Part 106 – Clownfall

“Too many people are losing the battle to keep a roof over their heads – struggling to pay rent and put food in their mouths…the next Prime Minister needs to get a grip on this crisis, and fast” (Polly Neate)

Liar, Liar!

Haiga – Disrupter

July 1st, I managed a full day out of bed, hung washing in sunshine and nipped in the art shop for an open studios brochure on the way to the co-op.  As I danced in the aisles to ‘The Chelsea Song’*, someone said “nice moves, Mary!”  I turned and smiled before recognising Bully Ex-neighbour.  That was the end of blanking her, then!  A rain shower eased as I walked back alongside Irish Neighbour who predicted it’d stop altogether when we got home.  Alas, it didn’t.  As it got wetter, Phil dashed out to fetch the laundry.  Sun returning, I started to peg it back, but darkening skies made me abandon the idea.  The Widower chatted to The Woman Next Door.  His unleashed dog roamed the street, weed near our door and jumped up to plant 2 matching muddy paw prints on my light summer jeans.  The Widower apologised and offered to wash them.  I said it was okay, then went in to rant and soak the jeans.

ONS estimated covid went up another 32%, with 1:35 infected in Yorkshire and 1:25 in Calderdale.  Prof Linda Bauld blamed holidaymakers returning from Portugal.  Shats unveiled a 22 point plan for air flights.  Scottish cops withdrew ‘goodwill’.  The work to rule was triggered by a ‘derisory’ offer of £564 extra pay.

Waking early with a cough Saturday, I sucked a pastille and fell back asleep.  Both tired, we stayed in.  Phil cut my hair and tackled the greasy kitchen then rested while I cleaned floors and went to the co-op for beer.  Bantering with My Mate at the kiosk, a woman randomly mentioned Crackerjack.  “It’s Friday, it’s 5 to 5…” I quoted. “Oops! I’m showing my age. I know I don’t look it!”  Hitherto cloudy, I strolled back in the gorgeous evening and stopped to chat with German Friend warming in sunshine outside her house.  Her next-door’s makeshift patio an improvement on the caravan, I desisted in calling it a bit gammon when she said they were nice neighbours.  Bemoaning a lack of parking space, set to worsen with the mill development, she planned to bring it up at their upcoming street party.  Wondering what good that would do, Phil agreed the fallacy it was a private street gave them delusions of authority!  The Woman Next Door had parked in the middle of our street.  When End Neighbour arrived, I banged on next door and faked fear of being run over as she backed up.  The Widower similarly struggled to park then discovered he’d brought the wrong keys out and had to enter a daft code to get spares from a box.  I stayed out to soak up rays, swept cobwebs off the window and lopped the rosebush to prevent eye pokes.

Arriva bus services resumed during talks but the strike was back on a week later.  1,000 confirmed cases, mostly in London, Pride revellers were told to stay home if they had monkeypox symptoms and vaccine was offered to contacts.

Quorn sausage instead of meat Sunday, felt like a treat.  That mightn’t last as farmers losing £30 per pig threatened to stop production.  Phil said “The government can’t admit Brexit’s a mess and there’s no money coming in through trade.” “What about VAT? If they don’t do something, it’ll be more costly when we all die of malnutrition!”  Bunman reckoned this was more of a health risk than the pandemic.

Bikers and Motley Folk

Phil having no luck job-hunting, I proposed offering IT skills to artists.  Open Studios a good place to start, we visited the main venues.  In the first, a woman created charming bird paintings and inspiring collages.  Phil offered to take photos of her pictures so she could sell prints online.  Mysteriously seeing nobody we knew in the next studio, we climbed steep steps to the upper art mill floors where Photography Friend chuckled: “About time you showed up!”  We discussed selling her greetings cards online and the trials of videoing.  Browsing jewellery, I was greeted by the silversmith who turned out to be End Neighbour’s daughter.

After visiting a couple of charity shops, we crossed a square busy with bikers and other motley folk to get pop, and supped it near the wavy steps.  Lads built a fort on duck island, a boy disgustingly picked up birdseed to hand-feed pigeons, and a misfit black and white mallard mixed with waterfowl until a dog splashed into the water.

It emerged Boris used a government jet to holiday in Cornwall last month.  An ill-briefed Thérèse Coffee-Cup was wheeled out to parrot Number 10 press office lines.  Most covid infections caused by the BA.5 Omicron subvariant, Thicko Dr. Jenny Harries resurrected the old ‘hands, face, space’ mantra, advised face-masks in busy indoor places and those with respiratory illnesses stayed home.  As Russia took control of Lysychansk and accused Ukraine of missile strikes on Belgorod, Gen Mark Milley made parallels between Russian invasions and Nazi Germany but NATO stronger than ever, didn’t think we were on the road to war.  Lord Brownnose allegedly got his knighthood for rescuing Bonny Prince Charlie’s daft Dumfries eco homes plan.

Iffy with twinges Monday, I resolved to not stay abed, posted a haiga, drafted blogs, and went to the co-op.  The Bonkers woman fretted with a friend over what she could afford for tea.  Things were bad if the middle classes were worried!  I eschewed pricey items for a low-cost top-up.  The young cashier very fast, I asked did he work at Lidl before? “No, kitchens.”  I dumped bags near the front door, filled the watering can from the outside tap and jumped at a “Hello Mary.”  I hadn’t seen The Woman Next Door on her doorstep.  It was hard to keep a straight face as she held a bonger in one hand and traced circles round her face with a tuning fork in the other.  Phil guessed it was some zen shit.  DIY tuning fork therapy, actually.  He was in stiches at a woman on Look North who clearly bought her furnishings from Noir: “And look at that gammon tan!”  Thinking he said ‘Gammantine’, I asked if that was a new décor style.

Having said they had no evidence, the BBC admitted 6 complaints against DJ Tim Westwood who police spoke to once.  Downing Street stated that aware of ‘reports and speculation’, Boris referred to the ex-whip as ‘Pincher by name, Pincher by nature’, but didn’t know of any substantiated allegations.  The National Gallery was evacuated when Just Stop Oil protesters superimposed an apocalyptic future vision onto Constable’s Haywain and glued themselves to the frame.  The next day, they augmented The Last Supper at the Royal Academy.  Motorists staged country-wide motorway go-slows.  Yorkshire cops deployed stingers and chilled-out Bristol cops provided an escort, but arrested 12 for blocking the Prince of Wales Bridge.  Due to local food costs, school caterers switched from chicken to turkey and beef to gammon, largely imported.  No fuel for teachers, Sri Lanka extended school closures another week.  Suspecting bird flu killed chicks on the Farne Isles, NT banned boat trips.  6 were massacred and 36 injured during a Chicago Independence Day parade.  Culprit and wannabee rapper Robert E. Crimo III posted cartoons of himself doing the shooting.

Waking frequently, I ended up oversleeping Tuesday.  Phil sorted stuff still in bags from Leeds and gave me a posh ruler for to-scale measuring: handy for all that model-building I did!  Feeling sleepy, I quit writing for active chores to be stymied by him nabbing the hoover.

Wage growth below inflation, The Resolution Foundation warned 1:4 people’s savings wouldn’t last a month if they lost their job.  Lynch told the RMT conference the current strike was the fight of a lifetime.  Offered 6%, Bosch Rexworth factory workers in Fife walked out.  High street coffee almost £3 a cup, Pret a Manger returned to profit.  Hundreds of BA flights cancelled, EasyJet COO Peter Bellew quit over chaos.  40% of travel insurance policies gave insufficient strike or covid cover.  At 7.00 a.m., former top FCO civil servant Lord Simon McDonald, published a letter telling Kathryn Stone Boris knew about The Pincher in 2019, belying claims allegations were ‘unsubstantiated’.  It was news to ex-foreign minister Rabid Raab.  Boris blathered to Chris Mason it was a mistake to make The Pincher a whip.  Barely sensical, he ‘tried to explain’ he was ‘focused on other things’.  Yeah! Saving your own skin!  MPs in constituencies over the weekend asked how many boys they’d touched up and ministers sick of looking stupid fire-fighting for their boss, Rishi and Goblin Saj resigned early evening.  The Goblin said: “I can no longer, in good conscience, continue to serve in this government.”  Rishi wrote: “The public rightly expect government to be conducted properly, competently and seriously.”  Nads Zahawi hilariously became Chancellor on the spot.  Tarzan Heseltine told Newsnight it was the end.  Instrumental in ousting Thatcher, he should know.  12 overnight resignations included solicitor general Alex Chalk.  Boris predictably phoned Vlod.

Again up late Wednesday, I worked on the journal and watched PMQs.  Keir said promoting The Pincher despite known predatory behaviour was serious; the PM handed him power and was propped up by a party defending the indefensible.  A ‘charge of the very light brigade’, we needed rid of the ‘zed list cast of nodding dogs’.  Boris reiterated labour had no plan, rudely pointed at the shadow cabinet and disbelieved Keir’s vow to not re-join the EU against the will of the people which had incensed Guardianistas.  Ian Blackford guffawed at Boris’ hope of 3 terms in office: “If a week is a long time in politics, 10 days is a lifetime.”  Instead of discussing the cost of living and Brexit, as usual, it was all about Boris.  Rather than the Monty Python Black Knight, he was the dead parrot.  Liz Saville said as the PM always put his political survival before the country’s interests, he was the best recruitment sergeant for independence they could wish for.  Tory backbenchers on the attack, was it time to do the decent thing and resign?  Lindsay Hoyle told applauding MPs they should be ashamed.  Delivering a resignation statement, Goblin Saj said he wasn’t one of life’s quitters, cared deeply about public service, it was a privilege to be trusted in a tough role, nothing mattered more than people’s health, and paid tribute to all in health and social care motivated by the national interest.  But they couldn’t allow division to become entrenched, treading a tightrope between loyalty and integrity was now impossible and it was unfair to be made to defend ‘lies’.  He’d given the benefit of the doubt over Partygate but enough was enough, problems started at the top, that wouldn’t change, and the choice to stay in the cabinet was an active decision.

Phil headed for Leeds and I for errands in nasty drizzle, getting inflated cough sweets and PJs, £1 crop pants to use for patches on worn-out ones, and DVDs in charity shops.  I stopped to reminisce with New Gran and Partner babysitting outside Corner Pub about when it resembled an after-school club.

The RCN said the end of special NHS covid leave showed how little the government cared about staff.  Hospitals re-introduced mask-wearing.  Unaware it’d gone away, did it explain last months’ dream?  On the day of the NI threshold rise, the pound dropped against the dollar.  38 resignations by teatime the most within 24 hours in history, a cabinet delegation plus Graham Brady, waited to tell the PM time was up, as he told the public liaison committee he was getting on with governing the country.  Refusing to go, he called the Glove-Puppet a snake and sacked him.  Reporters stood in Downing Street battling chants of ‘Boris out!’

On the market Thursday, a customer discussed lobsters with the fishmonger.  ”What about langoustines?” I asked, to get a tirade about the only Fleetwood trawler being foreign-owned.  I didn’t ask did he vote Brexit!  I continued onto the co-op after lunch, gardened in warm sun when Walking Friend came by on her way to town and invited me for a drink.  She sat on the bench while I cleared up and The Widower walked his shorn dog past.  “Has she had a haircut?”  In reply, he removed his hat to display a buzzcut. “That’s dramatic!”  I waited outside the pet shop then in a seething square while she erranded.  Cafés shutting, I consented to Corner Pub where New Gran and Partner promptly left.  “Typical! The one time I’m stopping!” I joked.  Walking Friend bought us pints and herself a nibble.  Saying she often sat home alone when not working or walking, I invited her for coffee anytime.  We’d left Phil doing a work for Alexa.  I texted ‘3 guesses’ to which he replied: ‘I only need 1!’  When he arrived, she insisted on buying another round while he ate her congealed garlic bread and made friends with a dog.  Behind on the drinking, he wanted another pint, then got hungry.  Her bus due, we bade thanks and goodbye.  Drowsy after the beer, sleep eluded me until tinnitus suddenly stopped and the world went quiet.

Reporters had reason to stand in Downing Street for once.  After a tsunami of 60 government resignations, Boris finally quit, as party leader, not PM.  Deflecting blame onto his colleagues, he hastily reshuffled cabinet into a ‘caretaker government’, promising no ‘major change of direction’ ‘til election of a new leader.  Phil remarked on the typical Britishness of The Pincher being the final straw after a tsunami of lies!  Andrea Jenkyns gave the finger on her way to become education minister.  “What a great example to young people!” I exclaimed. “It’s like a corrupt government of a loser country. They all need shoving against the wall!”  John Major said the PM should go immediately and Keir threatened a confidence vote if he didn’t. Leadership contenders reaching 11 within days, Boris didn’t endorse any in case it scuppered their chances.  Vlod sad, the EU were glad and hoped to ‘reset’ the relationship with the UK.  NCA arrested people-traffickers and seized dinghies and paraphernalia from warehouses across Europe.  Foreigners allowed at Hajj for the first time in 2 years, 1 million selected by lottery had to be under 65, vaccinated and test negative for covid.  Former Japanese PM Shinzo Abe was assassinated while campaigning and Rollerball legend James Khan died.

Erase and Rewind?

Haiga – Atmospherics

A knock on the door Friday signalled Walking Friend dropping off a promised item.  She asked was I alright after the pub.  “Yes and no; it was lovely but there was loads of stuff I didn’t get done.” “I know. We’ll plan it next time.”  Intending to go for a walk after I‘d draft-posted the journal, it was rather late and I still felt tired.  Instead, I raked leaves and helped Phil rescue confused bees.  Among the comings and goings, Decorating Neighbour asked if we knew anything about End Neighbour.  Meant to be holidaying, she had covid.  “I’ve no idea. Her daughter said nothing when we saw her Sunday”  After drinking rather a lot of wine, I slept reasonably well and had a long episodic dream involving weird office-related crap.

NatWest staff on under £32,000 offered a 4% rise, Unite said it was better than a one-off payment.  Oil prices up again, wind power was the cheapest ever.  Keir and Rayner were cleared of breaking covid laws during beergate.  Gammons whinged about woke Durham cops.  Yep, just like Bristol!

Woken by mild leg cramp and loud talking outside, I rose drowsily Saturday.  Making brekkie stressful in a cluttered kitchen even though I’d washed up Friday night, I wondered where the hell it all came from?  Phil related a mildly racist joke (actually tweeted by Alistair Campbell in April): An Englishman, an American and an Indian walk into a bar. The barman says, ‘the usual Mr. Sunak?’  Putting recycling out, Welsh Art Friend was collecting the baby from young neighbours’ house for an outing.  A recent operation explained her absence from Open Studios but she was recovering well.  Other artists we’d expected to see all had covid apparently.  We got lucky there after all the art events we’d attended recently!  She offered to put fliers up to promote Phil’s IT services when we got round to doing them.  A bit of a breeze made the warmth bearable enough to repeat my birthday walk during which we admired bright skies and blooms, ate pasties at the farm shop and gathered a few wimberries (see Cool Placesii).

Hardly any breeze, Sunday became hot.  Suffering dodgy guts, I wondered was it caused by the beer?  The cheap bacon tasty but 2 rashers short of a weekend, Phil said it sounded like I’d devised an expression.  Not the first neologism we’d invented.  The laptop proclaimed no internet.  I waited ages to send birthday greetings to a cousin, edit photos and write a haiga.  On the way back from the co-op, a couple of women on the street below who’d put water out for geese, were surrounded.  “You’ll never get rid of them now!” I chuckled.  Sitting on the garden bench, I saw a plate of mushrooms in front of the mini-greenhouse and asked The Woman Next Door on her step were they hers?  “Yes.” “What are they doing there?” “Drying.” “Well, I need access and they’re not in the sun.”  She moved them to her wall.  The way clear, I checked the celery to discover munched leaves and placed shards round the stalks to put the slugs off.  It didn’t.  Phil brought ancient chilli seeds out to pot and helped clear up.  A strange man laden with eggs and berries, visited The Woman Next Door.  He’d parked in the middle of street but guided him into a space before they went out.  “Who’s that?” asked Phil. “How the hell should I know?”  Seeing him early the next day, I speculated it was a boyfriend.  We ate lunch outside, dozed, and moved from shade to sun but still hot at 6, retreated indoors.  Exhausted, I wrestled with sleep in the hot, bright night and got up to gaze at stars, minimise the light, then tossed and turned to the meditation soundtrack.

On Politics North, new Levelling Up minister Lia Nici repeated the misogynistic slur that Rayner opened her legs in The House, leading to a row with Naz Shah.  Widely condemned, why hadn’t the presenter called Nasty Nici out on the spot?  Anticipating summer travel chaos, Operation Brock restarted in Kent.  After an interminable 2 weeks, Novax won the tennis.

Already sunny at 6.30 a.m. Monday, I opened the bathroom window to let a bug out and went back to bed.  interrupted my writing for a counter-signature on his high street store contract.  Assuring me scribing with the laptop touchpad was easy, my signature came out as a worse scrawl than usual!  We had better luck using the ipad.  I performed niggly chores, greeted Next Door and Strange Man and suppressed annoyance at a lack of help (Monday was often busy for Phil too).  Assembling various materials to clean a kitchen chair outside, whatever I tried, the blotches kept re-appearing.  Phil had a go during a break in google work but it looked worse than ever.  I decided the posh paint had gone funny, found nothing suitable in the coal-hole, searched fruitlessly online for new, and said I’d try locally.  Falling asleep outside during the longest heatwave for 50 years, I showered and rested on the bed.   Although muggy, I slept well that night.

Scotrail drivers agreed on 5% but Aslef voted for summer strikes.  A 24 hour Post Office strike with more predicted, bosses whinged they lost £1m a day due to bad relations.  Migrants carried a dinghy across a French beach and 442 later arrived in Kent.  Sick of criticism for providing a taxi service, the navy didn’t want to take the lead in dealing with channel crossings.  A covid lockdown shut all casinos in the Chinese gambling enclave of Macau.  The 1922 committee drew up leadership race rules.  Candidates needed the backing of 20 MPs and there’d be a new PM by 5th September.  Steve Barclay, tory party favourite Ben Wally, Goblin Saj (amidst tax evasion allegations), Grant Shats and unheard-of Rehman Chisti, dropped out, leaving 8 in the race Tuesday: Rishi Rich (releasing slick video Friday), Trussed-Up Liz, Tom Tughat, Penny Mordar (who withdrew her video when Johnny Peacock objected to inclusion), Kemi Babadook (who wanted to abolish teaching assistants because proles didn’t need educating), Swellen (saying she’d cut taxes as there were too many able people on benefits), The C**t and Nads Zahawi (amid yet more scandal).

Overcast but still warm, writing was hard Tuesday.  As head fug and achy eyes set in, I called a halt and went to town for errands and a boogie to radio 2 in the convenience store.  Two women queuing in front of me also jigged, remarking we didn’t go out dancing anymore.  Heading for what used to be the paint shop, I realised it was now an Asian food store.  I thought the fresh air would be invigorating but possibly due to mugginess, my head drooped as I plodded home.  Noisy all day, canal works finally packed in for 10 mins peace.  I measured the crop pants, cut material off the legs and made PJ patches.  Still fatigued, as the sun emerged early evening, we nipped outside for some vit. D and midge bites!

Every ambulance service on red alert, trusts declared a state of emergency due to covid admissions and the heatwave.  Meanwhile, Queenie awarded the NHS the George Cross.  May Parsons who administered the first covid jab, was among representatives from all 4 UK nations.  Heathrow told airlines to ‘stop selling summer tickets’.  Now lasting until 11th September, no wonder we could never find cheap deals anymore.  Mo Farah was praised for revealing he wasn’t a child refugee but a trafficked domestic slave.  The home office graciously announced they’d take no action but would investigate.  £1 now worth $1.19, the Euro fell to just below $1.  The war was blamed.  NASA showcased cosmic pictures by the James Webb space telescope.  The next day, the Chinese said they’d detected a FRB** like a heartbeat, in space.

Wednesday, Phil had an appointment for someone to collect his Leeds studio fridge.  I made him a bottle of pop to take and myself coffee and watched shenanigans.  On Daily Politics, Tony Danker, CBI wanted less business tax and Heather WTF Whately came out with the same old rubbish: ’I love Rishi!’  Pandemonium at the start of PMQs, Lindsay Hoyle shouted: ‘shut up! order, order!’  Alba MPs Neale Hanvey and Kenny Macaskill were marched out of the chamber to murmurs of insurrection.  Keir suggested a demob happy PM free of shackles, could say what he truly thought and forget about following the rules, so was it time to scrap non-dom status?  Boris not changing his response, Keir went onto a ‘simpler question’ concerning offshore schemes letting people avoid tax.  The Bumbler bizarrely responded any of the leadership candidates could wipe the floor with ‘captain crasherooney snoozefest‘.  What was the clown on?  Keir persisting on the tories benefiting from tax scams, Boris spouted lies about tax and benefits to a line of nodding dogs on the front bench wearing white and green Srebrenica flowers.  Ian Blackford boringly made no jokes.

Warmth tempered by a breeze, I ate lunch outside, cleaned under the garden bench and chatted to a woman walking her elderly cat.  Interminable beeping stopped just in time for a rest.  Considering going outside again, Phil’s head loomed at the window.  I opened the door and replenished the coffee.  He followed me to the kitchen, doing my head in jabbering excitedly about his new mate and using the music studio for his photography.  About to work on the journal, he asked for assistance making videos for a google work, set up a white screen, screwed his phone on a large tripod and taught me how to record.  Quick when it worked, a faff when it didn’t, we called a halt for dinner.

Bereaved families called 200,000 covid deaths ‘a damning milestone’.  Resolution Foundation found the richest 10% of Brits owned 29% of disposable income.  Only Greece and Cyprus had worse economic deterioration.  BOE told banks to double the buffer in case of hardship.  Wetherspoons lost £30m – nowt to do with Brexit, eh Tim!  The SCE monster was installed in an old lido on Weston beach as part of Unboxed.  Formerly known as the Festival of Brexit, there was no mention of Brexit!  An extreme weather warning extended to next Tuesday, the army set fire to Salisbury Plain, competing with French and Iberian wildfires.  Official buildings and posh homes invaded, instead of resigning, the Sri Lankan president fled, appointed the PM acting president, declared a state of emergency, and a curfew in the western region encompassing Colombo.  Protestors then overtook the PM’s compound as grim-faced police fired tear gas and water cannons.  The gold walls of a politician interviewed on Newsnight looked pricey enough to cover the national debt.  A French inquiry concluded Liverpool fans weren’t to blame for the Paris match debacle 28th May.

