridge and carried out small chores. As I sorted recycling, crumbs spilt all over the floor irritatingly making more work. I texted my walking friend again about her gifts. It turned out she got a positive test result on 23rd December, just after I last contacted her. Thus she was stuck indoors self-isolating until New Year’s Day, but not ill. Adding a slice of Christmas cake, I took her the gift bag. I hesitated climbing steep steps but thankfully, they were ice-free, unlike the top pavement which was so treacherous I had to walk on the road. I knocked and stood back from the doorstep to wait, cautiously gave her the gifts and chatted from a distance. Her birthday falling on 2nd Jan, she was looking forward to walks with her companion when she re-gained freedom. “Well, we won’t be going to the pub will we?” I’d not been home long when she messaged to say thanks for the gifts. She liked the antique coffee pot I found some time ago so much that she turned it into a profile pic. I walked back down to the co-op for a few items, had the usual rigmarole of sorting groceries and watched a telly film before embarking on a customary annual film review. That night, I slept 8.5 hours, including one big lump of 5 hours. Possibly a record, maybe it was due to skipping siestas.
Wednesday morning was very cold and still white after an icy night. Stunned by the extra sleep, I managed a few exercises. Phil fetched cereal topped with a lovely apple art. Taking a picture with my new phone camera, I struggled with the photo app. Unable to see any option other than saving them to Google drive, I e-mailed it to myself and saved it to OneDrive.
Later, I found a couple of apps to add and Phil helped get rid of the daft Bing widget so I could fit more icons on the front screen.
He informed me of a new film in production. Called ‘Le Neuf’, it was about Spanish republicans liberating Paris in 1944. Amazed we knew nothing of this episode of WW2, especially having read books by Anarchists that were actually in the civil war, we found a few historical photos but the story had been largely buried.
Following a very hasty lunch, we embarked on another short walk to capture wintry scenes, taking the safest way to the nearest clough. Although scrappy, patches of snow added to the attractiveness of the woodland. Not too busy, muddy paths suggested we’d missed the rush. A fellow walker said he’d seen a kingfisher. We were naturally sceptical. “Yeah, right, sure you did!” A couple of days later, photographic proof appeared on Facebook so I guess we were just never lucky. The ‘islands’ inundated, we picked our way towards the waterfall as far as passable then hiked up the top path, perused the snowy bridge and turned back to climb further for gorgeous nigh-twilight scenes across the valley. The old church ruin looked like a castle turret and the pike appeared mystical. Further up, kids sledged on thin ice in a field, overlooked by a falcon in a tree. (for a fuller description of the walk, see ‘Cool Places’i)
In town, we got a few bits from the convenience store and returned home in time for another rambling briefing. On the day Margaret Keenan had a second Pfizer jab, Boris bragged about approval of the Oxford vaccine. The first dose gave ‘massive protection’, so they planned to immunise as many vulnerable people as possible and delay the second injection for 12 weeks. This garnered much criticism, including from Pfizer who’d not tested their drug with such a long interval. Presenting the tier review, The Cock predictably said most areas would move up: all of the South East, Midlands, North West, and South West to tier 4; Liverpool and North Yorks to tier 3, where West Yorks stayed. Now no regions were in tier 2, and only the Silly isles stayed at 1.
Gavin Salesman made a commons statement delaying the start of term for secondary schools until 18th Jan (except for exam-year pupils, kids of keyworkers and the vulnerable). Not applicable in tier 4, confusion reigned. The message for colleges and universities was equally garbled; something about 2 rapid flow tests and remote learning except for students undertaking practical courses. MPs went to parliament and voted yes to the Brexit deal, including Keir, even though he called it ‘thin’. Boris signed the document at a tiny desk with the ridiculous tinpot dictator-style backdrop of 4 union jacks.
Death to 2020
Following a freezing night, snow remained on the ground New Year’s Eve. Early sun was overtaken by mist and a pink sky suggested further wintry showers. Disinclined to go outside, I worked on the journal. Phil cut his hair into the characteristic buzzcut – not my idea of fun in the sub-zero conditions. We marked the demise of 2020 with a lobster dinner (thanks to bargainous Lidl), pink cava, party poppers and social media messages. There was no need to tell us not to have a party but I knew others would. I’d heard drunks coming home late every night of the week – god knows where from! We watched the bongs as Big Ben sounded for the occasion followed by a rather good virtual display. Mind you, the bangs had stiff competition from the real-life cacophony. With only 3 pubs open in the UK (all on the Silly isles), there were street parties and raves aplenty. The idiots were probably celebrating Brexit as well as the new year. The predicted massive rise in cases within the next week or so came earlier than expected.
After mediocre sleep, I started New Year’s Day with a slight hangover. The temperature rose above zero for the first time in days and a bit of blue appeared in the sky but typically, not until almost dusk. We watched the posh New Year concert from Vienna which made a change from lairy cartoons. Family films were all very well, but did they have to be aimed at 5 year olds? With mixed feelings about 2021, I guessed the next few months would still be grim with the virus and Brexit, but as more vaccines came, hoped it would improve late spring/early summer. I resolved to try and be kinder. Not sure how long that would last. Ha, ha!
Drawn in by Dr. Who, we started on dinner late. Fiddling with lobster remains for seafood spaghetti, and the tardy baking of garlic bread due to crap gas, made us bad-tempers. But the delicious repast and unwise but tasty red wine soon restored our spirits, as did the most excellently funny spoof documentary ‘Death to 2020’ on Netflix.
Saturday started sunny and I wished my walking friend a happy sparkly birthday. It then snowed and I trusted she wasn’t stuck up a hill somewhere. Wobbly from the wine, I forced myself up, and took several hours to brace myself for an expedition to the co-op. Covered in 3 layers plus the rarely required ‘bear coat’ (effective to -40 degrees), I discovered it wasn’t actually that cold outdoors. The supermarket shelves resembled the war. The friendly kiosk cashier insisted it was nothing to do with Brexit and gave some incomprehensible rambling reason involving the manager and back-office stores. Back home, Phil laughed at the ‘nothing to do with Brexit’ comment and predicted it would be a top mantra for 2021. We spent the rest of the day indoors. I placed an Ocado order, primarily to replenish alcohol supplies. Delivery would not be for a week and a half but it soon transpired I did it in the nick of time.
My nails were rather ugly from the lobster fiddling. Sunday, I trimmed the worst of the grime and tackled the manky nailbrush for which I invented a hack using vinegar, bicarb and a tee-pee brush. I spent the rest of the day working on blogs.
In the face of mounting pressure to keep schools shut another 2 weeks, Boris appeared on The Marr Insisting they were safe because kids didn’t get ill, omitting to mention the risk of spreading. In any case, they refused to re-open in some places including Leeds and Bradford. He said he could have shut everything down to stop the virus, begging the question, why he hadn’t! Warning tougher measures may be needed in the coming weeks, Keir urged him to do so immediately. Perhaps that was why The Bumbler’s address to the nation came a lot sooner than even I envisaged…
References:
i. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/
ii. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com
The Corvus Diaries 