“…inflation has reached its highest level in a decade. For ordinary workers and families, prices are going up at the very moment when they can least afford it. (they) need more than just a winter plan for covid; they need a winter action plan to fight a Tory poverty pandemic that is only going to get worse” (Ian Blackford)
Gas and Air
The next two weeks, summer continued. Monday 6th, I cheered up after a bad night with a laugh at Max Gammon and Ickle Owen Jones arguing on Jeremy Vine. Phil said they made a great couple! After the usual chores and blog-posting, I tried printing info for our upcoming trip, forgetting the PC still wasn’t connected to the new router. Becoming bad-tempered at the prolonged task, I went outside for fresh air and found a ginormous slug lurking beneath dead crocosmia in the garden. Young Student told me because they ate rat poison, slugs were fatal if eaten. “That sounds like an urban myth.” “No. A boy in Australia…” “Everything kills you in Australia!” “True,” she conceded. Disturbed by boisterousness on the street below at bedtime, I shouted “shut up!” through the bathroom window. They ignored me.
Most measures lifted for the start of term, schoolkids were meant to take LFT tests, a PCR if they had contact with infected persons, and isolate if positive. A decision on jabbing 12-15 year olds expected later that week, sage bod Peter Openshaw said they needed to ‘become immune’. In parliament, Goblin Saj announced an extra £5.4bn for the NHS. Boris pledged continuing efforts to rescue people from Afghanistan where the Taliban took Panjshir Valley, used tear gas on demonstrators and shot dead a pregnant cop. Women in Mazar-e-Sharif held a demo demanding a place in government. The Taliban effectively held four planes hostage at the city’s airport. Blair warned the Islamist threat was coming for us, requiring both hard and soft power to fight it. 1,000 migrants arrived in dinghies making the total 12,000 so far for 2021. Big Ben’s unveiling revealed numerals in original blue and George flags. The Welsh and Scots weren’t happy.
Interrupted by canal works Tuesday, I rose grumpily. Phil went out for last-minute gifts and groceries to find he was the only mask-wearer in the co-op. I painted the metal frames of the garden benches. The hammarite went on smoothly but worried I wouldn’t have enough turps, Phil bought some from the hardware shop before going back to the co-op to swap the decaff coffee he’d got by mistake. Decorating neighbour griped about the mill conversion blocking the road and Elderly Neighbour griped about everything. At least she had her partner, unlike my mum. I promised him a creole Christmas cake recipe. Surprised to already see new neighbours on the other side of the street, we joked with them that they didn’t hang around. Although we skipped siestas, we managed to stay awake to toast my birthday at midnight.
A Newcastle University study found 17% more deaths and 41 days more lockdown in the north of England during the first year of the pandemic. Denying plans for a firebreak in October half-term, ministers said there were ‘last resort’ contingencies. Nads Zahawi told BBC Breakfast we were now in a better place due to vaccines . Boosters for winter and later years were under consideration: “(to transition) the virus from pandemic to endemic status and deal with it year in, year out.” Announcing the anticipated hike in National Insurance, Boris admitted he broke a manifesto pledge but as “a global pandemic was in no-one’s manifesto,” was necessary. The extra 1.25% would be paid by all working adults, including OAPs, and raise £36 billion over 3 years to fund the NHS backlog and adult social care. There’d be a £86,000 cap on lifetime care costs and fully-funded care for those with assets of less than £20,000. Critics saw it as benefiting rich southerners and a tax rise on the young. Keir said: “The tories can never again claim to be the party of low tax.” Ex-health minister Cock claimed social care funding reform was “put in the ‘too difficult’ box.” by two successive governments. What a cock! A 1.25% rise in dividend tax wouldn’t apply until 2022-23, according to Therese Coffee-cup, so pensioners wouldn’t unfairly benefit from an ‘irregular statistical spike in earnings’. The Taliban interim government consisted of Mo Hassan Akhund as leader, Abdul Ghani Baradar as deputy and most-wanted Sirajuddin Haqqani as interior minister. Foot-soldiers arrested journalists and mindlessly fired into the air to disperse protestors outside the Pakistani embassy.
Fizzing and Floating
Aiming to sleep in after the late drink, I was again woken by canal works Wednesday. I rallied to enjoy a lovely birthday beginning with my favourite breakfast, reading cards and messages and opening gifts from Phil. We assembled goodies and caught a bus ‘up tops’. Detoured due to a road closure in the hilltop village, we wondered if it was roadworks or filming for the TV drama? Alighting after the next hamlet, we walked up to the farm shop for pop and proceeded down through the next village. The ‘no food’ sign on the pub-cum-campsite seemed daft with a captive audience. Maybe there were staffing issues. On the bridleway, floating willowherb fluff and the aniseed scent of angelica assailed our senses. Down in the clough, kids and dogs commandeered a favoured picnic spot. We ate our lunch on a nearby flat rock before proceeding, waylaid by a variety of fungi crazily sprouting from rotting trees, earth and wooden steps. Finding weird fuzzy mould on our fresh shop-bought mushrooms later in the week, Phil guessed they were infested with all the spores floating about. The main road blisteringly hot, I struggled on the last stretch. Unsurprisingly, it was officially the hottest September day ever. (For a fuller description, see Cool Places i).