Blooming Buddleia

In the co-op Thursday, a few extras brought me above budget but I got free redcurrants from the community garden wall and saw a ringed butterfly for the first time.  Storing groceries, I noticed we were low on essentials which I should’ve bought instead of luxuries.  Irked by another Windows update leading to lack of productiveness and being indoors on a sunny afternoon, I announced I was going to the park.

Descending the steps reminded Phil he’d seen geese ascend the previous evening.  I thought they used the zebra crossing!  Today, they were all on the church lawn.  We walked along the blooming towpath, where even the island below the aqueduct was festooned.  The park busy after school, we bought café ice creams and squatted on stools to munch and watch an entourage of kids pursuing cyclists dressed as sloths.  AS they packed up, I discovered they were advertising for festival work.  Taking a long route home, we stopped to admire a buddleia when an old art classmate walked by.  She stopped to chat further up.  Back home, we took coffee outside and Phil fixed pegs while I faffed with a rickety folding chair before extricating broken pots from overgrown ivy.  Next Door But One put currants on Next Door’s folding table, explaining the mystery.  The Woman Next Door told me about the new age therapy stuff she was studying and the value of ‘precious’ wimberries and came to look at a frog on the edge of the open compost bin.  I called Phil to do a rescue but it disappeared in the ivy.

Hit the Ground

Haiga – Sky Dancer

Having given up the night before, editing photos and blogging was thankfully faster Friday.  As I prepared to clean the bathroom, Phil nabbed the hoover for the attic.  Sick of tripping over photography gear, I offered to help sort the clutter but he insisted on doing some cleaning first.  Dumping dead flowers in warm drizzle (did that count as rain on St Swithin’s?), the sun came out when I went back in.

1:18 infected, JCVI advised autumn boosters be offered to the clinically vulnerable, health & care workers and the over 50’s.  About time!  A TUC study revealed the UK had the worst ‘real wage squeeze’ of all G7 countries.  Unite’s Sharon Graham said employers making huge profits must pay workers more.  On the first televised tory leadership debate, Tom Tughat was the only one who agreed Boris wasn’t honest.  The others evaded the question.  Asked did they trust politicians, not one audience member raised a hand.  Not from Bury market then!  Accused of lying over self-ID by Babadook, Mordor got in a muddle.  Only capable of working from script, she proved to be quite thick beneath the veneer, supporting  Lord Frosty’s claim she was useless!  A red ‘extreme heat’ weather warning prompted Downing Street to declare a national emergency for next week.  Phil snorted: “this country is lame!”

He got to the kitchen after I’d broken my Saturday brekkie egg and commented cooking eggs was quick.  Yeah, when someone else has done all the work! I thought.  Warm sun tempered by  a breeze, we went on a foraging walk before the dangerous red heat arrived.  Popping in the co-op, we stalked the aisles for 3 for 2 snack food which had moved.  My Mate at the kiosk said something derogatory about an old man who always wore cowboy gear.  “Be nice!” I admonished and let him serve The Cowboy first before he whinged about the coming heatwave.  “Are you working? It’s cool in here.”  “Yes but it’s getting here.”  We ascended fields to a lane lined with wimberry shrubs, picked, munched pastries and admired views before discovering an easier way down (See Cool Placesii).  Recovering from the exertions, Phil complained he was too hot.  “What do you expect?” I admonished, “You don’t drink water or wear a hat or shades.”

An effort to get going Sunday, I composed a haiga and improvised redcurrant relish.  Phil sorted attic stuff.  Allegedly still too cluttered for me to go up, I helped dispose of boxes.  Cooler and cloudy to start, he reiterated the red heat warning was a load of pants but it became fiercely sunny in the afternoon.  We ate lunch al fresco and stayed out a couple of hours, avoiding buzzing bees.  An old art teacher came past with his dog.  He’d semi-retired and passed on event co-ordination to The Printer, and admin to Welsh Art Friend.  As he knew them both, it was definitely worth Phil sticking up fliers.

Boris accused of partying and going up in an RAF tornado instead of chairing cobra meetings, Rayner said he should step down now.  The home office select committee found the Rwanda ploy no deterrent.  Labour shortages predicted to cost the economy £30bn a year, there were calls to reset Brexit.  How did that work?  2 billion vaccinated, covid cases rose in India to a 4-month high of 20,528.  The second leadership debate on ITV an hour of in-fighting, the third due to air on Sky was cancelled when Rishi Rich and Trussed-Up declined to take part.  10 armed robbers raided the Apple store in Covent Garden.

After an unusually good night’s sleep, I donned minimal clothing Monday, did small chores, saved dumped items near the recycling and undrunk tea (very nice with ice and lemon on the very hot day), and posted the haiga.  The co-op top-up cheap, My Mate was keeping cool but feared travelling home.  Phil interrupted my afternoon writing by melodramatically declaring a sink blockage.  Fizzing the crud of limited effect, a plunger worked marvellously.  Still boiling after a cold shower, resting was impossible but it was comfortable enough to sit out by 7.  I asked The Widower how he was faring.  Okay so far, he dreaded grandchild’s grad ceremony in Manchester the next day.

ONS data showed when 9.4% inflation was taken into account, pay fell the fastest March-May since records began.  Wages grew in the public sector by only 1.5% as opposed to 7.2% in the private sector.  Public sector pay offers between 4 and 5%, and no extra cash for the NHS, doctors, dentists and cops would get the most.  The labour motion rejected as it would’ve forced tories to state they had confidence in Boris to avoid a general election, the government won another, strangely brought by themselves.  Boris accused Keir and ‘the deep state’ of plotting to reverse Brexit.  What conspiracy site had he been on?  Keir said the delusion was never-ending.  On the 10th day of temperatures above 400C, forest fires surrounded a train in Zamora, Spain.  The UK heatwave brought record highs to Wales, slower trains on buckled rails, car breakdowns, power cuts, grounded RAF jets at Brize Norton and planes at Luton due to a ‘heat incident’ (aka melting tarmac).  The ‘common sense’ brigade on Jeremy Vine joined by Charlie Mullet from his Spanish villa, guffawed at TUC advice to work from home.  Notts cop chief Caroline Henry was banned from driving.  Vlod sacked 60 alleged spies from the Ukrainian security service and SBU.

25.90C overnight on Emley Moor, Tuesday started hot.  Glare making computer work hard, I climbed step ladders to tape a space blanket over the window.  Ineffective, Phil’s reflector worked better.  A sirocco-type wind hit me as I opened the door; so scorching I needed a hat to put washing out!  It was bone-dry by early afternoon.  Phil stood in the full-on heat then sat on the bench and played plinky holiday music on his phone while I squatted on the doorstep enjoying a breeze on my neck until sweating, I retreated indoors.  Phil declared even the shade too hot and pinned up the crops for me to make shorts.  As the sun disappeared, the temperature dropped a few degrees but still warm and oppressive, southern showers freakily evaporated before reaching the ground.

Unsurprisingly, records were smashed all over.  370C here, Bramham recorded 400C, Coningsby, Lincs. 40.3 and Aysgarth Falls ran dry.  Wildfires sparked major incidents in Sheffield and London where the fire service had their busiest day since WW2 and combusted horse poo in a compost heap engulfed houses in Wennington.  Felled overhead powerlines at Peterborough halted East Coast mainline trains.  Shats admitted the network couldn’t cope.  Temperatures in Spain down to 390C, they reached 41 in France.  Tughat was knocked out of the leadership race in the third round of voting and Babadook in the fourth.  At his last cabinet meeting, Boris got a leaving gift of Winston Churchill war books and declared himself great.  Keir called him a ‘bullshitter’.

Having coped with the mega heatwave, hot flushes and sweats woke me at 5 a.m. Wednesday.  It took a while to shake off wooziness.  Contrary to predictions, Boris turned up for the last PMQs before summer jollies.  Confidence in politicians at an all-time low, Kim Leadbeater wanted to know what advice he’d give to his successor?  Boris replied he’d use the next few weeks to drive forward the agenda of uniting and levelling up and that was why they’d win again. Staying on to party and holiday more like!  Keir followed up with another question of trust to which Boris waved his arms like a loon and called labour pointless plastic bollards round roadworks, with no plans of their own while the tories were outlawing wildcat strikes.  Eh? They were already illegal!  After falsely bragging of the ‘fastest economic growth in the G7’, his parting words were ‘hasta la vista, baby’.  Heaven forfend!

Misfit Mallard

Extreme heat over but still warm, we went out for fresh air, unintentionally retraced the Crossings Workshop walk and caught a glimpse of the misfit mallard (See Cool Placesii).

A women’s health strategy intended to address a range of issues with no money.  Shats advised Doncaster council took over Robin Hood airport from Peel Group like in Teesside.  As EDF got the go-ahead to build Sizewell C, five Just Stop Oil protestors who climbed gantries on the M25 were arrested.  Mordor dropped, 160,000 tory members would choose between Rishi and Trussed-Up Liz.  36% aged 50-64 and 39% over 65, a tribe of ageing gammons would decide our next PM.  Trussed-Up said she’d ‘hit the ground’.  If only!

Fine drizzle late evening made for a fresher start Thursday.  Leaden skies presaged fine afternoon sprinkles.  By 5 p.m., it was as dark as winter.  I drafted blogs and headed to the co-op, spotting an old pub mate for the 3rd time in 2 weeks and scored the free trolley.  Fridge failures during the heatwave meant literally not a sausage in the reduced meat section.  I weaved past geese pecking at the odd green shoot amid still-dry moss between cobbles on the street below.  I could only discern the youngers by dark patches on burgeoning wings and a squeak rather than a squawk.  Walking Friend came round as arranged.  We perused the old maps we’d found on a street corner, discussed the heatwave and Phil offered to look at her maintenance issues next week.  She proposed drinks at the community pub afterwards.  When she spotted our wall clock still showed GMT, Phil decided to alter it.  She took her leave and I apologised for being boring.  “You’re not boring.” “Yes we are. Doing domestics!”  Rest impossible with beeping machinery, revving engines and screeching kids, exhaustion, tummy ache and hot flushes made me thoroughly miserable by bedtime, leading to fitful sleep and hazy dreams.

Baroness Harlot promised lessons would be learnt to inform future pandemics, in a ‘fair and robust’ covid inquiry.  Witnesses compelled to submit evidence from September, public hearings would start next spring.  Did she want satirical qualitative data?  Testing positive for covid, Uncle Joe was doing ‘well’ isolated in the White House and taking anti-viral Paxlovid.  State borrowing at an all-time high and consumer Tory leadership contenders focused on the economy.  Rishi concentrated on balancing the books but Trussed-Up promised a different path, saying he and previous chancellors didn’t deliver growth, even though she’d previously endorsed their policies.  Examining her pledges against a backdrop of inflation, low growth and high taxes, IFS found reversing the NI rise, cancelling the planned corporation tax rise and a moratorium on the green energy levy would cost a total of £34bn; (£4bn above current budget targets).  A report by chief inspector of borders and immigration David Neel, said the home office response to the surge in channel crossings was poor, 200 absconded within 4 months of arrival and vulnerable migrants were left at risk in processing centres.  As the government published its critical minerals strategy and gave Pensana £850m from the automotive transformation fund, Kwasi Modo visited the Salt End rare earth plant in Hull.  Netflix lost 970,000 subscribers April-June.  Subs up, maybe they shouldn’t have made their most expensive film ever, The Grey Man, wherein Ryan Gosling globe-trots and wrecks Prague.

Pride Comes Before A Fall

Haiga – Way Off Course

After cold showers all week, we luxuriated in baths Friday.  I blogged while Phil spent an age getting through to Vodaphone.  It was worth the wait to get unlimited texts, calls and data, for less money.  Head fug setting in, I abandoned writing for a spot of housework.  Chilly and darkly grey, fine rain made the crows soggy and us chilly by early evening.

As it was revealed he paid himself via tax haven assets from his hedge fund, Rishi faced more questions over his finances.  Meanwhile, Trussed-Up said being a Lib Dem and supporting remain was a mistake and leaving the EU had been a huge success.  The start of the summer holidays, BA staff offered an 8% rise called off industrial action, an accident on the M20 led to 14-hour queues and The Port of Dover declared a ‘critical incident’.  The French blamed for ‘woefully inadequately resourcing’ 100% checks leading to 4-hour waits to clear customs, they in turn blamed a glitch in the Eurotunnel.  Authorities there said it had nowt to do with it.  The benefits of Brexit, eh, Liz?  An ‘emotional’ Antonio Guterres brokered a deal between Russia and Ukraine to alleviate the grain crisis.  Hours later, Russian missiles hit Odesa.  Ukraine vowed to get the grain out regardless.  Gazprom re-started Nord Stream 2 gas deliveries, at 30% of previous levels.

Saturday morning, I wasn’t sure if vertigo was from moderate drinking, a manifestation of fatigue or illness.  Both flaky, we stayed home watching Midsomer Murders as there was nowt else on telly.  I took recycling out and shared health issues with Decorating Neighbour who sympathised with me.  Better himself, he was back working which was good.  I worked on the new shorts until my fingers became sore from sewing.  After dinner, Phil ran to the shop for tonic, only finding lemonade to go with gin.

A rise of 7% rather than 30%, marked the start of a dip in the latest covid wave.  On BBC Breakfast, Doctors Bauld and Smith told us 1/3 were reinfections.  According to the WHO, subvariants BA.4 and 5 had been rising since June.  Figures released later exposed 810 covid deaths the last week of July, the smallest increase since June.  An Antipodean flu epidemic was unsurprising after their extended lockdowns.

Fine rain interspersed with sun Sunday, I searched for rainbows.  Seeing none, I got knobbly veg and joked with a fellow punter my cabbage would be a good Midsomer Murder weapon: “You could eat the evidence! I watch far too much of them.”  “I’m not judging!” chuckled the young server.  Stopping to redistribute heavy bags on the way home, I risked being run over when an onion rolled behind a reversing car and saw a ‘we are open’ sign at the erstwhile grocers.  Sure I heard voices, Phil went out early evening to be offered a sausage roll by crusty vegans.  Opinions divided on the local Facebook page, some said the squat was earmarked as a café bar or ice cream parlour, and others that disturbed asbestos made it unsafe.

Queuing to enter the Eurotunnel, 600 lorries waited for up to 15 hours.  A fire on Lenham Heath was visible from the M20.  Bill Alexander bravely ploughed a firebreak in a fellow farmer’s spring barley crop to stop the flames getting any further.  Trussed-Up and Rishi Rich (in Grantham) said the Rwanda ploy was a good idea.  Both seeking to emulate Thatcher, albeit from different eras, Keir laughed at ‘Thatcherite Cosplay’.

Still wobbly Monday, I posted a haiga and blocked a heap of American military trolls stacked up in Facebook ‘friend requests’.  Taking rubbish out, the trellis had collapsed again and fell to bits when I picked it up.  I yelled for Phil to do a quick bodge.  Carrying the lunch tray, I tripped and fell forward on the kitchen steps.  Screaming, I managed to keep hold and avoid breakage.  Phil asked if it was a flip-flop related incident. “It’s a first if it is.”  Fuming he hadn’t asked if I was hurt, I said I hated Mondays.  “Why?” “They’re shit! There’s always loads to do and then even more on top of that!” ”I don’t like them either.” “So why are you asking?” “Trying to be helpful.” “Well, its’ not!”  I wiped a splotch off my jeans and rolled the leg up.  Expecting a bruised knee, I found an angry graze which bled when cleaned it.

A health & social care committee workforce report said with over 99,000 vacancies in the NHS and 105,000 in social care, the government failed to plan or take decisive action.  A rise in childhood hepatitis in 35 countries was linked to covid lockdowns as kids hadn’t built up immunity to 2 common viruses.  OBR calculated Brexit cost the economy £50 billion so far.  Still in denial, Brexiteers on Jeremy Vine claimed we already had to get passport stamps when we were in the EU.  Not for France we didn’t!  The C**t said it was revenge for mucking up plans of a united Europe.  As Tory gammons called for Boris to be put on the ballot paper, the BBC staged a head-to-head debate in red wall Stoke.  Rishi criticised Trussed-Up’s idea to delay tax rises by not paying off covid debts for 3 years, as it’d lose them the next election.  Keir seemed to agree, calling Trussed-Up the latest graduate from the school of ‘magic money tree economics’ and pledged a new Industrial Strategy Council to bring economic growth, proving he was just as much a global capitalist as the rest of the wankers.  Confusion over whether this meant they’d ditch nationalisation, shadow ministers Rachel Reeves and Sam Tarry waded in.  Keir later confirmed rail would become public as contracts ran out, but not utilities, as that meant paying compensation, according to We Own It.  If you thought it was bad the Blackpool illumination red Indian display was only just junked, an arcade game allowed players to sit on a horse and shoot them.  Calling it a ‘legacy piece’, it was removed from Weston’s Grand Pier after Emily Crossing complained.   Eurovision 2023 would be staged in the UK.  Quite right, seeing as we should’ve won!

Feeling thoroughly crap and tearful Tuesday, Phil commiserated and agreed HRT might be a good idea.  Menopause symptoms compounded by money worries, it was hard to concentrate and after snapping at him over a daft niggle, I admitted the anger was really about the dire financial situation.  After some harsh words, we managed to calm down to share thoughts and feelings, discuss options, laugh and hug.  Seeing a payment from BG on a bank statement, I checked the energy account to find the small amount was for leccy and DD was slightly reduced, but gas payments were set to treble!  I called and spoke to a barely intelligible man, eventually getting it down to double.  The GP surgery only taking emergency calls in the morning, I rang after lunch and was offered an appointment next week 4 miles away.  I didn’t even know the place!  An ‘embargo’ on local appointments, I asked what did I need to do to get one?  Phone at 8 and ‘pretend’ it’s urgent!  Thinking intense night-time itching was an insect bite, the discomfort extended to other areas which felt hot even though I couldn’t see anything.

The driest summer since 1976 and the driest July since 1836 in the South East, the National Drought Group met urgently and asked customers to use less water to avoid restrictions.  Another head-to-head leaders’ debate on Talk TV was halted when host Kate McCann feinted; or fell into a coma at the sheer inanity of Truss and Rishi!  He later hinted at a U-turn on energy VAT.  IMF growth forecasts were downgraded to 2.9% globally, 1.2% for the Eurozone, 1% in the USA and .5% in the UK because of gas prices and ‘lack of investment in skills and infrastructure’.  Only Russia worse, so much for Boris’ hubris!  As Italy planned to spend an extra £12bn shielding consumers from energy costs, the EU rationed gas.

Hearing a moth waking early Wednesday, I saw no sign of it.  Itchiness persisting, Phil said that was why he never lied about medical urgency in case it came true!  I fetched brekkie and rang the GPs.  19th in the queue, I eventually spoke to a receptionist.  About to book me the last slot at the local surgery, he exclaimed: “Oh, it’s just gone!” and arranged an advice call.  The duty doctor agreed the symptoms may be menopausal but advised blood tests to rule out anything else before considering HRT.  Which of course meant ringing back after 2.  Being told to use antihistamines and cream, I took a pill, applied E45 (of limited help) and caught up on housework.  I helped Phil design a flier for his artist’s services.  “I enjoyed that,” I said. “What?” “Working together on something. Far more constructive than arguing.” “True.”  Walking Friend not replying to a text, I called her to hear strange noises.  About to go up regardless, my mobile rang but there was nothing at the other end.  She then phoned from her landline.  Informed she’d have no internet all day, that evidently meant no service at all.  At her house, me and her chatted while Phil sorted maintenance issues.  She asked if we wanted to go for beer.  Too weary for the pub, instead, we drank freshly-ground espresso and arranged tea at ours followed by a pint Sunday.  Bedtime reading was disturbed by noisy drunkards and a large moth fluttering on the lamp.  The pesky blighter must’ve been there all day!

Spending not tracked and only 2% of international arrivals quarantined having covid, The PAC found it was impossible to know if the traffic lights system was worth £486m of taxpayers’ money.  They also reported that £777m covid testing contracts awarded to Randox didn’t follow basic procedures and officials did nothing to address potential conflicts of interest even though they knew Owen Pattycake had direct contact with The Cock.  Randox called their conclusions ‘deeply flawed and wrong’.  Joining RMT pickets in the latest rail strikes, shadow transport minister Sam Tarry was sacked.  Keir claimed it was over unauthorised media appearances.  Owen Jones spluttered he’d had enough of Waitrose Boy Keir and John McDonnell said it was time for co-ordinated action (aka a national strike).  People incensed at Maccy D price rises, I thought they were far too cheap anyway and we had bigger things to worry about, such as the practice of deducting money from UC payments to pay off debts which the Joseph Rowntree Foundation wanted scrapped.

Let Them Drink Boke!

Knackered and sweaty from cleaning the bedroom Thursday, I was forced to go to the co-op to replenish basics, where the usual foray proved even more stressful and time-consuming as they’d shifted stock and hid gaps with beer and cola – let them drink boke!  The freezer deal costing more than expected, on the way out, I realised it was now 6 items for a fiver.  Only 5 in the cabinet, I returned to the till and was told with carte d’or sold out, I was meant to have 2 Vienetta.  “I’ll take it!”  A palaver ensued of scanning for a refund, then again with the 6 items.  Having seen the window cleaners’ van, I thought ours weren’t due but on slogging home, the house front was dripping.  Phil said they insisted it was our turn.  I raged at the inconvenience and he said I was hangry. 

We ate a hasty lunch, then Walking Friend rang to say she had a problem Sunday.  “Oh. I’ve just bought the stuff.” “I can still come for tea, but not the pub.” {What a shame – not!} “Come eat Vienetta!”  After lodging a complaint to the co-op about shifting stock and amending it for a ‘Tales’ blogiii, I railed at lack of productiveness and looked for a late summer holiday let, eventually finding a bargain.  Paying a low deposit, they cheekily took the balance the next day.  Trying to rest, it dawned on me the window cleaners were right.  Aware it was daft, I couldn’t stop fretting and sent them a straight-forward apology via Facebook.  Their reply shirty, I reiterated it was a genuine mistake on our part and added a smiley face.  Very itchy at bedtime, I researched DIY treatments and tried intensive hand cream containing glycerine which worked immediately.  I later discovered sensitive bodywash helped too.

2 separate scientific studies found ‘compelling evidence’ 2 coronavirus variants originated at the Wuhan fish market late 2019.  With 4 asymptomatic cases, Jiangxi district re-entered lockdown.  Announcing £5.1bn quarterly revenue on the eve of a 2-day strike, CWU accused BT of ‘gaslighting’.  Of 74,230 households homeless or at risk, 10,560 worked fulltime.  Shelter’s Polly Neate said record-high rents and crippling bills sent people working every hour, ‘over the edge’.  She called on the new PM to ‘get a grip,’ unfreeze housing benefit and build decent social homes with rents pegged to local incomes, to end homelessness for good.  Maybe they could live in the Saudi Line – the vertical city to house 9 million resembled a dystopian sci-fi.

Sleep disrupted by anxiety and discomfort, I was on the verge of tears Friday.  Sure the itchiness was menopausal, Phil said I should’ve had HRT years ago. “Look who’s talking, Captain Hindsight!“  I added graphics to Phil’s flier and printed a draft.  Puzzled by sizing issues, we gave up and went to town, finding cough drops had gone up again, as had sweet bags.  Sweet Shop Man explained the bags were bigger to fit labels on, for which the printer cost a staggering 3 grand.  Phil loitered while I stood in a slow Boots queue.  2 crusties (perhaps from the squat) mocked middle-class vegans (look who’s talking!)  The cashier served 1 customer and handed over change at snail’s pace.  I abandoned my items and stormed out.  “Surprised you lasted that long!” Laughed Phil.  Sitting riverside, we discussed posters on the old grocers inciting the squatting of Air BnB’s.  Town awash with 200, was it practical?  Were they businesses or residential?  Back home, we solved the flier misprint by converting the file format.  Flitting between laptop and printer, the pocket of my combats ripped when it caught on the sofa arm.  Just as I’d finished a pile of stitching!

ONS estimated 1:20 people had coronavirus in the week up to 20 July, compared to 1:17 the week before.  Hospital admissions decreased from 18.2 per 100,000 to 16.3.  Centrica profits 1.3bn, Shell £11.5bn and BP £6.9bn, details of fuel bill rebates revealed we’d get £66 off direct debits October and November, then £67 until March.  Martin Lewis said the zombie government should do more and the rich bragged about the size of their bills.  AQA began strike action, potentially affecting the release of exam results.

Saturday greyly mizzly, we predicted soggy dressing up at Pride Party in the Park.  Otherwise, we’d have gone to see the Kate Bush tribute.  Instead, I cleared piles of clutter in the kitchen and stitched the combats.

Sleep interrupted by raucous drunks at 3 a.m. Sunday, I stuck earplugs in, rose flushed and crampy, fetched tea and noted chilli plants on the kitchen windowsill needed thinning out.  Looking for space to put them, I saw paper peeling from the living room ceiling and chunks of plaster on the sofa.  I yelled up to Phil who cleared the plaster lumps, googled DIY fixes, ruminated over supplies and made the ceiling safe until he could get to a trad hardware shop in the next village .  I moved furniture so we could sit on the sofa, washed and air-dried a stinky throw and picked crocosmia for a kitchen vase before a trip to the co-op.  The normal scant affair, I searched for wines to use a member discount.  Seeing none, I got cheap plonk.  I swept up dust, showered and changed and reinstalled the throw, enjoying the late sun’s warmth before a lovely evening with Walking Friend during which we ate, drank and exhausted our 1970’s CD music collection.

Rishi Stabbing Boris

Resignation honours a list of donors, JCB tory donor Lord Bamford hosted a belated wedding party for Boris and Carrie.  Steve Bray stood outside Daylesford House with a banner reading: ‘corrupt tory government’.  Dreadful Doris was lambasted for re-tweeting a pic of Rishi stabbing Boris in the back.

It was revealed the Prince of Wales charitable trust accepted donations from the Bin Laden family, leading to more questions.  Giving no details of how they’d violated conditions of purchase, Gazprom suspended Latvia’s gas supply.  England beat Germany 2-1 in the Women’s Euro Final.  Winland academy advertised jobs on LinkedIn to write applications for Chinese students.  A shame they were caught; I could do that!

Thanks for reading Corvus Diaries. Updates will follow later in the year.

Hasta La Vista!

*The Liquidator, Harry J Allstars

**Frequent Radio Burst

References:

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

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

iii. Tales From The Co-op Notes on life, the universe and stuff that sucks: Tales from the Co-op Vol 5 (maryc1000.blogspot.com)

Part 103 – Ship Of Fools

“(They) broke the law and took us all for mugs. If they had any decency they would be gone by tonight” (Lobby Akinnola)

April Fools

Haiga – Threshold

The world ran by a bunch of fools, we didn’t mark the 1st of the month with April Fools jokes.  The grocery bill was mercifully not too hefty but the bags were.  I cursed not asking for Phil’s help lugging them home.  Motivated by persons unknown sweeping the steps at the side of the house, I cleared the gutter Saturday, failing to unblock the end.  Cloudy all weekend, at least it didn’t rain during the free Crossings walk and workshop Sunday.  In the art shed carpark, The Leader made introductions and dished out notebooks.  We set off on familiar paths, noting a profusion of daffodils absent from the riverside 2 weeks ago, along with wood anemones.  Returning on the lesser-travelled Crows path, a walker’s action volunteer related its rescue from developers by residents 12 years ago.  Back at base, we got free tea and cake.  Amazed such project funding still existed, Phil ate 3 pieces.  The workshop proved inspiring although I remained sceptical about the over-use of descriptions.  Featuring heavily in creative writing these days, I suspected it featured in university courses.  Later, I selected photos for the project showcase including a haiga.i

The covid rate at 1:13, Prof Naismith said we were all likely to have BA.2 by summer.  Easter hols starting for some, chaos ensued at ferry terminals and airports.  Officially blamed on absence and covid checks, the shortages were also due to furloughed staff leaving.  Security checks on 220 new recruits awaited, passengers missed flights at Manchester airport and boss Karen Not-So-Smart resigned.  45 buses and 2 Red Cross trucks headed to besieged Mariupol.  Evacuation underway at last, a photo-journalist got shot.  The Pope criticised ‘dictatorial leaders’ and said the world couldn’t ignore the migrant crisis.  As the Oscars academy continued with disciplinary procedures, Will Smith resigned.

Barely able to move Monday morning, after 10 minutes stretching, I got back in bed.  Phil looked offended when I didn’t laugh at his larks but I felt too awful.  I made a big effort to fetch coffee and the laptop.  Going up and downstairs exhausting, pains shot through my head and I became tearful.  Covid infections still rising, the list of symptoms now included fatigue, exhaustion, aching, headaches, sore throats, shortness of breath, blocked or runny nose, loss of appetite, diarrhoea and nausea.  So all of them!  Wondering if I had it, Phil reckoned they were symptoms of living in England.  In fact, additions were to stop people going to work with flu.  Feeling overwhelmed by a ‘to do’ list, I posted the haiga, dispatched photos for the showcase, and worked on blogs.  Except mealtimes, I stayed abed for 3 dull days.

5-11 year olds were offered low dose jabs.  Oil terminal blockades by Just Stop Oil and XR into a third day, 100 protestors were arrested in Kingsbury.  Lucy Powell called the privatisation of Channel 4 ‘cultural vandalism’.  Tracy Brabin feared for Leeds jobs and ‘We Own It’ told Dreadful Doris to keep her hands off.

Less head pain and a bit cheerier Tuesday, I posted an entry on Cool Placesii , stopping writing when head fug set in.  Phil went to the co-op.  Another power cut meant no fresh milk or veg.

The covid Situation in Shanghai ‘extremely grim’, citizens suffered lockdowns and online food shortages.  After visiting Bucha, Vlod addressed the UN security council, saying the worst war crimes since WW2 merited Nuremberg-style trials.  Russian rep Vasily Nebenzya dismissed footage as fake and pro-Putin broadcaster Vlad Solovyov said they chose the name because it sounded like butcher.  Red paint was poured in the propagandist’s Italian villa pools.  Back after a glitch, Jeremy Vine appeared with hand-written signs. As Cuadrilla were given another year to explore fracking in Lancashire, Mike Gammon claimed reports of tremors were Russian propaganda.  Err, no, it’s you believing in conspiracy nonsense!

Eking the last of the fresh milk, Phil made porridge on Wednesday and went to the other shop.  Working on ‘Home from Home’ (see Cool Places 2iii) took most of my day.  After ineffectual quiet time, I went to the kitchen and panicked when I saw no milk, then spotted it in a bag.  Prepping dinner together a bit fraught, I left him to it and dossed on the sofa.  As he sent off photos for the showcase, he asked me to check details but I said it was far too late to think and went back to bed.

While Boris defended the National Insurance rise to fund the NHS and Goblin Saj pressed patients to return, 6 Yorkshire hospitals warned them to stay away from A&E, unless dying.  In the latest sanctions, the UK added 8 Russian oligarchs to the list, froze Sberbank and Credit Bank of Moscow’s assets, banned outward investment and iron and steel imports, and vowed to stop coal imports by the end of the year.  Sanctioning Russian PM Mikhail Mishustin and Putin’s 2 daughters Maryia Putina and Katerina Tikhonova, the US also cut off links with Sberbank as well as Alfa Bank.

Better but lacking energy Thursday, we were sat on the sofa when Phil noticed a reply from the Crossings workshop leader, even though he’d only sent his photos the night before.  I was incensed until I saw she’d e-mailed me too.  Supplies low, I headed to the market in the nithering wind.  What a load of rubbish!  No loo roll or fish, I got a few veg and went in the convenience store to find reduced chicken and bacon, so not a completely wasted trip.

The energy strategy mainly featured hydrogen, offshore wind and nuclear power.  Great British Nuclear had a target to fulfil 25% of demand by 2060, building a power station a year.  There was a £30m competition to make heat pumps, and a new round of licensing for north sea oil and gas from autumn, despite UN calls for rapid cuts in fossil fuel use.  Onshore wind unpopular, it was encouraged with discounts for affected communities.  Keir called it too little too late and: “a cobbled together list of things that should have been done over the last 10 to 12 years…(and) doesn’t even tackle important things like insulating homes…”  Kwarteng had already ordered a report into the science and impact of fracking, but said the pause in extraction would stay unless new evidence showed it was ‘safe, sustainable and of minimal disturbance…’  A 23-mile lorry queue at Dover caused chaos on roads surrounding the M20.  Suspended P&O crossings were blamed – nowt to do with Brexit!  UNHRC threw Russia out.  Ukrainian Foreign minister Dmytro Kuleba begged for weapons to save lives and prevent the war spilling over into other territories.  Beloved Mr Ben creator David McKee died.  My tiny kid-fish brain never clocked there were only 13 episodes!

No Joke

Haiga – The Artist

Friday, I worked on the journal and waited impatiently in the co-op for a man dithering and a cashier fiddling with buttons.  Coming to help, Phil had a cheeky search for long-gone chocolate slabs on the easter display.  Finding none, he said he’d have to go elsewhere but with 3 bars at home, I told him not to bother.  Rising from a siesta, a marked drop in temperature presaged a loud crack of thunder followed by large balls of ice – thunder hail!  It soon turned to rain.  Enjoyment of dinner was marred by Phil telling me Rishi Rich was technically a US resident until recently, thus not paying UK tax.  The scum held a Green Card until October 2021!  He demanded an enquiry into the source of the leak.  The opposition demanded ministers declared their residency status.  Meanwhile, Ms. Murthy said she “understood the British sense of fairness”, coughed up UK tax on her income but remained a non-dom.

Covid rates still high across the UK, they rose in the Yorkshire region to 1:12, but fell slightly in Scotland.  Thousands in hospital but not on ventilators, ONS said it was too soon to say infections were levelling off.  A Russian missile hit a train station in Kramatorsk, killing 50 trying to evacuate before a full-scale offensive.

Phil answered a door knock early Saturday to be handed an easter ‘goody bag’ from the local carers’ group.  Containing a fleece blanket, thermometer, first aid kit, jelly sweets, greetings card, fluffy chick and chocolate bar (making 4 in total), it resembled an elderly care package.  Phil joked about sticking the thermometer up his bum.  I cleaned the living room and he overhauled the kitchen lights, then rested in a bid to ease tummy ache.  His discomfort persisted into Sunday.  That didn’t stop him coming foraging in nearby woods.  At the wild garlic patch, two women approached from below.  Fearing competition, I pretended to take aim but they didn’t stop.  Celandine nestled among the extended crop, creating a salad of yellow and green.  After filling a bag, I picked up a couple of excellent twisty red branches, perfect for hanging decorative easter eggs.  Keeping to the lower meandering path, we magically saw a couple of deer chasing each other.  The Victorian stairways carpeted with crunchy leaves inspired the week’s haiga (for a fuller description, see Cool Places).

P&O said there’d be no Dover ferries until at least Friday.  Stuck in queues and losing thousands a day, meat exporters called for the prioritisation of fresh produce.  Boris went to walk the streets with Vlod and wave – why was he so popular in Kyiv?  As he travelled by car, helicopter, military plane and train, a convoy of Russian tanks headed for Donbas.  The Oscars harshly banned Will Smith for 10 years.

After posting the haiga Monday,  Phil helped evict a mini zoo of larvae and spiders from the bathroom.  Having not fixed the mini mixer, he made wild garlic pesto in the pestle and mortar.

High infection rates having a ‘major impact’, The NHS Confederation felt abandoned and urged government to rethink the ‘living with covid’ plan, reintroduce mitigation, and reinvigorate the public info campaign with renewed focus on mask-wearing and gathering outdoors.  A Number 10 spokesperson said no; thanks to vaccinations, treatments and better understanding, it could be managed similarly to other viruses.

The Tuesday top-up shop was astronomical again.  Was it due to small seasonal additions or rampant inflation?  The Widower looked bemused by easter eggs.  I advised on vegan options for his granddaughter.  The weighty bags made my shoulder ache but it eased off after an unusual 5 minutes afternoon kip.

Smart Energy GB found rising costs led to habit changes and a UCL survey found us more worried by money (38%) than covid (33%).  Anxiety and depression levels the highest for 11 months, 51% didn’t feel in control of their mental health.  Unemployment fell to 3.8%, but with 76,000 economically inactive, there weren’t more jobs.  The Met issued 30 more Partygate FPNs – Boris, Rishi and Carrie Antoinette were included for The Bumbler’s birthday bash.  Apologising, he said he only went for 10 minutes and didn’t know it was a party.  “He should contest the fine then,” advised Phil, “that would be hilarious in court!”  The first sitting PM ever to be exposed breaking the law, the most Covid fines issued in a single street or workplace and more to come, it confirmed Downing Street was full of crooks.  Keir said they’d broken the law, repeatedly lied to the British public, were totally unfit to govern and should resign.  Lobby Akinnola of Bereaved Families agreed they had no authority, took us all for mugs and would be gone by nightfall if they had any decency.  Approval ratings plummeting, Boris reportedly begged Rishi to stay to save Big Dog.  Operation Red Meat looked more like mincemeat!  Evil kids cartoon villain Michael Fabricant subsequently compared it to nurses having a cheeky post-shift drink, justice minister Lord Wolfson resigned and our MP Craigy Babe said they must go.  They didn’t.

Wednesday, I baked an easter cake and wrote.  Not seeming long since the last submission, a message from Valley Life had taken me by surprise.  I considered the feature almost finished but sifting e-mails later in the week, noticed a word limit increase.  How had I missed that for a whole year?  I checked with The Owner who also passed on lovely feedback from ‘a neighbour’.  Probing revealed it to be The Widower.  As earlier rain cleared, I’d have loved an evening walk if I wasn’t dead tired.  Instead, we watched a programme on BBC4 about Stonehenge’s removal from Wales – not stolen as the Welsh claimed, but taken by migrants.

Inflation rose to 7%.  With pre-tax profits of £2.03 billion, Tesco gave staff 1.5% ‘thank you’ bonuses for coping with pandemic, supply chain and inflation challenges.  Pay rises would come in July.  Uncle Joe accused Putin of genocide and the presidents of Poland, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia visited Vlod.

Waking with a scratchy throat for the third morning running Thursday, Echinacea banished it.  Opening the bedroom window, I heard then saw 2 typhoon jets zig-zagging over the next hill.  The laptop misbehaving even after a restart, I persevered with writing but got head fug and hung washing on the line.  Decorating Neighbour was sweeping the street.  I asked if he’d done the steps.  “I don’t go that far.” The co-op bustling, I forgot essential items.  Counsellor Friend was stocking up before joining the great easter getaway.  With no P&O ferries, railway engineering and airport queues, I wished her luck!  Having a nightmare with veg falling on the floor and a cluttered sink, Phil eventually helped.  Knackered, I bemoaned an almost-gone afternoon.  An item in metro on easter laughter disappointingly contained no actual jokes.

UK covid infections fell except Wales, for the first time in 6 weeks, suggesting the surge of BA.2 had passed the peak.  Bonnie Prince Charlie gave out Maundy Money on behalf of the queen.  The latest madcap scheme to deal with dinghy crossings involved putting the navy in charge of the channel and sending migrants to Rwanda.  Copied off Denmark, there were only 100 places under the ‘migration and economic development partnership’ aka offshoring single black men.  Boris said the plan was possible because of Brexit freedoms but conceded it could be legally challenged.  Keir called it unworkable, extortionate and an attempt to distract from Partygate.  Phil mused it might not put people off: “After all, we’re always being told to ‘Visit Rwanda’ on the footie!”  However, interviewees in a Dunkirk camp maintained the crossing was risky but they’d risked much already and pointed out accepting Ukrainians into our homes was double-standards – touché!  The First of stricter UK reception centres at RAF Linton-on-Ouse slated to ‘open soon’, bewildered villagers were up in arms at no consultation.  More sanctions were announced by the UK and EU, against Russian oligarchs who propped up the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republic. Imports of iron and steel and exports of quantum tech were banned.

Bridge of Sighs

Haiga – Inner Voice

After I was asked if the photos I sent for the Crossings expo were mine even with my name on, Good Friday, Phil was asked which object he’d written about.  “Can that writing woman not read?” I sighed.  He went shopping for the items I’d forgotten and flowers.  As he tried to put them in a vase, I took over while he toasted hot cross buns for a hasty lunch.  The beautiful roses stayed fresh-looking for over 2 weeks.  Wending up to the upland village, we stopped in the playing fields where Phil allowed a rare snap, later garnering several ‘likes’ on FB.  In time for a mid-afternoon performance, It was lovely to see the Pace Egg play after a 2-year absence, and also the kids and grandkids of Deceased Friend, for their traditional family get-together.  Viewing obstructed, hearing became impossible during the final act because of the chattering classes.  What was the point of going if they were more interested in bragging about themselves than listening?  We made a hasty getaway and were heading downhill when Phil decided he needed a snack from the burger stall outside the pub.  Hearing music, we wandered into the beer garden.  Phil commandeered the one free table while I got the second pints of the day.  As the novelty act doing bad cover versions wore thin, we retreated to the penfold.  A man with 2 dogs hovered at the entrance before letting one loose to run round in an ellipse.  He denied that explained rutted soil beneath a picnic bench.  Methinks he lied!  Despite extreme tiredness, night-time sleep was mediocre.

The next day, the Crossings expo preview invite landed in my in-box but not Phil’s.  Narked at doing ‘work’ at the weekend, Phil said it wasn’t work. “It is for them, and on Easter Saturday to boot!”  Still tired, I stayed home, hung sheets on the line and cleaned.  Meaning to garden in the nice weather, I seemed to run out of time and mislaid flower seed packets.  Phil popped to the shops.  Town rammed with drinkers but no more than expected, we didn’t understand why this weekend was picked to hold a hipster beer festival.  While he was out, I hastily made him a card featuring early spring blooms.

Spring Blooms Card

Birds tweeted in grey pre-dawn light Sunday.  I sighed grumpily, wondering what they had to be so cheerful about and turned over until hazy sunlight made sleeping impossible.  Dull-headed, I forgot it was easter, then remembered to print the card and give it to Phil with a pack of Haribo’s.  He felt bad getting me no confectionary until I reminded him we had stacks of chocolate and he got me flowers.

To refresh fuddled brains, we took a leisurely stroll west on the canal, avoiding squawking geese protecting their nests, admiring showy tulips and chatting to The Biker outside his houseboat.  Complementing the restoration of his granddad’s plane, we agreed they didn’t make tools like that anymore.  A sign on the chicken farm honesty box helpfully informed us turkey eggs were like hens eggs but bigger!  Tempted by a promise of refreshments in the pavilion, we stepped onto the diminutive stone bridge to the cricket club.  No match on, it was closed.  We rested on an equally picturesque bridge near the lock.  Serving also as a crossing point, an arrow indicating Warland, prompted Phil to invent a film plot wherein puritan villagers refused to accept the civil war was over.

Archbishop Welby called the Rwanda ploy ‘ungodly’.  Responding in The Times, Nasty Patel said it was ‘bold and innovative’ and challenged anyone to come up with a better idea.  How about opening safe, legal routes for migrants?  Charities lambasted the Nationality and Borders Bill for not preventing child trafficking.  Theresa May later added she couldn’t support the policy on the grounds of ‘legality, practicality and efficacy’ as it split families and encouraged trafficking of women and children.  Patel refused to reveal eligibility criteria.  Gammons were incensed at small print allowing Rwandans to come to the UK in exchange.

The laptop very noisy Monday, Phil stopped the daft MS newsfeed.  Accompanied by music, I started spring cleaning the study, finding the mislaid wildflower seeds behind the desk.  Outside planting one in a pot, a neighbour from across the way asked if I knew which cat visited her garden.  “They all look the same to me!”  Unbelievably, The Great Escape was the best bank holiday film on telly all weekend, apart from Barabbas.

Face-masks no longer mandatory but ‘strongly advised’ in Scotland, spotted without one at a barbers, Sturgeon was again called a hypocrite.  Police had words.  In their latest covid wave, Shanghai reported 3 deaths bringing the overall total to 4,641 – still lots less than the UK.  Shats launched the gimmicky half-price rail tickets wheeze with a cheesy YouTube videoiv.

Tuesday a boring round of chores, writing and shopping, in the evening, I returned a missed call from Aunty.  She liked the old postcards of her locality I’d sent her with easter greetings.  Found in a charity shop, I promised to send more if they turned up.  Using the last of the bargain chicken to make soup, we’d got 4 dinners for £2.50  (and a lunch).  The affordable alternative to veganism!

Swiss Toni said Boris’ FPN was like getting a speeding ticket.  Ed Davey spluttered that was ‘an insult to bereaved families’.  Alastair Campbell contested the claim Blair got a speeding fine while in office, pointing out security disallowed driving.  It later emerged The Bumbler racked up £4,000 in speeding tickets while at GQ magazine.  In the commons, he repeatedly apologised to MPs, acknowledged the ‘hurt and anger caused’, but insisted it didn’t occur to him it breached rules.  Keir said he dragged everyone down to his level.  Saying he wasn’t worthy of holding office, Mark Harper publicised a letter to the 1922 committee.  Referral to the Privileges Committee and more fines imminent, ministers repeated pleas to await the full Sue Gray report.  The economic forecast bleak with the war and covid, the IMF judged the impact on the UK particularly severe with growth down to 1.2% in 2023 because of the ‘triple whammy’ of fuel, food and tax rises.  ¾ of civil servants still working from home, Rees Moggy told them to go back to the office.  The missive including tables of who was working where, FDA union’s Dave Penman said ministers were ‘vindictive’ and behaving like luddites’, when the private sector embraced flexible working.

On PMQs Wednesday, Boris conveyed 96th birthday greetings to the queen and informed us he was going to India.  Keir said once the cameras were off for the public apology, Boris went to his backbenchers to privately blame everyone else and say Welby wasn’t critical enough of Putin, when actually the archbishop said the Ukraine invasion was ‘an act of great evil’.  He invited the PM to apologise for slander, getting a flat ‘no’ in response.   Ian Blackford claimed 82% of Scots thought Boris lied.  While the commons debated the Buildings Safety Bill, protestors complained it didn’t help everyone affected by the cladding scandal.

The NOA found government departments uncoordinated on foreign travel rules with no assessment of the impact on the industry.  1:9 workers in insecure jobs, Frances O’Grady joined Zero Hours Justice’s Julian Richer and Living Wage Foundation’s Katharine Chapman to criticise delaying the Employment Bill announced in 2019: “Boris Johnson has done nothing to show he is serious about upgrading workers’ rights,” she said.  1.5 million cancelled streaming subs.  Prime and Netflix the last to go, did it explain splitting the current season of popular Ozark?  Just Eat and gambling firm 888 also haemorrhaged customers. A longitudinal study confirmed what I already knew – anti-depressants didn’t improve long-term quality of life.

Holed up in the Azovstal Steel works, Mariupol die-hards worried they were in their final hours and Vlod offered to exchange them for captured Russian soldiers.  The next day, Putin claimed victory in the city and ordered a ring around the steel plant.  Moscow tested a new ICBM to make anyone threatening them ‘think twice’.  Satan 2 wasn’t yet ready for deployment.  The Inflow of oil and gas profits bolstering the Rouble, Germany planned to stop using Russian energy products by the end of the year.  Wimbledon banned Russian and Belarussian tennis players.

Thursday, I tweaked the Valley Life article, cleaned the bedroom and hung sheets on the line.  Bright and breezy, they twisted up but dried quick.  Phil went to Leeds just after I went to town for a whizz round shops.  Picking up bin-end wine and a ½-price easter egg, I waited in the convenience store for a man chucking stuff in a sack.  What looked like a big shop, was actually parcels for delivery.  Wanting to linger in sun, pedestrian areas were fully occupied thanks to school hols.  A dumb couple stood on the bridge, commenting on the number of bridges.  ‘Err, there are rivers, you morons!’ I muttered.  I went home to weed the garden.  The Widower walked his dog past.  Enquiring how he was coping, he replied ‘okay’.  The underlying sigh belied his brave face. Thanking him for his nice words to Valley Life, he said they weren’t ‘nice’, but true.  How lovely!  Out of breath and fatigued, I went to lie down and retired early for a bath that night.  Suffering insomnia, the meditation tape eventually sent me into unrefreshing sleep.

The Valneva vaccine was approved for UK use, making 6 in total.  A man tested covid-positive on 505 consecutive days before dying, suggesting variants could evolve in persistent cases.  Medics wanted better treatments for the vulnerable.  While Boris posed in a turban, William Wragg echoed other back-benchers sick of defending the indefensible.  A motion to refer Boris to the Privileges Committee carried without a vote.  Designs to put the investigation on hold until police inquires concluded, were scrapped.  The Met said no fines would be issued before elections 5th May because of ‘restrictions around communicating’.  Local candidates included Freedom Alliance – Stop the Great Reset.  Their concerns of a global public-private partnership had some validity but not the conspiracy view that covid was a mechanism to control us all!

Sinking Ships

Crossings Exhibit – Installation

Phil had even less shuteye so we both felt unrest Friday.  Rushing out, we barely paused to greet new people on the street or admire profusive spring flowers.  At the Crossings show preview, project workers and the workshop leader directed us to our group’s work on the outer walls of small sheds.  We acknowledged fellow participants and extricated ourselves from an over-friendly acquaintance.  Of other exhibits, children’s print work stood out.  One kid made a print of Blackpool, cos nothing says nature like Blackpool!

Crossings Exhibit – Blackpool Print

We congratulated the friendly printer responsible on training the next generation.  Outdoor displays featuring wood, natural paint and ceramics, were much easier to photograph than indoors where pictures were defaced by reflections.

Art appreciation over, we followed a sign to ‘The Crags’.  Previously unexplored, we climbed the curated curious before a protracted return route.  A flagging Phil griped of miles to go so we switched to an upper path.  I went home to unshod hot, tired feet.  He went to the shop, ran into the over-friendly acquaintance again and got yet more ½-price easter eggs (for a fuller description, see Cool Places).

Wanting a trade deal by Diwali, Boris hinted at more immigration from India into high skilled jobs in return for reduced tariffs on British machinery.  He also pledged to help them build fighter jets to lessen reliance on Russia but didn’t push Nodi on neutrality.  At the JCB plant in Gujarat, owned by tory donor Lord Bamford, he didn’t mention the destruction of Muslim’s homes by their bulldozers.

Drained after a long afternoon out, I stayed home Saturday apart from a trip to the co-op.  Very quiet for a weekend, there was hardly any veg but plenty of oil, despite reports of rationing.  Along with potatoes, cereal and chicken feed, it apparently all came from Ukraine.  Nowt to do with Brexit or P&O ferries!  Was the war also responsible for HRT shortages?  At the kiosk, my mate’s eyebrows shot up as a colleague told him his pregnant partner wanted a gender reveal party.  I observed: “but what if it doesn’t want to be that gender? ‘How very dare you assume my gender before I’m even born?’ It would say.”  An eavesdropping woman added: “Nothing surprises me anymore!”(see Tales from the Co-opv).

On Sunday Morning, the hideous Piers Morgan said firms had a dilemma balancing staff being in offices and at home.  Oliver Dowdy maintained Boris gave a ‘clear explanation’ of events leading to fines and we should balance that with other matters.  In an unfortunate analogy, he said the PM still had ‘fuel in the tank to deliver for this country’.  Asked how much more of the ‘drip, drip’ they could withstand, he blathered about focusing on the national security crisis.  What was he on about? The war was in Ukraine not the UK!

We went in search of blossom in the park.  At various stages of growth, some had already blown off and dandelions outnumbered the cherry.  Having noted the music café was rebranded ‘Charlie’s – not attracting the young hip crowd, but OAPs supping a nice cup of tea – we investigated other changes in town.  With a closed bank now a daft pub, several ice cream sellers and a pointless melts outlet, Phil remarked: “It’s full of people from out of town selling crap to people from out of town – like a northern Cotswolds!”  However, we got more bin-end wine and bargain easter eggs (the most I’d ever had, even in childhood).  Coming back, we came across German Friend and empathised on the struggles of processing the passing of friends.

Some tories told MOS that Rayner, lacking Boris’ Etonian debating skills, distracted him by crossing and uncrossing her legs at PMQs.  What tripe!  She could make mincemeat of him!  She tweeted: ‘Women in politics face sexism and misogyny every day…This is the latest dose of gutter journalism..”  She later added it was classist too.  A colleague said: “Just when you think the Conservative party can’t get any lower they outdo themselves. (They) clearly have a problem with women in public life.”  Even Boris decried the piece.  Meanwhile, 56 sex misconduct allegations included 3 cabinet ministers and 2 shadows.  As ship Albatroz sunk, 47 barrels of diesel created  a slick, threatening The Galapagos’ giant turtles.

Haiga – Impressions

Wobbly and heavy headed, I started to exercise Monday morning, when a throat niggle progressed to my ear and nose.  Annoyed at a second bout of illness that month, Phil reckoned I’d caught covid at the art show.  Feasible, seeing as the last one immediately followed the workshop, but vile phlegm implied the usual sinus lark. 

Either way, it rendered me bed-ridden for much of the week, apart from essential chores and spells on the sofa. 

After posting a haiga and Cool Places updates, I got head fug and settled down with a book when Phil noisily announced he was going for a rest.  I ask you!  I slept for 1 minute.

Idiot Epstein informed Jeremy Vine that Rishi was rich because he was good with money.  Hmm – It’s easy to be good with money when you have piles to start with!  Rees-Moggy put memos on empty Whitehall desks saying ‘I look forward to seeing you in the office soon’.  In a rare moment of not talking claptrap, Dreadful Doris called the passive-aggressive bullying ‘Dickensian’.  Life expectancy down in deprived areas over the last 3 years, covid was partly blamed.  In Kyiv, Lloyd Austin and Anthony Blinken said ‘Ukraine is succeeding’ and promised more munitions.  Following weekend attacks on the Azovstal steel plant, Russian strikes targeted fuel and rail facilities.  After Micron was re-elected president of France, cops killed 3 protestors.

Tuesday, I okayed the Valley Life proof and worked on blogs.  Suffering brain fog, I stopped writing and submitted photos to the larger arts festival exhibition.  Phil went to the co-op.  Disturbed by the door slamming on his return and loud talking on the street below, so-called ‘quiet time’ was a write-off.  As he’d bought 3 kinds of spuds, I cooked loads for dinner, getting backache and narky.

The Bumbler convened Cabinet to invent ideas to address the cost of living crisis without spending extra money.  They came up with encouraging more uptake of child and pension credits, cutting import tariffs and childcare ratios and extending MOT’s to 2 years.  The Guardian accused them of trashing health and safety.  Boris threatened to privatise DVLA and the passport office.  Delightfully-named Ian Snowball, landlord of the Showtime bar, Huddersfield, faced a £6,000 fine for allowing a punter to sip ale while standing to play beer pong during restrictions.  Talk about disproportionality!  IPPR reported 400,000 quitting work due to ill health, leading to ‘terminally low productivity’.  Elon Musk bought twitter for $44 bn.  Right-wingers thrilled by the promise of less moderation, others feared more fake news, bigotry and conspiracy drivel.  After The Insolvency Service began criminal and civil proceedings over redundancies, shit-show P&O failed to further reduce wages.  Intending to restart the Dover-Calais ferry Spirit of Britain for freight from Wednesday, The European Causeway lost power half an hour from Larne and limped back.  As more weapons were sent to Ukraine, Serge warned of ‘world war by proxy’ and again raised the prospect of nuclear attacks.  Antonio Guterres went to Moscow, incensing Vlod by not visiting Kyiv first.

Barrels of Fun

Unappreciated Dandelions

Wednesday, I fetched the coffee, for which Phil tossed me 10p.  It disappeared like a crap magic trick.  At PMQs, Keir attacked the government’s approach to the cost of living crisis.  Boris threw out figures and metaphors.  Keir quipped that was his fab debating skills we’d heard about!  He then asked ironically if being the only country to raise taxes had made things better or worse?  Ian Blackford cited Trussell Trust research that 830,000 children depended on food parcels and urged him to look for ideas beyond the cabinet, such as raising child payments like in Scotland.  He could also have cited food parcel demand (up 44% in Yorkshire), 59% of the population making lifestyle changes to cut spending and 18% having no disposable income.  Cathy Gardner and Fay Harris won a high court case against PHE and The Cock for discharging untested patients to care homes where their dads’ died of covid.  Invited by Daisy Cooper to apologise, Boris insisted they didn’t know the virus was transmitted asymptomatically.  Court evidence proved otherwise.  A PHE paper passed to Sage early 2020 concluded ‘asymptomatic transmission cannot be ruled out’, another warned ‘pre-symptomatic transmission…constituted a very substantial proportion of all transmission,’ and top medic Pat Vallance said likewise on the Today Programme, 13th March.

Fatigued by the antics, I rested.  At least external noise was more ambient this time.  At coffee time, Phil cadged from my depleting filter supplies, saying he’d buy me more if I gave him 50p.  A bargain, I said he could have the 10p back, which had turned up among the sheets.

Rayner called Lord Geidt clearing Rishi of any wrongdoing an ‘utter whitewash’.  Editor David Dillon refused to meet Lindsay Hoyle.  Carol Brexit informed Jeremy Vine that 4 tories heard the Ashton MP jest about using her legs to distract Boris.  The Chief Whip promised action against a tory caught watching porn.  After letting rumours accusing others to circulate, Neil Parish was suspended Friday, said he got onto the porn site by accident looking for tractors but re-visited it, then resigned Saturday.  Following more EU sanctions against 50 oligarchs and companies including Gazprom, Russia cut the gas off to Bulgaria and Poland.  How did you sanction a company you traded with?  Greenpeace called imports of 1.9 million oil barrels since the start of the war, ‘utterly disingenuous’ when the UK vowed less reliance on Russian supplies.  GSK reported a £9.8 billion turnover in the first quarter, thanks in part to anti-viral drug Xevudy.  Meanwhile, treatments for tremors involved zapping neurons and the first person treated for Parkinson’s with a Deep Brain Stimulation implant, declared a miracle.  York councillors divested Prince Andy of Freedom of the City.

Eyes shutting while reading, I hoped to be less fatigued Thursday.  Sadly not.  Phil went to the market for bog paper (only loose rolls available) and fishy bits.  The shrimps were from Holland.  Full import checks on European goods further delayed, supermarkets were happy, but exporters facing red tape and ports having built unnecessary infrastructure, weren’t.  The benefits of Brexit eh, Moggy?  Was that taking back control?

A tweeter thought it fun to relabel BA ‘British Wokeways’ for refusing to fly migrants to Rwanda over fears of a backlash.  Charter flights would add to an already astronomical £120 million for the scheme.  A whopping £30,000 each, Phil reckoned it’d be cheaper to give people the money to go home.  In more commons sleaze, Jamie Wallis was charged with a hit and run, Imran Khan belatedly submitted a resignation letter (after getting another full month’s pay), Liam Byrne was suspended for 2 days, and a female MP was called ‘a secret weapon’ as all the men wanted to sleep with her.  Ben Wally said they should avoid ‘toxic bars’ and Sue Braverman claimed there wasn’t a ‘pervasive culture’ of misogyny but some bad apples.  Yes, but it only took one to rot the whole barrel!  Keir said he took all allegations seriously and hoped colleagues had confidence in the complaints procedure.  On QT, Jon Ashworth agreed the cost of living was the most important issue but connected to Partygate because tories were disconnected and dismissed people’s real concerns as ‘silly’.  Mims Davies wittered about jobs and floundered trying the defend the migrant policy against accusations of being ‘pick and choose’.  After telling Iain Dale Channel 5 had thrived when it was privatised (it was never public!) an unusually sober Dreadful Doris came on Newscast to prate about impartiality and privatising Channel 4 even though 96% were against it.

Friday, Phil said he needed a haircut: “I look like I’m from a Britpop band.” “No you don’t. Mines’ worse.” “It does need colouring in.” “Thanks!” I sat abed writing until hungry and hot, considered getting lunch but he brought it to me.  Perhaps staying put was a good thing, because I felt much better on a bright Saturday.  I went to the rag market to buy haberdashery from friendly stall-holders then waited for Phil to come to an exhibition of historic photos by a local celeb.  On the way, we were waylaid by falling blossom and dandelions.  I later created a Facebook album but the dazzling yellow blooms went unappreciated.  Balking at a £5 suggested donation, we contributed by purchasing juice.  Phil’s photography mate had planned the showing for 2020.  They bemoaned work being on hold since covid and I sympathised with his travails being interviewed for a documentary.  I could talk for England but stick me in front of camera, I was dumbstruck!

550 Network Rail upgrade projects over the bank holiday weekend, cleaners and conductors’ strikes meant TPE only ran a small number of (dirty) services.  Roads were predicted to be quiet.  A good job with herds of animals on the M62 at Eccles and Brighouse.  Madelaine McTernan who worked on the covid vaccine rollout, was appointed HRT tsar.  Demand up thanks to The Davina Effect, I felt I was missing out not taking it.

References:

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

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

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

iv. Shat’s gimmicky rail sale video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iheo0km3xHE

v. Tales from the Co-op: Notes on life, the universe and stuff that sucks: Tales from the Co-op Vol 5 (maryc1000.blogspot.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

Haiga – Off Season

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 1st 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.

Haiga – Clarity

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

Larch Blooms

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 21st 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 75th 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 12th April followed by travellers from other visa-waiving countries 1st 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 12th 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!”

Magnificent Blackthorn

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

All At Sea

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.

Unrecognisable Manchester

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 67 – North/South Divide

“The question is, why are we in this position? The NHS has done a fantastic job on vaccines but why has there been such a poor investment in public health infection control to suppress these outbreaks?” (Anthony Costello)

Gammonise!

Large Fern

Overnight rain led to cloudy skies and a cooler Monday.  Media again banged on about the hottest day of the year.  Yeah, in London where it was scorchio!  Would it be yet another summer of the north/south divide?  Both struggling with lack of sleep, we had a laugh at what Phil called his in-between glasses.  Unable to find them without them, it was a bit Count Arthur.  A tedious round of chores preceded posting blogs and a trip to the co-op.  The same pub mate stood in the kiosk queue ahead of me.  I resisted the urge to say we should stop meeting like this.  Actually getting dozy during my siesta, irksome noise disturbed my rest.

As expected, The Bumbler announced a 4-week postponement to stage 4 of the roadmap.  All restrictions remained in place until 19th July except for weddings and funerals, care residents no longer having to isolate after a trip out and further test events under ERP including footie at Wembley.  In the pre-amble, he referred to ‘exponential growth’ in cases, 96% of which were the Delta variant.  PHE reported vaccines up to 96% effective after 2 doses, weakening but not severing the link between infections and death.  The virus could outrun the vaccine or we could give the NHS another few weeks to ‘get jabs in arms’.  The government now aimed for over 40’s to get their first, and all vulnerable groups and frontline staff their second, by 4th July and all adults fully immunised by 19th July.  Witless’ graphs depicted a 64% increase in infections within 7 days, a rise in the variant across the country, and hospital admissions up 50% per week (61% in the North West).  No news on financial support, a furious Anthony Costello of UCL railed: “The question is, why are we in this position?” and criticised a lack of investment in public health infection control: “Patrick Vallance got it right in February when he said that as the numbers come down it is essential that we do find, test, trace and isolate.  And our failure to do that 3 times in the past has led to 3 national lockdowns and 150,000 deaths.”  Jon Ashworth said Boris’ complacency led to the mutant ‘washing up on or shores’.  Lindsay Hoyle lambasted ministers for not telling MPs of the delay before the public address.  Sociopaths Fox and Corbyn went on a mask-less protest to Downing Street.  A mob chased Newsnight’s Nick Watt, shouting ‘traitor!’  Martin Hockridge was subsequently charged with harassment.

Brighter on Tuesday, Phil spotted the window cleaner through the kitchen window as we started lunch.  We raced round shutting windows and making butties to be interrupted by a knock on the door for payment.  So much for an early outing in the sunshine!  When we eventually got out, we did the rounds of the charity shops.  Perusing a photo equipment cabinet in the first, a digital polaroid camera I’d spotted weeks ago remained unsold – the archaic memory card required likely why.  I left Phil cogitating to go onto the next shop and joined him at the third to acquire 3 books and laugh at dog ice cream.  Also now selling sweets, I joked, “are they dog sweets?”

Ample space at the Med Café allowed us to people-watch as we imbibed refreshing pop.  A busker played ‘Calder Delta Blues’.  Tourists ambled up and down the pedestrian street.  A family group gawped into an overpriced tat shop with delight.  Bemused at anyone expressing enthusiasm for their wares, maybe they didn’t get out much.  One of them had the pastiest legs I’d ever seen which would explain it!   On leaving, a bald man with a red face ran up to greet us “You look like tourists.”  “What’s to do on a hot afternoon but bimble about?“   He whinged he’d been under a van all day and was desperate to get out; I guessed for beer.  “Who was that?”  I asked Phil.  “Bloke from the pub years ago. He wasn’t a gammon then. He was thin and had dreadlocks.”  Unable to imagine a younger version, Phil continued: “That’s the problem nowadays. Everyone’s got middle aged and turned into gammons.”  “We haven’t!”  I came up with the ditty: ‘It’s time to Gammonise’ (to the tune of the Chemical Brothers’ Galvanise).  Back home, I attempted photos of large ferns in pots outside 3 adjoining houses.  Unable to get a wide enough shot, I settled for one of ours.  A  couple on Pointless were named Phil and Mary.  “They’re a gammon version of us. That’s why we haven’t turned; they’ve done it for us!”

Due to accelerated vaccinations, The Glove-puppet said something ‘unprecedented and remarkable’ needed to happen to push the date for ‘Freedom Day’ back again.  Simon Stevens said all over 18’s should be able to book one by the end of the week and that neutralising monoclonal antibodies would enable covid patients to be sent home with pills in future.  Aberdeen University came up with a technique to detect antibodies for all variants with 98% accuracy.  Were there plans to roll it out?  In response to labour’s criticism of lax borders, sage bod Prof. Medley said the Delta variant was found around the globe and would have ended up here sooner or later anyway.  Causing different symptoms including a headache, sneezing, sore throat and runny nose, how would I distinguish it from the chronic sinus lark?

A trade deal agreed between Boris and Aussie PM Scott Morrison would make it cheaper to export British cars, whisky and sweets, and their wine, swimwear and confections cheaper for us.  Bring on the Tim Tam.  A cap on tariff-free imports for 15 years, the ‘strongest possible’ animal welfare standards and other ‘safeguards’ to protect British farmers were promised.  Britons under 35 could travel and work in Australia.  The One Show tried to explain non-fungible tokens.  I was left nonplussed about block chains.

Right to Roam?

Stone Altar

Wednesday, I spent the morning on laundry, cleaning and writing.  PMQs about to start, the Ocado delivery arrived.  I left most of it in quarantine and sat back down as Keir asked about financial support.  Furlough and business rates to be phased out from the end of month, why were they not extended in England like in Wales?  Boris replied he was proud of what they’d done.  Keir retorted, it wasn’t about what they’d done but what were they going to do?  Later, Steve Barclay announced an extension to the commercial eviction ban, costing the government nothing!  Harking back to the start of the crisis, Keir reminded us in March, Boris said they’d turn the tide in 12 weeks, then by Christmas, then by 21st June which he dubbed ‘Freedom Day’.  The public didn’t expect miracles but integrity and honesty.  5 years since Jo Cox was murdered, Ian Blackford paid tribute. He observed that details of the ‘disastrous’ trade deal with Australia were ‘seeping out’.  In his desperation to get a deal without scrutiny or consultation, the PM had “thrown Scottish famers and crofters under the Brexit bus,” along with fishers.  Boris responded there was no reason why farmers couldn’t take advantage of the opportunities.  How were small crofts supposed to compete with ranches the size of a country?

The Scumbag’s latest blog emerged a half hour before, claiming The Bumbler told ‘rambling stories and jokes’ when chairing crucial meetings.  An official spokesman spluttered: “that’s not true. The PM works with the whole Cabinet very effectively.”  ‘Evidence’ of his previous allegations took the form of WhatsApp screenshots in which Boris called The Cock ‘effing hopeless’ (on testing, PPE and ventilator procurement).  Planning to offload responsibilities to The Glove-puppet, Scum replied the cabinet office was a ‘shit show’.   Number 10 didn’t deny the messages’ authenticity but insisted the PM had full confidence in The Cock.  Accused of re-writing history, Jon Ashworth coined the moniker ‘Hopeless Handcock’.  Jesse Norman insisted Boris was ‘firmly behind’ the health secretary.  Rees-Moggy referred to him as a ‘successful genius’ and blathered about ‘lapidary inscriptions’.  What are you on about, you posh knob?!

We set off in mid-afternoon sun on another stone mystery quest.  Trees provided welcome shade slogging up the steep road until we reached the path down into woodland.  Signs of strangeness included beeches planted concentrically and a possible stone altar.  Imagining druids dancing round as they sacrificed virgins,  I almost asked the half-naked hippy nearby if he knew anything.  In the clough, we sat near the brook, admired greenery and tiny flowers, and listened to the constant water flow and occasional birdsong.  Rather than our usual route, Phil suggested we follow yellow arrows going back.  Initially good, the path led to stepping stones crossing the bottom of the brook.  On the other side, more weird stones resembled pyramids and effigies.  Then the path became trickier.  We slipped on our arses and got filthy.  Scared and panicky, I bit the bullet to take another deliberate slide.  Eventually, a gravel path led to a bridge near the canal-side pub.  Too dirty and exhausted to consider a pint, we hurried homewards.  We felt like we’d been on an expedition!  I was glad I’d worn jeans and proper shoes rather than shorts and sandals.  I stripped off grimy layers and donned a sarong before slumping on the sofa to watch Wales beat Turkey in the Euros.  At bedtime I soaked in a fluffy bath and tried to ignore an odd pain in an odd place caused by the fall.  The meditation tape aided some sleep.

Pfizer and Moderna supply issues jeopardised plans to inoculate younger people.  Uptake particularly low in London, vaccines would be mandatory for elderly care workers. Unions said the ‘sledgehammer approach’ failed to address pay and conditions, and would lead to staff resignations and recruitment issues.  GMB predicted a third leaving their jobs and Unison wanted encouragement rather than coercion.  Vic Rayner of NCF told BBC Breakfast that saying refuseniks should be redeployed was “really challenging for a sector that’s largely made up of small employers…This is potentially about people no longer being able to work.”  A consultation on whether NHS staff should be next was due.  The ONS reported inflation up in May, citing fuel and clothes.  What about drinking and eating out?

Muggy on Thursday, Phil seemed surprised I performed exercises after the previous day’s trek – I did so every day unless debilitated.  Mind you, the humidity made me sweaty and fatigued when cleaning the bedroom.

In response to feedback on my last article, Valley Life added a ‘correction’ to my page for the upcoming summer issue.  Uneasy that it said picnics were ‘prohibited’ on the private land, Phil agreed there were no signs to that effect; only (understandably) barbecues.  I googled by-laws for rights of way, but found nothing to forbid stopping to eat a pie.  I spoke to the magazine’s owner to collaborate on re-wording and hoped that concluded the matter.  She then asked my advice on an advertising conundrum.  Not my area, but maybe I should have blagged it and asked for a consultation fee!  Phil went to Leeds, I went to the market to find no toiletries again.

After lunch, I called the local volunteer co-ordinator.  The accompanied walks centred on sheltered accommodation in the next village.  A 40 minute hike each way would deplete my energy for the walk itself.  Currently no budget for bus fares, she promised to look into it and went onto ask if I might ‘buddy up’ for weekly calls to an isolated person.  This sounded less tiring but I later suspected I’d be out of pocket on the phone bill.  A flurry of weekend e-mails intimated she was leaving her role and I’d been added to the mailing list of volunteers before confirming what I could offer.  I started to regret my initial enthusiasm.

A Facebook post informed me that a woman who’d pioneered tree-planting initiatives in the valley had died.  She’d be sadly missed but left a tangible legacy.  Phil returned from Leeds at the exact moment I’d finished cooking dinner.  He’d visited the hipster bar who not only didn’t want any new photos yet, they wanted him to take old ones off the walls that he’d forgotten about.

The highest daily rise since 19th Feb saw 11,007 new cases.  PHE’s weekly surveillance report showed growth in all regions and all age groups, with the largest in 20-29 year olds.  Susan Hopkins said the R rate would be 7 for the Delta variant if it wasn’t for vaccines.  The UK the only European country where rates went up even though we’d vaccinated the most people (80% of adults now had 1 dose and 58% had 2), the EU added several countries to the safe travel list, but not Britain.  Following reports that government planned to make working from home the default position, business leaders said there was no need for their intervention and unions warned it risked a 2-tier system with those unable to work from home denied flexibility which Frances O’Grady said should be a ‘right’.  A spike in Cornwall saw blame fall on the recent G7 and half-term.  hospitalisations and deaths stayed low but cafés shut as staff isolated.  The Lib Dems won the Chesham and Amersham by-election.  Tory since the constituency’s creation in 1974, they lost a 16,233 majority.  Ed Davey said the tories concentrated on the north while the southern blue wall was under threat.  The government denied any such north/south divide.  Labour came last with a pathetic 1.6% of the votes.  No mention of the contest in the news until the results came in, was it another example of media bias?

Access All Areas?

Haiga – Idol

The exact moment I went to hang sheets outside Friday morning, a white van pulled up in front of our door.  The driver emerged from delivering to a house up the steps opposite, apologised and said he’d be gone soon.  Fine, I thought, but why park here, blocking my access and having to walk further yourself?  In the co-op, the card reader wasn’t working.  As I handed notes over, the cashier observed “Thank goodness they haven’t got rid of cash yet.”  “I know. They keep threatening to, don’t they?”  Saying he was starving before I went shopping, Phil didn’t make a move until lunch was ready – again!  “It’s a knack!” he smirked.  I posted a Cool Places blog on the recent canal-side adventuresi. Our Walking Friend predicted we wouldn’t tread the barely-accessible path again. I replied we might, to further investigate the stones. At least we’d know what to expect next time. Already dry thanks to a nice breeze, I brought the sheets in just before a rain shower descended.  The woman next door kept the gardener company.  Enquiring on her health, she said she’d felt at a low ebb earlier but a hill walk helped lift her spirits.  Telling me she originated from Poland, we shared stories and verged on subjects some might consider no-go areas.

A 79% rise in Delta cases within a week, hospitalisations almost doubled to 806.  As all over 18’s in England could have a jab, Stephen Powis reiterated it was a race with the virus and the vaccine programme would be the way to win.  He expected a peak July-August but Witless said there’d be an autumn surge and Susan Hopkins predicted one in winter – make your minds up!  In the Euros, the England – Scotland game ended in a nail-biting 0-0 draw.  England performed as if something was amiss, especially a lacklustre Harry Kane.  Was it the pressure of playing a derby?  Was he ill?  Was it Covid?

Cock-a-hoop at still being in the running, some Scottish fans who’d travelled north to south without tickets, left a trail of blood and broken glass on the streets of London in their wake.  No doubt thanks to the £3.4m worth of beer they drank.  Licensees allowing chants and sing-songs faced £1,000 fines.  Wembley set to admit 40,000 spectators in the knock-out rounds, UEFA didn’t rule out moving the final games unless quarantine regulations were lifted for fans and VIPs.  A ‘bubble to bubble’ concept as applied to the media was muted, entailing travel only between the airport, hotel and stadium, and back home within 24 hours.

Overwhelmed by a pile of unwashed pots Saturday morning, Phil thankfully came to my aid.  After a morning on the phone to Overwhelmed by a pile of unwashed pots Saturday morning, Phil thankfully came to my aid.  After a morning on the phone to the disgruntled landowner, the Valley Life proprietor rang me. She’d re-done the correction and e-mailed the revised page for my perusal.  On saying I tried to keep weekends separate, she apologised and said it could wait as it wasn’t due at the printers ‘til Monday.  Skimming the proof, the word ‘prohibited’ still rankled. I debated the legal definition with Phil who agreed they couldn’t prosecute you for sitting down, but I conceded it would be best to let it go to keep the peace.  There was a debate to be had on rights of way and the wider right to roam, but this wasn’t the place. I draft-posted the journal, took recycling out and got rid of more creeping buttercup in the garden.  Stepping-stones emerged easing access to the top part. I’d forgotten it was even there.  On her way out, the woman next door asked “How are you today?”  I mulled over why we shared such personal stuff but it was nice being neighbours who always asked after each other.

Phil went to town in search of weekend treats.  Ridiculously heaving, there were even queues outside charity shops!  He came to sit with me as I cleared debris, enjoying the sun and wafting breeze until hungry.  Feeling sleepy, I went to the co-op for an item Phil forgot, to get another blast of reviving air.  Evening film viewing was interrupted by people on the street below playing guitar and singing loudly.  Falling silent awhile, they began drunkenly talking and laughing as I headed to bed.  I put earplugs in, they quietened, I started to settle, then the racket returned at 2.30.  Livid, I banged on the window.  That shut them up!  Nevertheless, it took ages to drop off; the disturbance compounding the usual reasons for insomnia.

To make matters worse, the Valley Life conundrum circled round my head first thing Sunday.  Tired and emotional, I hangrily devoured banana and soya which helped a bit.  After bathing, I slumped back on the bed complaining of exhaustion.  “Baths are meant to be refreshing,” Phil told me. “It’s not that, it’s the sleeplessness and the interrupted weekend.”  He advised me not to be angry.  Easy to say, hard to do. I thought dealing with the magazine issue might help, messaged the owner so she could go ahead with printing and suggested we talk more before I ‘upset any more grumpy farmers!’  She replied I hadn’t upset anyone and kindly offered to take me out for coffee and a natter.  I pottered about and wrote a haigaii.  The weird carved stones we’d discovered on Wednesday’s walk provided perfect material for the upcoming summer solstice.  We also watched Wales lose to Italy but it didn’t matter as they qualified for the last 16 anyway.  Calmer but still knackered, I had a slightly better night.

Infection rates still highest in the North West, walk-in centres popped up in Cumbria and South London.  Young people queued for vaccines and social media encouraged uptake.  Nick Robinsons stood in for Andrew Marr (on holiday or ill?)  Susan Hopkins advised sticking to current restriction levels, which most of us ‘could live with’.  Although she’d predicted a winter surge, she assured us vaccines, drugs and testing might prevent a 4th lockdown.  Pat Valance was made National Tech Adviser of the new National Science & technology Council, to investigate whether the success of vaccine procurement could be replicated in other areas, and head of a new Office for Science &Technology Strategy.  How many new  councils and offices did he need?

References:

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

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

Part 65 – Baffling Betrayals

“The package…falls far short of what is needed. It is too narrow, too small and will be delivered too slowly. Above all, (it) betrays an undervaluation of the importance of education for individuals and as a driver of a more prosperous and healthy society” (Kevan Collins)

Bedazzled

Haiga – Salem

Morning mist once again burned off Monday and sunny weather persisted much of the week.  Dozing from early dawn, I rose feeling unrested.  I let Phil lie in while I fetched the tea.  He awoke groggily from a heavy slumber.  Lucky him!  Unlike the last bank holiday, we were keen to get out and enjoy this one. Debating where to go, Phil searched a baffling array of magic stones, all some distance away.  Seeing a much closer outcrop labelled on the map, I suggested a shorter walk and assembled a small picnic.

We headed out in dazzling sun to the opposite side of the valley where fallen fluffy catkins resembled dust on the pavement and bluebells gave the illusion of violet fields.  At the western edge of the wood, a man inexplicably built a blazing fire.  Further up, dandelions displayed luminous flowers and perfectly round seed heads.  We ascended the lane through a gate into fields where spooky dead trees redolent of the holy land inspired my next haigai.  Umpteen stiles later, we emerged onto another lane, dodging nasty flies lurking in a muddy quagmire and a group of walkers with a tiny dog coming the other way.  Turning right, we stopped by a tinkling brook to eat, surrounded by hewn rocks, tussocks, delicate cuckoo flowers, buzzing bees and small heath butterflies.  We then followed the treeline along the top of woodland.  Phil thought he spotted the named outcrop, but with others nearby, it was hard to be sure.  On the final steep descent, we gave our aching knees a break at a field where supine sheep grazed on overgrown grass.  A mother and lamb lay comically at right angles.  “Push-me-pull-ewe!” A refreshing breeze up top dropped significantly lower down, making us hot.  Luckily reaching home before heatstroke set in, I started editing photos but had to stop with fatigue.  (For a Fuller description of the walk, see ‘Cool Places’ii)

Blackburn overtook Bolton as the epicentre of Indian variant cases.  Concerned Ravi Gupta of Nervtag called for further easing of restrictions to be postponed and sage bod Susan Michie warned: “We’re on a knife-edge. Either it could run away as it did at Christmas or potentially it could be contained. Everybody’s behaviour could potentially make the difference.”

Useless George trolled out the familiar government line about not making a decision until 14th June.  Ministers wanted all over 50’s to get 2 vaccine doses by 21st June (didn’t they know it took a month to be effective?)  As infections rose in Hounslow, Twickenham rugby stadium offered jabs to anyone over 18.  People were left fuming after queuing for hours in the heat when the drugs ran out. The OECD predicted UK GDP would grow but less than other G7 countries and said worldwide recovery could be uneven due to disparities in vaccine distribution.  Rishi Rich called the forecast “testament to the ongoing success of our vaccine rollout and evidence our plan is working.”  If you say so!  UK travellers had to demonstrate ‘compelling reasons’ for going to France and quarantine for 7 days.  From the Have I Got News For You repeat, I learnt of a cloak and dagger operation to smuggle posh food deliveries into Downing Street, paid for by a tory donor’s wife, and that The Bumbler and Nasty Patel wore jackets with their job titles sewn on – in case they forgot, obvs!

Bespattered

Large Red Poppy

In spite of a bath the previous night, my muscles ached Tuesday, including my buttocks.  Had I strained my gluteus maximus?  Cleaning the kitchen, I got distracted by the state of the toaster after recent heavy usage.  I expunged a mountain of crumbs and bespattered the sink.  I spent the rest of the morning writing, then went to get cash and a top-up shop.  It was all going on, on the street below; the shed people worked outside while tanning, naked kids paddled in a small pool and neighbours chatted inanely.  I arrived at the co-op to discover I’d forgotten my purse so slogged back and forth in the heat.  The ATM bafflingly let me go through the whole process before failing to dispense any money.  I omitted a couple of groceries to stay within budget, dodged half-term kids running amok and asked at the kiosk about the cash machine to be told in characteristically brusque fashion: “It’s nowt to do with us!”  Back home, I filled 2 bags with garden waste, and slumped on the sofa hot and exhausted to gulp water before having a lie down.  Early evening, a bee buzzed the wrong side of the living room window.  I tried to usher it out but it became stressed so I left it.  In the process, I noticed a pocket watch Phil had been fixing on the floor.  He crawled around searching for the tiny hands only finding one, and seemed to think it was my fault. “Don’t blame me. I’m always telling you not to put things on the floor!”

The WHO renamed variants in line with Greek letters:  Alpha, Kent; Beta, South Africa; Gamma, Brazil; Delta, India.  For the first time since 30th July 2020, no UK covid deaths were officially reported but cases in Yorkshire rose 19% within a week, although numbers in hospital fell. Covboost trials started in Leeds and Bradford, using 1 of 7 vaccines (AZ, Pfizer, Moderna, Novavax, Valneva, Janssen and Curevac). Prof. Dingbat concurred with the official message that there was ‘nothing in the data’ to warrant abandoning the roadmap. “From a societal point of view, I think it’s really important that we go ahead on June 21st…we’ve got to look at the collateral damage…(and) the impact of economic damage that would be caused by further periods of delay and uncertainty.”  Prof. Finn disagreed.  With people still vulnerable, the job wasn’t yet done and going ahead with easement ‘may be a bad decision’.  Boris chimed in: “We need to work out…to what extent the vaccination programme has protected enough of us, particularly the elderly and vulnerable against a new surge.  And there, I’m afraid, the data is just still ambiguous.” 

Heathrow re-opened terminal 3 to separate red list arrivals at long last.  As the eviction ban ended, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation said 800,000 tenants were at risk of homelessness and half had already received notice.  Discussing a new pollution charge for brum-brums in Brummie, some befuddled idiot on BBC Breakfast advocated placing monitors away from the road – well, that would make levels drop!  It was later announced there’d be a 2-week delay imposing fines while people got used to the idea.

Buttocks still hurting Wednesday morning, I forced myself to do exercise.  I noticed bits bespattering the bedroom rugs, gave them a quick wash and hung them on the line.  Carefully hoovering the living room, I saw no sign of the missing watch hand.  I worked on the journal and enticed Phil with the promise of ice cream in the sun after lunch.  Waiting for him outside, I caught up with the elderly neighbour sat reading in the shade.  She seemed much better and less befuddled than last time we spoke.  We went into town where Phil popped in the convenience store while I collected a Boots order.  A couple of damaged items bespattered other purchases and a faff ensued processing the refund.  Finally able to get cash, we swerved through the busy square for ice cream cones from the sweet shop.  No free space, we crossed to the memorial gardens and found a bench to scoff the rapidly-melting treats before continuing into the park, resplendent with leafy trees, rhododendrons and large red poppies.

4,330 new cases and 12 deaths were recorded but 75% of adults now had 1 dose of vaccine and 50% had 2.  The Salesman announced help for school kids to catch up.  Additional tuition and an extra year in sixth form amounted to 1/10th of the budget originally slated.  He promised more to come but not when.  A baffled Tsar Kevan Collins (who I’d never heard of but worked on the plans) resigned, saying the package fell short, was too narrow and betrayed “an undervaluation of the importance of education.”  ‘Yeah,’ I thought, ‘that’s cos they’re all toffs who went to posh schools’.  Some tories did criticise the pathetic sum including Rob Halfon who said the money could’ve been found behind the sofa and wanted books not tanks.  Speaking of which, NATO sec-gen Jens Stollenberg called for the immediate release of Roman Protasevich, an ‘impartial international investigation’ and the sanctions agreed against Belarus to be fully implemented.  A 4-day bank holiday weekend was proclaimed in honour of the queen’s platinum jubilee a year hence.

Bedevilled

Welsh Poppies

Duller on Thursday, we spent a dull day at home cleaning and working on laptops.  Wanting to store winter jumpers, one really stank and needed a good wash first.  I thought it wise to have a siesta after skipping it the day before.  However, it was of little use and later, I could barely keep my eyes open or my head up.  Developing a sore throat and the scary sensation of being unable to swallow, I took aspirin at bedtime but woke hot and sweaty several times during the night.

As Indian deaths reached 335,102, incidents of the Delta variant rose to 7,000.  Bolton and Blackburn were still bedevilled with 3,000 cases. The so-called UK leaders’ Covid summit was in fact a pointless zoom meeting.  Sturgeon and Drakeford said there needed to be ‘hard outcomes’.  Meanwhile, G7 health ministers met in Oxford to discuss addressing the global vaccine issue and draw up a Pandemic Preparedness Roadmap.  The ‘100 day mission’ would be presented to G7 leaders next week.  Sarah Gilbert, inventor of AZ, called for them to share vaccines more widely and UNICEF wanted them to donate 20% of doses June-August, saying it could be done without disrupting existing programmes.  In changes to the travel traffic lights, no countries were added to the green list, Afghanistan, Bahrain, Costa Rica, Egypt, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Trinidad & Tobago turned red and Portugal went from green to amber.  The Cock said it was because of a new Nepal mutant of the Delta variant but the WHO bafflingly claimed there was no such thing.  Effective from 8th June, sun-seekers felt betrayed and scrambled for flights back before having to quarantine and take extras tests.  Labour cried ‘chaos’, the Portuguese government ‘failed to see the logic’, Antonio Costa railed: “we can’t have a system of instability and change every 3 weeks” and EasyJet chief Johan Lundgren called it “a huge blow…with Portuguese rates similar to those in the UK it simply isn’t justified by the science.”

3-D Pen3 developed by Prof. Noam Sobel of Israel’s Weizmann Institute, identified coronavirus in the nose with 94% accuracy by sniffing out volatile organic compounds.  Tim Brexit Martin incredulously proposed new visas for EU workers to fill Wetherspoons vacancies.  He denied he had staff shortages or changed his stance on Brexit: “A reasonably liberal immigration system controlled by those we have elected, as distinct from the EU system, would be a plus for the economy and the country.”  Phil guffawed and I wondered: “would that be attracting the brightest and best bar staff, Tim? How about paying more than minimum wage?”  With 50 days to go, a practice medals Olympic ceremony was held.  Tokyo 2020 president Seiko Hashimoto was ‘100% convinced’ the games would go ahead but 80% of Japanese polled wanted them cancelled, 10,000 volunteers quit and 100 areas pulled out of hosting duties.

A  QT questioner asked were the government waiting for Marcus Rashford to step in over the paltry £50 per pupil budget for extra tuition?  Airhead tory Lucy Frazer blathered about giving laptops to schools and Labour’s Peter Kyle laughingly claimed kids were breaking into schools.  He didn’t like the idea of Freedom Day, as 21st June was dubbed, or the amber list.  Veteran broadcaster Jenni Murray was scared and confused.

Friday, I was yet again bedevilled by fatigue and sinusitis.  Phil also felt unwell but managed to get brekkie .  I bathed, stuck a sarong on, fetched coffee and the laptop, and went moodily back to bed to draft and post blogs.   Meanwhile, Phil worked downstairs and shopped for weekend supplies, finding a few things missing from the co-op shelves, notably leafy veg (no doubt due to a rash of barbecues).  I got a few minutes outdoors to help him hang sheets on the line – a precarious task as we both wobbled, but nice to catch a blast of sun and a glimpse of Welsh Poppies in the garden.  Returning to writing, the laptop’s fan went into overdrive so I called a halt before it burst into flames.

Phil interrupted evening film viewing asking for a pen to write down a bafflingly long password.  “What is that for?” “ Block chains.” “The devil’s work!”  He later assured me he’d only created an account and hadn’t stumped up any actual cash yet (or bitcoins for that matter).

The R rate up to 1-1.12, 11 deaths were recorded and ONS data showed covid cases rose 76.5% 22nd-29th May (the highest since 16th April).  Most were in the North West, followed by the East Midlands and South West with slight rises in the West Midlands and London.  Up more among over 35’s and 11-16 year olds, James Naismith of Oxford University put it down to 2 factors: the easing of lockdown measures and the Delta variant.  Prof. Ferguson warned the figures pointed in a negative direction and the government should  be cautious.  The Pfizer vaccine was approved for 12-15 year olds and the government asked JCVI to advise on routine vaccination of teens.  Trussed-up Liz’s latest trade deals with Iceland, Norway and Liechtenstein, encompassed her beloved cheese, pork, poultry and fish, nurses, lawyers and vets.  Did digital documents involve satanic block chains?

Befuddled

Austerity Roast

Saturday morning, I tottered downstairs with a wobbly head and returned to bed to work on blogs.  Going to town, Phil discovered it heaving as ever in the blazing heat and an old pub mate about to become a granny.  I went back down for lunch but my head drooped.  I lay drowsily on the bed.  Unable to sleep, I was disturbed when Phil barged in, oblivious to my closed eyes.  Annoyed, I turned over and made another futile attempt.  After dinner, I managed a longer spell in the living room to watch films and drink delicious but risky red wine.  I fell into a coma at night-time only to wake in the early hours.

Befuddled by the wine, we both struggled to come round Sunday morning.  Mostly cloudy, the sun came out at 3 and I got more depressed being stuck in bed during nice weather.  Finding inspiration from ye olde Bean Book, Phil concocted a ‘wartime roast’.  It resembled more of a Sunday dinner than we expected and prompted jokes about austerity cooking and ideas for variations.

On Saturday, much of Scotland moved to level 1, except the central belt which stayed at level 2.  5,341 new case were identified and 4 deaths announced on Sunday.  The Cock told Marr the Delta variant was 40% more infectious than the Alpha, making decisions on easing ‘difficult’.  But ¾ of cases were in people who hadn’t been vaccinated and those hospitalised recovered more quickly.  Infections and in-patients also fell in Bolton.  BBC news asked: ‘would we face a wave or a ripple over summer?‘ and said ministers needed ‘every scrap of data’ before the decision in 8 days’ time on whether to forge ahead with the roadmap.  Sage bods predicted 2,000 hospitalisations a day by August and Prof. Reicher called it ‘very foolish’ to relax the rules.  As under 30’s were offered jabs, queues formed at dawn to save ‘Freedom Day’.  I repeat: didn’t they know it took a month to be effective?

References:

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

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

Part 47 – Silly Games

“There’s no endgame that sees one country succeeding in controlling the virus while the rest of the world is dealing with rampant spread” (Salim Abdool Karim)

Peaky Jabbers

Haiga – Sinking

Exhausted by insomnia Monday morning, I forced myself up and opened the curtains to a sparkling scene of a thin coat of snow and dazzling sun.  Briefly forgetting my woes, I said we should go for a walk, after the essential tasks.

Taking rubbish out, an icy wind blew into my face. I decided it was too cold for walking.  The window cleaner’s hose was wrapped round our dustbin to stop people tripping on the steps.  As he emerged from the higher terrace opposite, we chatted awhile.  A load of crap dumped in the bin required fishing out with biodegrading rubber gloves and a stick, risking frostbite or worse.  By the time I’d cleaned up after the horrid job, it was 2 o’clock and my previous enthusiasm was overtaken by malaise.  Outdoor plans scrapped, I worked on the journal and aimed to do yoga but time ran away with me again.  It was one of those days…

32 new vaccine sites included The Black Country Living Museum used as a film set for Peaky Blinders.  “Peaky Jabbers!” I quipped, though the chances of Cillian Murphy turning up were slim.  ONS figures showed that during 2020, manual workers suffered the most deaths from Covid-19, especially in production, security, chefs, and drivers (men), retail & wholesale, carers and social workers (women).  The TUC said workplace fatalities were ‘vastly unreported’.  The RMT, headteachers, prisons, posties and shopworkers clamoured to be prioritised for immunisation. The Covid Operations Committee, aka COC, met to decide on tighter border controls and quarantine hotels.

Ever the populist, a day after Matt Cock said it was too early, Boris hinted at easing lockdown after vulnerable groups were inoculated.  Mark Harper of CRG called for slackening by early March, starting with schools.  Already sick to death of media coverage on the impact of school closures, teenagers on Newsnight moaning that it was ‘weally hard’ wore down my sympathy for the younger generation.  As if not attending class was the worst thing ever with hospitals full and people dying!

The last 12,000 jobs at Debenhams would go as Boohoo were buying the brand and website but not the shops.  Later acquiring Dorothy Perkins, Wallis and Burtons, and Asos about to purchase Topshop, Topman, Miss Selfridge and HIT, it could be the end of Arcadia on the hight street, apart from possibly the flagship Oxford Street Topshop store.

NGS-SA, a consortium of medics looking into the South African variant, found 23 mutations, of which 20 caused amino acid changes and 8 were in the spike protein.  These allowed greater transmission and replication in the host, leading to quicker spread.  With some evidence of more resistance to natural antibodies, they said it was ‘likely’ vaccines would still work, subject to further research.

Tuesday proved even worse than Monday.  In the damp monochrome afternoon, I set off for Boots.  A woman crouched down to finger practically every item on the shelf, selfishly blocking the aisle, until I politely asked her to shift for me to grab mouthwash.  I collected my online order from the cash-desk and retreated to decant items from the unwieldy box into my rucksack.  Vials spilled out of a hair dye carton, hazardously undone.  Now in a bad mood, I considered skipping the grocery shop but persevered.  Kids running haphazardly in the congested co-op aisles made me swear.  Swerving contact, I sped round for essentials but paused when I saw a product recall notice for seafood we got at Christmas, making a note to return it.  At the kiosk I asked to speak to a manager.  When he appeared, I explained my angst at the busyness of the shopfloor.  Rather than an apology for the stress caused let alone any thanks for bringing the matter to his attention, he defensively said: “we can’t watch the floor all the time.”  Fuming, I stormed out.  Back home, I took toiletries up to the bathroom, got washed and collapsed on the sofa.  Relating the obstacle course to Phil, he said: “it’s those essential coffee-cup worker kids coming out of school, obvs.”  “Yes but why did they have someone on the door during the first lockdown to limit numbers and not now?   And why do those middle class coffee-cuppers still think they are special?”  It made me think again about the hubris of some, when everyone was in the same boat (apart from celebs).  He kindly sorted the groceries so I could go for a rest, but my mind whirred, still perturbed by the shopping experience.  And while there were less comings and goings on the street below, I was disturbed when shed boy returned in his rickety van from no-doubt essential building work (sic).  Reflecting on the trials of the past 2 days, I reasoned at least the errands were done leaving time to do something more enjoyable midweek. In the evening, a fine fog swirled smoke-like beneath the streetlamps.

Dicing with Death

Sorry My Arse!

UK official deaths doubled in 2 months to reach the grim milestone of 100,000, a 3rd of them care home residents.  The highest in Europe, only the US, Brazil, India and Mexico had worse stats.  Sage bod Calum Semple predicted another 50k fatalities before the pandemic ‘burns out’.  Keir, self-isolating for a third time, called it a ‘national tragedy’ and trolled out the old ‘behind the curve at every stage’ line.  Appearing at the briefing, The Bumbler apologised and said he took full responsibility – sorry my arse!  And to think that on this date in 2020, positive tests numbered 50.  Oh, halcyon days!  On a more positive note, over 7m now had the vax and hospital admissions were the lowest since New Year, but there were still more in-patients on ventilators than ever.

200,000 job losses Sept-Nov 2020 led to a 5-year unemployment record of 5% (1.72m).  It would have been much worse without furlough, currently supporting 2.4m posts, down from the May peak of 8.9m, when firms shed staff before it was extended.  Business leaders urged a re-extension of the scheme in Rishi’s March budget.

Rising on Wednesday, I immediately felt wobbly with a clogged nose and had to get back in bed.  Pissed off after only 3 days up and about and reluctant to submit to a relapse, my depression reached a new low.  I told myself I wasn’t missing much as the weather stayed grey, belying the forecast for an improvement.  I hoped the debilitation would be short-lived this time but alas, it proved not to be.  While I wrote on the laptop, Phil cleaned and shopped.

A week after escaping the floods, the Wockhardt factory was evacuated after a suspicious package required the deployment of bomb disposal.  A Chatham man later arrested for sending the parcel, we weren’t told if it was actually a bomb. The Bumbler briefed the nation that 8th March was the earliest date for school re-opening and promised a plan to come out of lockdown week beginning 22nd Feb, dependent on vaccine progress, hospital admissions and fatalities.  Patel finally said going on holiday was illegal and berated social media influencers sun-bathing in Dubai and skiers heading for Kings Cross.  Travellers from certain countries would be bussed to Covid hotels, paying £1,500 for 10 days quarantine.  The ‘red list’ due to come into force next Friday, included South America, Southern Africa, Portugal, UAE and some dot islands.  Best Western’s UK CEO Rob Paterson said the chain could quickly sweep into action, but later expressed dismay at the lack of firm plans.  Was he that rare animal – a businessman who wasn’t in league with the tories?

A virtual Keir appeared at PMQs to repeat’ slow, slow, slow’.  He asked: why was the UK death toll the highest in Europe? why did quarantine only apply to certain countries? and why weren’t all inbound travellers tested and quarantined immediately?  Keir slapped down an evasive Boris for trolling out the worn-out insults, said he had ‘no plan’ and pleaded for the urgent inoculation of keyworkers.  This time able to ask both questions, Ian Blackford berated Boris for not ‘following the science’ as he claimed and called for financial certainty on furlough and UC: “stop the dithering and delays!”  Des Swayne MP (not seen on the green benches) told an anti-lockdown group that stats on the virus “appear to have been manipulated.”  Scolded by the tory chair, Angela Rayner demanded stronger action.

After a week of anti-curfew rioting in the Netherlands, businesses were boarded up and at least 180 arrested.  Fires were lit in the streets of Amsterdam and Den Hague.  No surprise to me, having previously experienced hair-raising New Year trips!  One of their favourite pastimes seemed to be setting fire to cars.  Pfizer found their vaccine effective against the SA variant while Moderna developed a booster for theirs.  Chair of the SA coronavirus advisory panel, Salim Abdool Karim said: “no-one is safe until everyone is safe…There’s no endgame that sees one country succeeding in controlling the virus while the rest of the world is dealing with rampant spread…we all need to stand together.”  Prof. Tulio De Oliviera, the scientist who discovered the variant added that travel restrictions were futile: “I find it almost silly…trying to block a country, because we know how fast this virus spreads and in how many places.”  He called on governments to avoid ‘virus nationalism’ and apply broad quarantine rules to all international travellers.

A good night’s sleep aside, I still felt ill on Thursday. I spent all day in bed writing my novel and collaging.  Phil spent all day on the phone telling people Shutterstock wasn’t working.  The problem persisting into the following week, at least it was earning the dollars.

Paperchase

Euphoria Salon Escapees

In the face of criticism on slow rollout and angry at Astra-Zeneca limiting supplies to the EU, the European Commission had threatened vaccine controls.  Nads Zahawi played down fears imports of Pfizer would be blocked, saying 367m were on order from different sources.  EU health commissioner Stella Keryakides said: “we reject the notion of first come first served.”  Set to approve the AZ vax Friday, Germans found ‘insufficient data’ of effectiveness on the over 65’s.  Nads dismissed the claims.  AZ boss Pascal Soriot advised the UK was doing right delaying the second jab 12 weeks and bragged that all over 50’s would be immunised by the end of February.  Wading into the kerfuffle, Sturgeon threatened to give supply figures to Europe (already available in the form of ‘spin’).  She also criticised Boris for visiting the Valneva lab in Livingston north of the border, maker of yet another vaccine.  Meanwhile, Novavax planned to make 60m doses in Teesside.  Almost 90% effective on the Kent virus and 60% on the SA variant, it was set to be the 4th vaccine to gain approval.

With an upward trend since Christmas week, police had so far issued 42,000 fines, 80% to 18-39 year olds and 250 for mass gatherings including 2 organisers of the Woodhouse Moor snowball fight.  “Why no fines for Londoners sledging on Primrose Hill?” I asked. “Because they weren’t Leeds chavs,” replied Phil. “We were told it was students.” “I doubt it. Not dressed like that.”  Clients escaped from a police raid via the fire exit from the Euphoria salon in Cwmbran.  The owner was fined £1k,  Casa Cruz got a £5k fine for Rita Ora’s birthday bash but she escaped sanctions herself.  The disproportionality was striking.

The issue of ‘vaccine nationalism’ discussed on QT, we were reminded of the EU land border on the island of Ireland.  Was there actually a good side to Brexit?  “I’ve always said the EU is just a giant pile of coffee-cuppers,” declared Phil.  The problems of getting a bunch of nations to agree manifest, maybe the UK government was right to appoint a venture capitalist to head up a taskforce, thus delegating the job to a non-politician.

And oft-derided investors saved the Paperchase chain, including many of the chain’s high street shops.

On a nondescript Friday, I initially felt better after a good sleep, but my sinus symptoms soon returned.  Resigned to bedrest, I continued work on the secret collage, wishing I’d never started, or used paper rather than Photoshop.  It was so fiddly cutting round those pixels!  Phil went to the co-op for a ‘freezer filler’ of pizza and garlic bread.  Again, we didn’t drink too much wine while watching films but overnight, I had two dreams like movie plots.  The first resembled a crap cheap sci-fi with Mars cop robots.  The second featured WW1 soldiers as sooty ghosts.  Relating them to Phil, I complained: “we watch too many sci-fi and war films”.  “It’s good for your imagination,” he countered, “WW1 gets in your head.”  We thought there might be some mileage in the latter idea.

1 year since the first UK case of coronavirus arose in York, paper books chosen for genre or colour rather than content, sold ‘by the yard’ to fill shelves in zoom backgrounds.  The Janssen vaccine showed 60% effectiveness after 1 dose, including on the SA variant. Prof. Paul Heath, leader of the Novavax trial, said the technology existed to deal with new strains with the possibility of ‘bivalent’ vaccines.  The EMU approved the Astra-Zeneca vax for all adults, despite German claims of ineffectiveness on OAPs. Aiming to stop exports from Europe until the end of March, Brussels introduced more paperwork in the form of a ‘vaccine export transparency mechanism’ and planned to invoke Article 16 to stop product crossing from ROI to NI.  After condemnation from London, Belfast and Dublin for breaking the Brexit agreement, it was hastily withdrawn.  Arlene Foster called it “an incredible act of hostility.”  Playing silly beggars, more like!

Over the weekend, I stayed mainly in bed spending far too long on the collage, making my head ache but I eventually finished it.  Brighter on Sunday, we remarked on the noticeable change in light over the last few days, even when grey.  Phil visited the nearby clough to report it totally sodden.  Poaching overripe pears for dessert made my back ache and my mood plummet.  Cheered by the tasty fruit and ice cream, I sat up to watch telly after dinner but had a mediocre sleep.

A record 600k jabs on Saturday brought the total to 9 million.  Discussing overstocks going to less fortunate countries, shadow minister Rachel Reeves said the UK should inoculate its own vulnerable people first – very socialist, I’m sure!  Her erstwhile boss Tony Blair waded into the paperwork row, admonishing the EU for being ‘foolish’.  Macron defied speculation on another lockdown, shutting France’s shopping malls and non-EU borders instead.  Across Russia, protests in support of Alexei Navalny involved dancing on ice and brandishing golden bog brushes – a reference to the Black Sea mansion allegedly owned by Putin.  Liz Truss negotiated to join the Comprehensive & progressive Trans-Pacific Partnership (C&PT-PP).  Emily Thornberry wondered why the country spent over 4 years leaving one trading bloc to join another.  Fun and games!

Reference:

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

Part 25 – The Nudge Unit

A Flurry of Wets

Storm Francis Hits Landfall

On a sunny Monday, I forced myself up to do exercise, in spite of tummy ache. Posting blogs took ages as WordPress changed the format to something called ‘block editor’.  Unable to see how to align photos, I thought of changing back to ‘classic editor’, but that cost money.  I almost cried with frustration!  Eventually, Phil helped figure it out.  Allegedly the change was to make inserted pictures look better but I couldn’t see any difference.  The morning gone, I really wanted some rays but had to wait a while for the gripes to subside.  By the time we were ready to go out it was 3.30.  As usual, Phil needed the shop.  As we made our way to town, insisted on picking berries from a meagre crop of blackberries near the old builder’s yard. In the always-busy centre, we visited a couple of shops and lingered awhile near the river.  Back home, a pile of kids were clambering over our garden bench.  I told them off, then hovered to make sure they behaved, while a woman emerged from next door (probably the mother).  As she started taking photos of the kids posing in front of the wall, I said pointedly: “when you’ve quite finished with my garden, I was going to clean up.”  This was half-true; I had thought earlier of sweeping dead weeds into a binbag before the rubbish was collected early next morning but hadn’t felt up to it.  I  forgo a siesta in an effort to shift the interlopers.  it didn’t!  I swept up regardless and eventually they did move off, with the residents of next door, only to loiter further down the street.  Phil came out and made to help but I advised against it I was almost done and he had clean hands.  Stuffing a bargain quiche in the freezer, I discovered squishy Magnums.  We ate the messy but tasty treats outside to avoid spillages.

Watching catch-up on My5 in the evening, the internet bombed repeatedly.  And each time the programme resumed, we had to watch adverts, including for the thing we were trying to watch!  As the internet flaked out again right near the end of the last episode, we gave up.

Tuesday, I rose slightly later after a decent sleep, performed a few chores and was just about to sit with a cuppa, when the British Gas engineer rang to say he’d be half an hour.   A responsible, physically-distanced visit concluded with him informing us the central heating was functioning well.  Of course he had to give us the spiel about it being an old boiler and offering a quote for a new one.  “We Can’t afford it”.  We said in unison.  “Who’s got money for that type of thing right now?” I added. 

I worked on the journal in the afternoon but became unable to focus.  I briefly rested my eyes then switched to smaller tasks, including trying to book an Ocado delivery to find no decent slots, and texted some friends.  Needing a complete break from technology, I went upstairs, did yoga, and lay down to read and relax.  A variety of external noise made repose impossible.  With the arrival of Storm Francis, traffic splashed through surface water on the main road, goods trains careered by, and works vans revved.  Local news reported that heavy rain had caused flood sirens to sound but amongst the other racket, I didn’t hear them.   In fact, we seemed to get off quite lightly again compared to other areas of the country.  Not that that would be the case with the Co-op bank branch closures.  The lay-offs were bound to badly affect this region.

Boris called the BBC ‘wet’ for announcing they would not be singing the words to patriotic songs at the prom finale.  That was rich from the biggest wet going!  The WHO now advised all people over 12 to wear face-coverings.  Compulsory in school corridors north of the border, Tory MP Marcus WetFish called it ‘scientifically illiterate guff’ while our government refused to change the guidance.  Later, ministers announced a partial U-turn saying that in ‘areas of national intervention’, masks should be worn in transition areas.  Heads rolled in the form of Sally Collier, head of Ofqual (clearly a scapegoat for the recent debacle) followed the next day by DFE Permanent Secretary Jon Slater, with Boris passing the buck on a ‘mutant algorithm’ for the exam results fiasco.

A good day for Astra-Zeneca, they started trials of the catchily-named drug AZD7442.  Consisting of 2 monoclonal antibodies, extracted from people who’d had Covid-19, it was a preventative for those exposed and a curative for those infected with coronavirus, possibly effective for 6 months. Meanwhile, Trump planned emergency authorisation for the vaccine developed by AZ and Oxford University. 

A Brexit Interlude

Brexit Turnip

Newsnight reported on Brexit including a leaked dossier from the Cabinet Office.  Disaster planning included food drops on the Channel Islands, massively increased PPE and testing capacity (sic) and troops on the streets, to mitigate shortages and rioting.  This prompted much mirth at the prospect of turnips for Christmas dinner and a post on ‘Brexit Island’ for the first time in a while.

A Slightly Sad Day for Pie Fans

Overgrown Grocer’s Yard

Tummy issues re-surfaced on Wednesday.  Not helped by watching Jeremy Vine as I became incensed at Carol Gammon not getting challenged on her terrible mask ‘science’ with no one citing the recent research on their effectiveness. My tweet went unacknowledged.  Cleaning the living room rendered me exhausted and irritable.  After a coffee break, I worked on the journal until lunchtime.   Phil said he needed to go to the shop and asked if I wanted to come.  Still feeling uncomfortable, I agreed. On the way, we saw the elusive courgette grower for the first time, pruning his raised beds which take up whole chunks of pavement.  Errands done, we wandered round town and noticed the old grocer’s yard was very overgrown with the cobbles almost indiscernible beneath opportunistic grass and weeds.  Round the corner, we bumped into an old friend for the first time this year.  With similar mental health issues, we chatted about liking lockdown and fighting the system (having both recently won battles).

Last Sunday evening in Kenosha, Wisconsin, Jacob Blake had been shot seven times in the back by police as he entered his car where his children sat.  His family said he was paralysed from waist down.  Protests continued in several US cities and 2 people were shot dead by a white vigilante.  Melania Trump called for calm and not judging people on colour (sentiments not echoed by her husband).

Thursday started better.  A submission for the next issue of Valley Life magazine was due.  I worked on a draft and was quite pleased with ‘Autumn Symphony’ if I say so myself!  On the market, I waited ages at the fish van as the queue hardly moved.  I would never get how some people could afford to buy up practically everything  on the stall, with the price of fish these days!  It made my bit of trout look meagre.

The government announced payments of £13 per day for people on benefits asked to self-isolate in the ‘high risk areas’ of Blackburn, Pendle and Oldham, with possible roll-out if the pilot worked.  Council leaders called the nudge a ‘slap in the face’.  Czechia, Switzerland and Jamaica were added to the travel quarantine list, starting at the now habitual time of 4.00 a.m. Saturday.  A pamphlet was issued saying 5g was safe. I doubted the hippies would take any notice.  It was a sad day for pie-eaters as a Covid-19 outbreak hit Greggs distribution in Leeds. And a sad day for latte-drinkers.  Pret A Manger shed branches and staff, confirming our prediction that all the economic nudging to keep coffee shops afloat was a waste of money. 

A Very Sad Day for Marvel Fans

RIP Black Panther

Friday was positively yukky.  Suitably attired for the stormy conditions, I embarked on the weekly co-op shop.  A woman reached into the chiller cabinet, picked up packs of humus, peered at them for ages then put them back.  Waiting on the other side of the aisle, impatience got the better of me.  As she moved slightly to the side, I took a large stride and reached in to quickly grab what I wanted saying “before you touch very single one!”  Inevitably done in when I got back, I took time to recover before starting work on a 2021 calendar based on my haigas.

Local restrictions were due to be eased from weds 2nd September, for most of Bradford, Calderdale and Kirklees, but not Halifax, Batley, Dewsbury, Bradford City or Keighley.  With the picture also patchy in the GMC area, it looked blatantly racist.  Big news in Metro but not even mentioned on telly news, fast-tracking of licensing was proposed to enable the use of vaccines before the end of the year.  To coincide with the new school term, and with 9/10 people wanting to stay working at home, government planned adverts aimed at getting people back to workplaces. Announced by Grant Shatts, hypocritically from his house, ‘Inside the Nudge Unit’ took pride of place on the bookshelf behind him.  Obviously where he got all his tips.  Printed media reported that they’d threatened redundancy if people stayed away from the office.  The last time I looked, the government had no jurisdiction over individual workplace policies, thus had no right to say that.  Labour MP Lucy Powell called the comments ‘unconscionable’ and Sturgeon said workers should not be intimidated into going into offices.  Indy Sage accused the government of abdicating responsibility, saying what was really needed was a functioning TIT and a ‘workplace charter’ to ensure safety: “Threats and slogans won’t get us out of this pandemic.”

Sadly, Chadwick Boseman aka Black Panther, died aged 43.  He’d suffered with bowel cancer for 4 years but continued working – a great loss to the comic film industry. 

A Rude Awakening

Haiga – Impressions i

Saturday morning, I tried to sleep late but had to get up for the loo.  Bad enough having to go so early, there was then a very loud impatient rapping on the front door.  Phil belatedly started down the stairs, asking “did someone knock?”  “It’s probably kids.  Ignore it.  They’ll be  gone by now anyway.”  Phil went back to bed.  I went down to fetch tea and saw a Post Office card for him with illegible sorting office collection times.  He’d been invited to take part in a trial.  Also from Imperial College, but different to mine, it was to see if he actually had Covid-19.  Having filled in the on-line questionnaire he awaited the testing kit which was probably the contents of the package.

As dismal weather persisted, I worked on the journal and 2021 calendar.  Then I made a banana and date loaf (eating some warm out of the oven with lunch), and  Phil cut my hair.  I was just cleaning up afterwards when he shouted down to the kitchen very loudly, making me jump!  Thinking something bad had happened, he mildly asked what we still needed from the shops.   Gone ages, he eventually returned to say town was packed with drunks outside all the pubs.  The traditional bank holiday weekend shenanigans, despite the awful weather.

Bright at first, Sunday soon reverted to type.  I had a terrible night.  Coupled with dismal conditions, I was disinclined to go out, and Phil equally so.  I continued 2021 calendar designs and nicked the new cover haiku for use in my weekly blog.  The rest of the time, I watched telly, bemoaning the severe lack of Bank Holiday specials – not like the old days!

Days before the new term yet more guidance for schools was issued with different tiers: tier 1 – all in school.  Tier 2 – rota system for secondary pupils, (if  a rise in cases).  Tier 3 – secondary pupils work at home.  Tier 4 – full lockdown (last resort).  Meanwhile, universities warned that students returning risked a ‘second wave’.  They should have thought of that earlier.  ‘Unite for Freedom’, an anti-lockdown protest inhabited Trafalgar Square and coppers broke up illegal gatherings.  There was a huge rave in wales and in WY police issued 8 £10k fines, mostly in Leeds.  A flight from Zante contained infected people.  Appalled fellow passengers claimed TUI didn’t enforce mask-wearing and failed to inform people for 5 days.  In response, the company said a full investigation would take place.

References:

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

Part 23 – Down in The Dumps

The First Pint

Haiga – Contraption i

The week started warm, muggy and overcast but rain only materialised in a pathetic dribble overnight.  A dismal day of chores was brightened by a phone chat with the friend who’d messaged about mum last week.  I was interested to learn that while the majority of her client contacts continued on a remote basis, she had started seeing them face-to-face in her role as a social worker.

Tuesday, I found a nasty spill in the fridge.  Caused by defrosting prawns, the stinky pink goo seeped right down to the bottom shelf, making a helluvah yukky job to clean it out. I’d booked an annual boiler service, with a time-slot of 10-2.  The phone rang several times duringthe day, usually stopping before we could pick up.  Twice I caught it in time, to hear a robot tell us our Prime subscription was about to be renewed.  Phil had already done it weeks ago!  At 12.20, British Gas finally rang to say the engineer was running late and would arrive after 2.  I told them it was not acceptable after waiting in all morning and changed the date so we could to go out for the afternoon.  I planned to put the washing lines up first, but the window cleaner’s van arrived, making it impossible.  Instead, I chatted to our elderly neighbour, thanking her for the condolence card.  I related details of mum’s funeral and issues with Big Sis.  In spite of my neighbour’s earlier claims she’d had Covid-19 years ago, she was surprisingly in agreement with me that it was better to err on the side of caution.  Whingeing about having to wear a mask to visit the doctors, she accepted it as a courtesy for the protection of others.

We set off on a walk, through shady woodland to hillside settlements and dithered before cautiously approaching a country inn.  Hitherto not open mid-week daytime, we espied a couple of punters with glasses in hand.  Phil suggested a pint.  I hesitantly agreed.  This would be our first pub visit since lockdown!  The front entrance extolled social-distancing and the application of hand-gel.  Did I use the dispenser before or after turning the door handle?  Chairs with more signage and gel bade us wait to be seated.  A young lad directed us through the occupied beer garden to extra tables in the carpark.  A short wait ensued for the table to be cleared and beer to be brought.

Pub Toilet Sign

Although the pub instigated the majority of suggested measures, I was surprised that they didn’t clean the tables when people vacated, and the staff wore no PPE.  I also realised later they hadn’t taken our details for ‘track and trace’.  A fellow pub-goer of years gone by shouted over from the beer garden.  We laughed as she said Phil looked like a significantly older regular at our one-time local.  She then asked “is he still alive?”  None of us had any idea!  Predictably, Phil wanted food after one drink. 

The lad went to fetch menus then told us they were fully booked for dinner.  The draw of the mid-week Dishi Rishi meal deal!

The temperature dropped slightly as a gust of wind blew grey clouds upwards from the misty valley.  A car pulled up and the landlady emerged, grimacing at the humidity.  She agreed with me that a storm might come: “I like the proper ones.”  We used the Covid-secure facilities littered with more hygiene notices before departing.

We walked back along tarmac, veering off lower down for the coolness of trees once more.  Skirting the town centre, we considered eating at the Italian restaurant but pre-booking was essential.  Dinner out scuppered, we went to the co-op for quick tea inspiration.  (For a description of the walk, see Cool Placesii)

The return of hot sun on the speedy descent, made me rather fraught.  Phil insisted on stuffing the groceries into his shoulder bag even though I had carriers for the purpose.  Back home, I became angry as he slung the shoulder bag on top of a clean hand-towel I’d only put out that morning!  I calmed down with a cooling ice lolly and reviving coffee.

Phil unearthed a story about Liz Truss spannering trade talks with Japan over Stilton cheese, demonstrating an incredulous lack of cultural awareness.  Let’s not forget her 2014 tirade about the British cheese trade deficit being a ‘disgrace’.   She really needed to let go of the cheese obsession!

The sound of soft rain and distant thunder at bedtime was quite relaxing hut failed to lull me to sleep.  I  sifted through crap in my head.  All Covid-related, it encompassed the conversation with the neighbour and the pub visit. Unable to pinpoint specific concerns, I used the meditation soundtrack and eventually fell asleep but woke far too early.

Slumps And Slides

Melting Helios

Hot and thirsty Wednesday morning I was unable to sleep in. I put a pair of shorts on for the first time in years.  Slightly too small for me when purchased last year and thus never worn, they now hung off my waist!  I spent the morning on boring housework, seething at hapless men every time I looked outside.  A flabby, topless bloke sorted a binbag full of socks in front of the house, then another parked under our window, before driving right through freshly laundered towels.  I’d only just put the dam things on the line!

We ventured out in the burning afternoon sun.  Following a few errands, I suggested a visit to the park and bought ice cream cones from the café hatch.  As we sat on the grass eating the fast-melting treats, I noticed Helios in the flowerbeds also melting.  Their petals endearingly curled downwards in the heat.  Walking back along the canal, it became even hotter on the aqueduct where a heron stalked on the island.  In the shade of home, I lay on the bed hoping to catch up on sleep, but the bedroom seethed like The Med!  Still unbearably humid in the evening, grey cloud cover suggested a proper storm might be in the offing at last.  This would be a welcome relief as long as it was not too heavy – flooding and landslides caused havoc elsewhere, including a train derailment near Stonehaven in Scotland, leaving 3 dead.

UK deaths from Covid-19 and other causes were down, allegedly due to social distancing, hand-washing and mask-wearing.  I’d always said don’t go to work if you have a cold!

On the other side of the planet, Auckland totally locked down after 4 confirmed cases – even I thought that was OTT, especially as the infected were all members of 1 family.  None of them had travelled abroad and investigators were seeing if the virus arrived in NZ via freight.   A well-known local conspiracy-theorist entered into a spat with our councillor, leading to some witty retorts on Twitter.

In other news, the expected recession was official.  The April-June 20.4% slump was the worst in history and the worst of all developed countries.  ‘World beating’ again!

The migrant wrangle continued throughout the week.  On Monday, the MOD said it was ‘potty’ to use the Navy against desperate people while Boris promised  to change the law to stop them coming, with no details on how.

Wednesday, government minister Chris Philpot went to Paris to discuss ‘measures’, again not spelt out. 

Detention Action said no. 10 were ‘misleading the public’ and ‘must create a safe, legal route.’  The deputy mayor of Calais said ‘British hypocrisy’ was to blame – migrants came to the UK as it was easy to work in the black economy (ouch!)  Nasty Patel retorted that dinghies crossed the channel because the French were racist – how to win friends and influence people!

I struggled to stay awake after dinner.  With the severe lack of sleep recently, I hoped that was the cause and not that I was getting ill again.  Thankfully, I had a much better night.

Thursday morning, it was cloudy and cooler, but storms had still not come. The Ocado delivery arrived as arranged.  The driver moaned at length about the lack of turning space in our cul-de-sac, eventually conceding it was his problem.  When he moved off, I hung bedsheets on the line for the first time in weeks. Sad it may be, but I’d missed the sweet smell of air-dried bedding  A couple of hours later, I glanced out the window to see the washing pole at a dangerous angle. I went out planning to secure it, finding the sheets already dry, and delightfully scented.

News was dominated by the A level results debacle.  Failing to learn the lessons from Scotland, the fireplace-salesman-turned-education minister Gavin Williamson, had come up with a bewildering selection of solutions for students unhappy with their grades, as moderated by an algorithm.  As some grades dropped from a teacher-predicted A to a U, the government said appeals would be free.  Students still marched on Westminster over the weekend, leading to the most spectacular U-turn yet.

BTEC students at Leeds City College had to wait until evening for their results due to a computer glitch.  It served the college right for getting rid of all the people who could do stuff (including Phil).

In plague world, quarantine was finally imposed on travellers from France as well as Malta, Monaco, NL, Aruba and Turks & Caicos.  Official stats changed to downplay deaths from Covid-19 while infections were not reported due to more ‘tech issues’, whatever that meant.  A food factory in Northants which supplied butties to famous high-street chain M&S, had 200 cases of the virus – yuk!

With figures up in Bradford, Kirklees and almost everywhere else in Yorks (although slightly down in Calderdale and Leeds), local restrictions remained.  Not that anyone took a blind bit of notice.  Elsewhere, Boris announced further easement from Saturday, involving indoor theatres and music venues, casinos, bowling alleys, skating rinks, close contact beauty and soft play areas.  Bemused by the crucial nature of such activities to the economy, I asked Phil: “what are you waiting for?  Get out there to get your eyebrows threaded and jump in a ball pool!”  Wedding receptions of up to 30 guests were also now permitted and piloting of sporting events with spectators including the world snooker final and some conferences could take place.

Friday morning, I woke tired and achy after another crap night, bur forced myself out to the co-op. I brandished a voucher for something called ‘Echo Falls raspberry and lavender.’  A helpful assistant directed me to the seasonal shelf.  “Oh.  It’s one of them wines with no alcohol in it.” I said.  Laughing, she replied “It’s got 5%.  You know, for daytime.” “I don’t do daytime drinking.” “it’s about time you started!”

In the afternoon, I wrote a blog for Cool Places and pottered in the garden.  The young neighbour’s small child ran amok, pulling leaves off shrubs.  As he came dangerously close and attacked my hydrangea, I told him not to take things without asking.  Tongue-in-cheek, I called over to dad: “Oi!  Haven’t you taught your toddler social distancing?” Knowing  full well they had no such concept.

Malaise

Facts

At the weekend, the weather reverted to type: cool, damp and overcast.  Saturday cloud was forecast to lift but it didn’t.  I felt really tired, and Phil had terrible pain.  I eventually took painkillers which made him drowsy.  He resisted the urge to sleep even though it would have done him good.  He lolled on the sofa, going slightly doolally.  I baked a chocolate and orange cake.  Adapted from an easy BBC recipe, I whisked until there were bubbles in the mixture but it still didn’t rise much.  It tasted great though,  if I say so myself.  I took a pile of recycling to the bins.   The young couple looked as though they’d invited their entire extended family for a barbecue in the middle of the street – following the local restrictions to the letter (not!)  Phil fought through the drug-induced loopiness to cook dinner.  “I’m wiped out after that.” “ I know how that goes when you’re not well.”   The bargain bottle of Echo Falls tasted light and fruity.  The co-op woman was right; it would be perfect for an afternoon picnic.

Sunday I felt wobbly.  Unlikely it was caused by the weak wine, I conceded I was ill again!  I bathed and made breakfast but had to go back to bed.  Thankfully, Phil wasn’t in as much pain so I was glad for him but miserable for myself (with only just over a week free of the sinus lark).  I told him off for making me laugh when I wanted to be miserable, like the weather.

Stuart Christie

Working on the laptop, I designed a birthday card for Brother 1 and undertook some research.  A news report at the start of the week about a demo by StandUpXiii, prompted me to finally look into what these conspiracy-theorists actually believed.  Admittedly, much of the ‘facts’ they referenced about coronavirus are not incorrect.  But as I maintained from the start, their slant on the pandemic (that only old and ill people died) smacked of self-interested sociopathism.  As did their anti-mask, anti-vac and anti-TIT stance.  They also believed 5g emitted harmful radiation and was needed for when we all got implanted with micro-chips, being developed by The Gates Foundation, so we could be tracked at all times.  Did the idiots not realise their every move was already tracked from their own personal tracking device (i.e. the smartphone in their pocket)?  Not Unsurprisingly, the loony David Icke was behind a lot of this bollocks.  I started to assemble the facts I’d garnered over the past few weeks into something that made sense.  This took all day.  ‘Theories and beliefs’ were still to be dissected.

Talking of beliefs, the Scottish anarchist, Stuart Christie died aged 74.   A legend in his own lifetime, and most famous for his part in a failed plot to assassinate Franco, he never lost his belief in true freedom.  As one commentator observed ‘God or the devil, better be ready for a right good argument… ‘

References:

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

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

iii. StandUpX: https://www.standupx.info/

Part 21 – Nobody Knows!

I Don’t Like Mondays

1 - Haiga - Startled
Haiga – Startled i

On a wet, grey, blustery Monday, I rose feeling achy and iffy.  A busy round of chores and blog-posting took ages, compounded by a flaky internet which made my head ache.  I ventured outside to dispose of rubbish in the nasty weather.  The Woman next door asked me what day the refuse collectors came. “Tuesday,” I answered politely, wondering why she only asked now having lived there for months.  Mind you, the house-owner was a notorious hoarder so maybe she kept up the tradition. I got cleaned up and faffed with a mask.  The handy tip of washing glasses in soapy water failed to prevent fogging while attempts to achieve a tighter fit with hair grips and slides were useless.  I bad-temperedly put a scarf on instead.  Then I couldn’t find my shoes.  They were buried under piles of Phil’s footwear, leading to a rant.  He offered to go to the shop for me.  Exacerbated,  I said “It’s too late.  You always wait ‘til I’m totally stressed out before offering to help!”  He replied stroppily that he was busy.

When I’d calmed down, I explained (again) that I knew he was working but with him always in the house and creating mess, he needed to help more, especially on Mondays.  I set off in the loathsome anorak, trying to keep the blasted scarf wrapped in place.  When succeeding in covering my face, I couldn’t see at all!

I stomped home with an over-stuffed rucksack (I should have taken a bigger bag).   Phil insisted on sorting the shopping, saying it would be quicker.  I left him to it and collapsed on the sofa to wind down.  We agreed it was a shit day – and not just the weather.

To misquote Jane Austen, ‘tis a truth widely acknowledged, that Mondays are crap.  Nobody knows why!

Unmasked

2 - Daft Drinking Masks Mosaic
Daft Drinking Masks

The government defied pleas to exclude the Balearics and Canaries from Spanish quarantine requirements, instead confirming they were included.  A UK cat caught Covid-19 from its owners.  They all recovered but it demonstrated cats were not immune.  On Newsnight, Yanks from the ‘Centre for Bullshit’ discussed how the polarised political responses to the pandemic (e.g. left-wing: wear masks; right-wing: it’s just flu) would have sounded improbable a year ago.  All well and good, but where did the hippies fit in?  Nobody knows!

The railcard had arrived Saturday, 2 days too late to be of use, and well beyond the 5-day expected delivery time.  On Tuesday, I wrote a complaint letter, sent an e-mail version and sparked up the printer for a hard copy.  It was so long since I’d used it, I forgot how to load paper!  A running joke on Pointless provided some light relief as contestants repeatedly answered ‘Gammon’ to a series of questions.  Firmly in the lexicon, now!  The joke continued into Wednesday morning.  Jeremy Vine discussed the unhinged Brexiteer Ann Widdecombe leading a campaign for a ‘mask-free’ shopping hour.  I was all for it: the gammons and hippies could go and infect each other while we stayed safely away.

After lunch, we posted the letter to the railcard people on the way to town.  I hurried into the convenience store for a few groceries, forgetting to put my mask on.  It was a good job they knew us!  I hurried out again, applied the face rag and planned to go to Boots.  Put off by the queue, I nipped into another shop across the street instead.  Phil peered through the chemist window searching for me and I called loudly to attract his attention.  Passing the busy pub patio on the corner, he wryly asked “Do you fancy a pint?”  “There’s no free tables.” I sneered.

Musings on the mask dilemma led me to think maybe I needed smaller ones that fitted my tiny head or maybe bandanas. In the evening, I experimented with bits of material I’d previously dug out for mask-making and decided I could use them as they were.  Tying them tightly round my head meant my glasses didn’t steam up so much. Following a successful ‘flame test’ experiment, I hemmed round a long piece of white material and  pretended to be Johnny Depp (although if he lost his libel case that might not be so cool.  Was it him or Amber who lied?  Nobody knows!)

During a mediocre night, I had funny dreams wherein mum directed her own funeral.  I also recalled one from the previous week where she directed her house-clearance (which had been done 2 years ago when she moved from the bungalow into care).  There was a message in there about not being told what to do anymore!  Phil said “dead people do that.  It’s annoying isn’t it?  It will last a few months.”  I replied “you don’t know that for sure.  Nobody knows.”

With a surge in confirmed cases of coronavirus in several European countries including Spain, Germany and Romania, the UK experienced above-average deaths over the past week, and Oldham saw a sharp spike.  World-wide, big rises were identified in the USA, India and HK. As Bumbling Boris warned about the dangers of this ‘second wave’, I spluttered in disbelief: “we’re not over the first, you moron!”

Thursday morning, it took ages to come round, then I sprang into action cleaning the dusty bedroom.  We snorted in derision at arguments on Jeremy Vine about whether people should be going on holiday.  The subject was given far too much air-time (sic), as though it were a right not a privilege.  While empathic to the urge to have a break, especially having been stuck in one place for months, it seemed a ludicrous idea to fly in a ‘tin can of death’, inhaling recycled air, to go sit on a beach wearing a mask.  You’d have been labelled a pervert for doing that last year.  And with Jet 2 telling people on Spanish breaks to come home early, you’d have gone through all that hassle for a couple of days in the sun – bonkers!

As Storm modelled a drinking mask (resembling a re-purposed baby mask with a liftable mouth flap), I told Phil he should have cracked on inventing his own device with a tube.  Subsequent google searching sadly unearthed a plethora of similarly ridiculous devices.

I set off for the market.  Although town was very busy again, there were no queues at the stalls. While buying fish, I heard someone say hello to me.  I turned to see the owner of Valley Life magazineii.  She came round to pick up her order and held out a copy of the bumper-sized mag, heralding a return since publication was suspended in March.  I told her I had one through the letterbox yesterday; quarantined to read later.  I eschewed the craft bread stall as they accepted contactless payments only (apparently, some hipster joints had been ahead of the curve in ditching cash before the plague).  Loaded with toiletries and veg, I considered the butchers and bakers but couldn’t be bothered donning a mask so went home.  After lunch, I tried to do some writing but fatigue coupled with an unusual pain in the back of my head forced me to rest.

Not knowing if the strange head pain was sinus-related or muscular-skeletal, I took painkillers at bedtime.  They worked rather too well.  Friday, I got woken by Phil telling me it was quite late.  Peevishly, I asked the time, then groggily looked for myself and grudgingly accepted it was time to rise.

Eid Mubarak

3 - Bee fly 2
Bee Fly

Very late the previous night, a bewildering sudden announcement imposed restrictions in northern parts of England, including our area.  Effective from Friday, Matt Cock told residents in Blackburn, GMC, and 3 areas in West Yorks (Bradford, Calderdale, Kirklees) not to meet with other households in ‘indoor settings’.  No accident it was Eid eve, the local Tory MP outrageously said the BAME community (i.e., Muslims) were not taking the pandemic seriously.  In the inevitable backlash, I agreed with Baroness Warsi for the first time ever, who called his remarks “divisive nonsense.”  A neighbouring MP pointed out that hostelries throughout the district, not traditionally frequented by Muslims, were packed.   Glad someone else took my side on the pub debacle, I doubted the atrocious government would take any notice.  We queried how they knew the rise in cases was due to households mixing.  Were there ’Block Stasi’ after all?  Were we all being tracked?  There was fodder for the conspiracy theorists there…

With much confusion at first, clarification came in dribs and drabs.  The Cock’s initial utterance suggested the restrictions applied only to private homes and gardens.  Within minutes, a spokesperson had to clarify it also meant other indoors places including pubs, but you could still go in the beer garden, an epicentre of infection.  Friday morning’s edition of YEP informed us we could still travel to other areas but the same rule of not meeting up applied.  The Mayor of GMC said ‘about bloody time’ while Sturgeon advised Scots to not travel to Northern England and for those already in the area, to ‘minimise contact’ on their return.  Newsnight looked at the effectiveness of the Leicester Lockdown, where the Corbynite Mayor again berated the ‘sledgehammer policy’.  There, severe cases requiring hospitalisation and deaths were dropping, belying central government messages and suggesting more asymptomatic people testing positive.

On what proved to be the hottest day of the year so far, I prepared to go to the supermarket, applying a ‘germ rag’ to my fizzog.  Paying at the kiosk, I chatted to the cashier (a fan of my Valley Life column) about the confused mixed messaging and complained that I couldn’t see due to spec-fog.  “Take the mask off, I don’t care.” I baulked at that.  After sorting the groceries and a spot of lunch, we set off down the street with pop and ice lollies.  Children in beach-wear enjoyed water fights in the fierce mid-afternoon sun.  We strolled to the park and settled on grass abutting the wildflower patch to eat the already melting ices.  Music from the skate-park gave the air of a chill-out zone at a festival.  We noted the local restrictions made little difference to the usual antics.  Phil observed things could only get worse with 5 months to go until actual Brexit – Nobody knows what a mess we’d be in then!

Seeking distraction from the doom and gloom, I took photos of flowers and spotted a variety of insects including a ‘bee fly’ (a type of hornet, I found out later).  We then walked slowly round the park and onto the towpath.  As we reached our neighbouring street, a woman sporting all the PPE, cut a man’s hair outside his home.  Apparently still allowed, we discussed the travails of lockdown hair, Phil’s hairdressing skills and randomly, the joys of Deptford Market.

Bumbling Boris gave another daft briefing.  Further easing of lockdown was postponed for at least 2 weeks. Face-coverings were to be mandatory from 8th Aug in many enclosed venues (e.g., museums, galleries, cinemas, places of worship) with a “greater police presence” to enforce it.  I reflected there couldn’t be any less presence round here.  As data showed the UK had the highest number of excess deaths during the first half of 2020 (‘world-beating’ again!)  Witless said we had “reached the limits” of what could re-open safely.  The next day, Prof Meddlesome said pubs may have to shut to allow schools to open in September.  I’d already told The Cock to do it now.

Defiance

4 - Des Res
Des Res

Saturday remained warm but changeable. We stayed home, occupied with chores, computer work, cooking and telly.  I struggled to stay awake during the evening film-viewing as my eyes closed, head drooped, and the pain in the back of my skull returned.

Overnight rain brought a cooler feel to Sunday.  The morning started grey and showery although skies brightened later.  I still felt achy and tired but made an effort to get up.  Elder Sis sent an update on mum’s financial affairs.  All proceeding as expected, I was glad to hear the tenants had somewhere to go when the bungalow was sold.

Sunday afternoon, we wandered out for some air. Phil needed the shop.  I thought we might have a short walk first but he was intent on the errand.  The centre rammed again, in defiance of the recently imposed new restrictions in the region, a gang of ageing bikers inhabited a favoured spot amongst throngs in the square.  One wore a fox stole – very Mad Max!  Acquiring the essentials, we visited the large charity shop.  Emerging empty-handed, we found the others shut, dithered about what to do, then bought pies for a handy lunch.  We walked on the riverside and continued into a cul-de-sac.  A for sale sign boasted a dilapidated workshop included a garden – rather a grand claim for a scrappy strip of grass.  Not what I’d call a ‘des res’.

Ubiquitous Himalayan Balsam sprouted amid rusting car wrecks.  Piles of tyres were artily arranged in front of patchwork buildings. Over the small humped bridge, waterside flowers already went to seed.  We’d planned to sit and eat our pies but as the  benches were occupied, the wind whipped up and I suddenly felt worse, I suggested  a different way home instead.  Steep steps took us to the top road, then down onto the old cobbled packhorse route, where we nipped in a small cemetery.  Recently spruced up, yellow ragwort inhabited narrow spaces between Victorian gravestones, overlooking hillside settlements.  Back home, Phil took the few groceries to the kitchen then went upstairs and didn’t come back to help with lunch, making me angry.  I shouted in frustration.  This in turn put him in bad humour.  He also seemed to be in pain for which I said sorry but didn’t apologies for my outburst; he knew I felt ill.

Media highlighted another busy weekend at the seaside with fights in Brighton (like the olden days).  Speculation on ad-hoc measures being considered encompassed confining Londoners to within the M25 and confining the over 50’s to home.  We’d already had this suggestion before the first easing of lockdown.  Even I might be tempted to have a street party in defiance of that ludicrous idea!  Anyway, with all the face garb we had to wear, nobody would know how old we were.

As the evening wore on, worsening symptoms suggested yet another bout of sinusitis.  An inevitably crap night led to several days in bed (again!)

References:

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

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

Part 16 – A Sting In The Tale

Courting Disaster

 

1 - Haiga - Dispersal
Haiga – Dispersal i

Severe fatigue continued into a sunny Monday.  I was thoroughly pissed off at still being in bed.  From the landing window, I saw our garden stuff had been moved, with plant pots dragged out from beneath the bench and the compost bin hauled from the corner.  Phil put them back, commenting it was probably kids.  “They shouldn’t touch other people’s things, should they?” I fumed.  Mustering the energy to go downstairs, shooting pains assailed my legs on the stairs.  I cleared piles of pots in the kitchen and took coffee back up, to work on the laptop, posting a haiga and a journal entry.  I made another trip downstairs to take the recycling out.

Bindweed strangled a Christmas tree near the back wall.  As I yanked some off, insects buzzed angrily round my head, too fast to see what they were.  I got stung on the back of my right hand.  The sharp pain made me scream with shock.  I ran in shouting “What do I do?”  Phil quickly diagnosed wasp sting and told me to put vinegar on it.  The alkali eased the excruciating pain but left an angry red mark.  Wiped out, I collapsed wearily back on the bed, wishing I’d never got off it!  As my hand became itchy and started to swell, I took antihistamine and googled additional tips.  Over the next couple of days I doused it frequently under the tap and applied soothing creams to prevent myself scratching it.

Stonehenge featured on the news again, with the discovery of ‘Dunnington Walls’ 3 miles away, with a ring of large pits acting as a boundary.   Excited archaeologists said it was where the monument builders ‘lived and feasted’ and  ‘a new chapter’ in understanding the wider prehistoric landscape.

A banner flew over the Etihad Stadium reading ‘White Lives Matter – Burnley’, coinciding with players ‘taking the knee’.  Police intended to investigate if any laws had been broken. We predicted they would conclude they had not, more’s the pity.

Following a reasonably good sleep, I felt much better and significantly less fatigued Tuesday, if still achy.  The wasp sting turned yellow, then morphed into a pink swollen lump.  I started to worry.  I took it easy, only venturing downstairs for meals. Reading in the afternoon, I couldn’t keep my eyes open, tried to sleep, then droning male voices drifted in.  Exacerbated, I fetched coffee and turned the TV on.

The last of the pointless daily briefings (quelle domage!) confirmed the easing of lockdown restrictions. Bumbling Boris stupidly declared ‘national hibernation’ was ending on 4th July, aka ‘Super Saturday’, with 2 metre distancing ditched for ‘1 metre plus’ (referring to ‘mitigation’).  Pubs, hairdressers, outdoor gyms, playgrounds, cinemas, museums, galleries and places of worship could open, with provisos.  ‘Close proximity businesses’ such as indoor gyms, nightclubs, nail bars, and theatres were excluded. Detailed guidance released later contained a mix of obvious stuff and micro-advice about ketchup sachets.  Pubs had to offer table service and take contact details of punters.  “People will just lie”, I commented.  Phil said “it’s like doing TIT on scraps of paper.  Will the county clerk have to compile it?”  Larger family parties and overnight stays were allowed, even B&B and camping, but the government warned they wouldn’t ‘hesitate to apply the brakes” if the relaxation backfired.

Fire Fighting

2 - Extensive Den 1
Extensive Den

Wednesday, I woke at 6.00 a.m.  I went to run my incredibly itchy hand under the tap and realised I actually felt wide awake. Too early to get up, I tried sleeping more, to be disturbed by Phil crashing to the loo.  Dozing lightly for a while, I rose to another warm, sunny day and decided I was better, apart from the scarlet hand.  Phil volunteered to lacerate and get the poison out -I declined the offer.  Cleaning the kitchen was like fire-fighting after 8 days in bed: crumbs everywhere, slime on the chopping board, rusty marks on drainer, a spill in the fridge… the living room was also a tip.  I whinged, prompting Phil to hoover which was a start.  I tried to explain how much there was to do in the kitchen.  He interrupted; “I was planning to do some later”.  “You still can. The  cooker and floor need doing.”  “I’ve  been busy working.”  “Yes, I know, but you’re always here.  It’s not fair to leave it to build up when I’m ill in bed.”

On PMQs, Bumbling Boris still insisted the TIT system was great and referred to ‘cluster busting’.  The sloganeering made him sound like he worked for an ad agency.  Keir retorted that the PM “dodges the question and gives dodgy answers”, to be accused of speaking like a lawyer.  Err, that’s because he was.  Better that than an ad man!

With no improvement in the sting injury, I contacted the GP surgery to be told a clinician would ring later.  More fire-fighting ensued as the garden again resembled a jungle.  Carefully avoiding the wasp area, I set about expunging brambles, bindweed and goosegrass while awaiting the call-back,  The practice nurse sounded unimpressed by treating the initial sting with vinegar.  I assured her it was a tried-and-tested traditional treatment.  She recommended hydrocortisone cream, necessitating a trip to the chemist.  Phil accompanied me to town, on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year.  A tardy ‘hot weather warning’ advised us to drink water, use sun cream and not leave hand gel in cars as it might set on fire!

Down the road, I noted a child’s den made of sheets had expanded somewhat since my last trip out.  At the chemist, I waited briefly until it was safe to enter and quickly grabbed a couple of items. Due to the one-way system, only one aisle led to the tills.  An ancient lady nipped in before me.  Cursing silently, I hung back as she edged forward on her walking frame.  On arrival at the counter, she quizzed the pharmacist about a missing prescription and made them ring the doctors.  I impatiently took a deep breath.  A man tutted loudly behind me before flouncing off.  At last, it was my turn.  Supplied with the cream, they stressed  not to use it for more than 5 days), as it thinned the skin.  That sounded alarming!

When I eventually emerged, Phil stood about in the road, his favourite pastime.  In the convenience store, we bantered with the cashier, an old acquaintance, about the curiously-named ‘marmalade on toast’ digestives.  Phil could not resist the temptingly displayed impulse buy. They proved tasty if rather sugary.  Walking slowly back home, new cordons and signs adorned retail areas. The launderette displayed an ‘open’ sign: had it ever shut?  The sweet shop owner stocked his shelves.  We stopped in front of the doorway for a few words, joking that in our book, sweets were essential and didn’t understand why he’d had to close.  The friend who’d isolated herself for 3 months, sat on her doorstep sewing.  As we chatted, I kept safely distant, but moved a little closer as she’d gone deaf in one ear.  Phil said it was a lack of exercise!   While stuck in the house she’d unearthed a book I lent her years ago.  I said I’d call round another day to collect it.

The Source

3 - Wasp Nest
Ingenious Wasp Nest

Following the usual tussle with packaging, I applied the cream, had a coffee and went back outside to tackle more bindweed.  I tried cutting the death-like tendrils from the top of Christmas tree.  The wasps started buzzing, so I retreated.  Phil came to investigate and located the nest hanging on a bottom branch of the tree.  Never having seen one close up, I was awestruck by the paper construction – ingenious!  We discussed the possibility of moving it.  Phil did some research and asked: “where would you put them?  The queen can’t move out of the nest.” “That’s why it would be better to get a specialist in.” “But they would just kill them.” “Let’s leave it then.”  “Anyway, they might sod off after heavy rain.”

That night, I managed a decent lump of sleep, but woke at 6 a.m. Thursday.  Hot after a sweltering night, the itchy hand and a whirling mind mitigated against more sleep.  I gave up  at 7.45, put cold water on my hand, and did some exercise.  Phil stood blocking the telly, doing one of his mimic voices.  Thinking he took the mick out of me, I shouted at him to stop.  He retorted angrily that he was aping someone on screen not me.  I apologised but in my defence, he did it to me an awful lot.  I delayed a planned trip to the market until after coffee.   A light breeze made the errands more bearable in the heat.  After lunch, I thought I might take the Covid-19 anti-body test.  I retrieved the information booklet from the quarantine area uncontaminated but as I read it, realised I also required the letter for an access code, which I had mistakenly touched with unsanitised hands.  The process seemed quite complicated with several steps.  I would need to plan when and where to do it.

Postponing the task, I went to the garden and cautiously moved a planter from the corner.  Potato plants had grown high suggesting time to harvest.  I dug up 5 tiny spuds. “ Another bumper crop!” I declared sarcastically.  Phil said I didn’t leave them long enough but they were at least a year old so maybe the soil wasn’t deep enough.  At least I didn’t get stung – having learnt to respect the wasp and not disturb the nest.  I swept up some weeds, became overheated and had to stop.  On the evening news, there was a piece about our plastic waste going to Turkey for burning.  Simultaneously, acrid smoke seeped in.  For a second I thought it was smell-o-vision!  Of course it wasn’t, as I discovered when I popped outside to find the young neighbour barbecuing on the community garden wall.  I went over to ask her nicely (as I had last summer) to please do it down in the garden in future so the smoke didn’t blow straight in our windows,  She seemed a bit put out but agreed.  Later, I realised I’d been quite close to her (my first lapse in 3 months!) but as we weren’t face-to-face, I didn’t fret too much.

Covid-19 outbreaks emerged in food factories, including Germany, Wales and Kirklees. Unions blasted employers for not taking health & safety seriously, only giving workers SSP meaning they had to work when ill.  Although there was no evidence the virus could get into the food chain, I vowed to steer clear of processed meats.

Reminiscent of the 1980’s Battle of Brixton, 20 coppers were hurt as violence erupted at street parties. Hordes infested Bournemouth beach leaving 3 stabbed and an unholy mess in their wake.  The local MP complained about not being able to close beaches.  Matt Cock said HE could, but later, the government said it was up to the council.   They didn’t even understand their own rules!  That’s what you got making it up as you went along!  Witless wittered about risking a second peak and Boris berated people for ‘taking liberties’.  So much for ‘common sense’.  I’d long suspected the government’s tactics were a cynical ploy to deflect responsibility from the government to the public.  Here was the proof.

Amidst consternation about what was and wasn’t allowed to open on 4th July, it turned into a row between drinking and swimming.  My sister posted a link to an article about her local lido, asking why she couldn’t go there but could visit the pub.  The younger brother commented “the inconsistency has been consistent throughout”.  I said none of it made any sense to anyone anymore.  I couldn’t decide if the pub thing was a result of high-profile lobbying or part of the ruse to test out the ‘herd immunity’ theory.  After all, social distancing would be out the window after a couple of pints.

2 M or Not 2 M?

4 - Not 2 Metres
Not 2 Metres

Friday, I woke too early with cramp in my feet.  The weather broke.  Still warm and humid, it rained later but the promised thunderstorms didn’t arrive until the next day.  The sting felt less itchy and the swelling had abated, while the pink patch was smaller but redder. Phil said it looked more like a bruise.  He might have been right.  In any case, I gratefully stopped using the steroid cream, thus avoiding the risk of thinning skin.

Requiring several items from the co-op, Phil said he’d meet me at the check-out to help carry stuff back.  Thankfully, the rain had stopped but I donned an anorak in case of more showers.  I spotted my walking friend on her way to the bus stop a few yards ahead. I called to her, and we discussed  a ‘socially distanced’ meet-up soon.  Walking side-by-side to the zebra, she laughed with me at the not-2 metres markings.  The sun came out as we came out of the supermarket, so of course I was boiling hot in my anorak.  In the afternoon, we ventured to the park.  The café now offered take-aways (about time!)  We enjoyed ice cream cones, while unhygienic kids ran about.  Majestic teasels dominated the wild flower area.  Bobbies on the beat patrolled for once.  They arrested a drunkard.  Insisting he’d done nothing wrong, he swore at them – well, now you have, you idiot!  Exiting onto the towpath, we returned to the main road, where Phil had fun pacing the distance between the not-2 metres markings.  He reckoned it measured 1.7 at most.

More Stabbings took place, this time in Glasgow.  3 people died at a hotel housing refugees, with the motive unclear. As a costly makeover of RAF voyager was unveiled (at the behest of Boris), INTU, owner of huge malls went into administration.  Already massively in debt, was it the end of the shopping temple?  On the plague front, almost 1 in 4 people transferred to the TIT system were untraceable; so much for ‘cluster busting!’  Manuel Cortes of TSSA threatened rail strikes without ‘unequivocal assurances’ of distancing staying at 2m on trains, calling 1m plus ‘reckless’.

Having rained much of the night, Saturday dawned cloudy and grey.  More showers followed during the weekend, some heavy.  My hand no longer itched but was still warm to the touch.  I had leg and foot cramps again, and blamed myself for walking about in daft summer shoes.

5 - Blurry Heron
Blurry Heron

Very hungry first thing, I couldn’t be bothered wrangling the bread out of its mixed packaging and drank soya milk instead.  I opened the metro app for the puzzle special to discover they’d launched a new version that cost 99p – tight gits!  I spent the day editing park wildflower photos, drafting a haiga and cleaning the bathroom.   I spotted a heron on the small mill roof opposite, opened the window and grabbed a camera to take blurry shots.  I then shut the window pronto as I detected another downpour in the air.

Doing The Science

6 - Antibody Test Paraphernalia
Antibody Test Paraphernalia

At night, it again rained incessantly.  Early Sunday morning, loud squawking woke me.  Resembling raucous people coming back from an all-nighter, it might have been the angry geese!  Regarding miserable scenes out the window, Phil denounced it as “the wrong kind of rain”.  I replied “you sound like Northern Rail”.  He meant for taking photos.  I finally got round to administering the antibody test, with Phil on hand in case I needed help.  I had just lain the paraphernalia out on a thoroughly cleaned kitchen table and washed my hands for the umpteenth time, when my mobile rang.  It was someone else from the local Covid-19 support group.  I patiently repeated: “I am not self-isolating, tempting as the offer of free pizza is…”  she interrupted to say it was roast dinner this week.  Damn!  I told her I was about to do the test and she mentioned another research study she’d been involved in, tracking symptoms.  “That would be no  good for me with my chronic sinusitis!”

The test itself proved painless and easy to self-administer.  Phil’s assistance consisted of turning pages of the information booklet for me.  Two minutes after acquiring the blood sample, one line appeared, signalling a negative for anti-bodies.  We waited the recommended 10 minutes, but as expected, there was no change.  I took a photo of the result and logged on to upload it and take the survey.  Almost as long-winded as the prep, I took the opportunity to comment on the amount of paperwork and planning involved.  I imagined lots of people gave up without even attempting the experiment, and suggested they simplify it to encourage a meaningful sample of the population to participate.  Mind you, the whole thing might be totally meaningless as a bunch of scientists claimed antibody tests were ‘a waste of time’.

Phil visited the convenience shop, reporting town as ‘dead’, although he came across a trio of Asian women stood in a circle under a café awning whilst texting.  Were they on holiday?  The contrast to the previous weekend was uncanny.  The  rain did a grand job of dispersing local crowds.  But flouters still raved in London and celebrated winning the football league in Liverpool.  The Met admonished: “it won’t be tolerated”.  What were they going to do? It had already been established coronavirus laws had no teeth!

Global infections reached 10m with big rises in India and Russia.  Jeremy Farrar of Sage warned the next 3 months were ‘absolutely critical’ in the face of a severe second wave while Nasty Patel heralded a local lockdown in Leicester, due to a sharp rise in cases.  Many expected this to consist of a delay in re-opening pubs.

7 - Boris Doing Press-Ups
Boris Doing Press-Ups

Heedless Boris acted like we’d be back to normal in a few months, announcing funding for schools and prisons (a mish-mash of already-planned capital projects and manifesto promises, nicknamed ‘Project Speed’).  To prove he’d fully recovered from the virus, he performed ridiculous press-ups, boasting he was “as fit as a butcher’s dog”.  Hubris restored!

 

Reference:

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