Back home, I declared: “I’m dying for the loo.” “so am I.” “I’m too hot.” “so am I.” “I’m putting a dress on.” “So am I.” “Well, you could wear your sarong. But we’re going to the Thai place so they might think you’re taking the piss!” After changing, I lay on the bed in a stupor then got cleaned up for coffee and eclairs. I dithered over make-up when Walking Friend came knocking. She gave me a bottle of prosecco (that made 3 bottles of fizz), and awaited us outside.
Town pubs infested, I was grateful of spacious seating outside the restaurant for early bird dinners, accompanied by more fizzy prosecco at Walking Friend’s insistence. Saturn floated in the gloaming as did clouds of midges, having a feast in the canal-side air. Walking Friend insisted on paying the whole bill and wanting to buy her a drink in return, Phil led us to the corner pub. Still busy, I felt press-ganged but at least there was a free corner table. We talked about her new obsession with Wish. Feeling flush for the first time ever, she loved parcels dropping through the letterbox: “it’s like Christmas every day.” She then gave me a pouch of baccy. Overcome with her generosity, I pleaded: “if you don’t stop giving me things, I’ll cry! As she took her leave, we spotted Australian Hippy. Resembling a Zoolander character floating on rollerblades, he was making big money selling opals. Assailed by itchy bites (in spite of repellent) and sweaty hot flushes, I woke several times during the night. But it had been a wonderful day. In more affluent times I’d insist on going away for birthdays. Why bother when you can have it all in Yorkshire? (insect bites included!)
In a packed commons, labour MPs mostly wore masks, tories didn’t. The government defended the National Insurance increase before voting. Ironically, labour voted against but it passed anyway. After mistaking Rashford for a rugby player, it was intimated The Salesman was on the way out (correctly, as it turned out). Nasty Patel met Gerald Darmanin and suggested the bribe could be withheld if the French didn’t intercept more migrant crossings. He attacked reports of her sanctioning push-backs of boats to the continent, said they wouldn’t accept any measures that broke maritime law, and would not be subjected to blackmail. The manoeuvres were widely condemned as dangerous and against UN treaties.
Overnight rain led to a grey and humid Thursday, the heavy air presaging storms. I gave up on fractious sleep as engineering works recommenced, forced myself to clean the bedroom, became overheated and bathed. Feeling overwhelmed with only 4 days until our trip, I concentrated on doing one thing at a time. I texted Walking Friend to say thanks for the birthday night out, posted a photo from the walk to say thanks for birthday wishes and worked on the computer. In the afternoon, I went to the co-op, finding the cash machine not working and gaps on shelves. On the way back, I waited while Young Mum and Toddler descended the steps as he cutely counted them. I just got in when a rumble of thunder signalled a heavy shower. Having to clear a full kitchen sink before sorting the shopping, I had a slight fit and exhaustedly collapsed on the sofa. Phil asked what was up. I kept schtum but he swung into action, washed up and sorted laundry. Unable to focus my eyes, I lay down but failed to rest. Thankfully, I had a better night.
MHRA approved Pfizer and Astra-Zeneca for boosters, still awaiting JCVI advice. The government launched a 6-week consultation on mandatory vaccines for more frontline health and social care workers. As coffee-cuppers returned to offices, Costa Packet announced a 5% pay rise and 2,000 new jobs. Crush-hour prompted criticism of bare-faced commuters on tubes. The ‘condition of travel’ not legally enforceable, London mayor Khan wanted a government review on mask-wearing to be brought forward from October. Anti-mask posters housed razor blades to prevent them being taken down. Brexit import controls delayed again, until July 2022 because of covid and supply chain issues, and tighter rules on Northern Ireland trade delayed indefinitely to allow for further talks, Geoffrey Donaldson threatened the DUP would seek to block additional border checks under the protocol and leave Stormont if they failed. Sinn Fein leader Mary Lou McDonald called his comments ‘irresponsible’.
Another night of rain could have explained the lack of canal noise Friday morning. I ironed a few items and selected clothes to pack, spending ages failing to find anything to go with the new £1 skirt. After wasting half an hour, I picked out a dress instead. In the evening, we drank more prosecco and posh chocolates while watching films.
Holyrood made vaccines mandatory to access nightclubs and other venues from 1st October. The next day, ONS stats showed 1:45 Scots were infected. The highest rate in the UK by some margin, Sturgeon said the Covid Pass wasn’t a magic bullet but may mean not having to use other measures. A lack of guidance prompted some wag to say clubs had longer cocktail lists. The Food and Drink Federation predicted shortages were here to stay but Downing Street insisted the supply chain was ‘highly resilient’. Look North reported a shortage of abattoir butchers. Saying it was cruel, surely it was good for the pigs. Gordon Ramsay restaurants lost £5.1m profit during lockdowns and KPMG set a target of 29% of their workforce to come from working class backgrounds.
We spent a changeable weekend mainly indoors. Saturday, Phil trimmed my fringe which seemed to have grown unevenly into my eyes. I then packed and rang the holiday cottage owner for a nice chat about the internet and War of the Roses, wrote a haigaii, put some recycling out and went to the co-op for cash and a small top-up, impeded by gangs of teenagers hanging about. At bedtime, I unusually fell asleep with the light still on. Waking at 8 the next morning I, almost got up, realised it was Sunday and slept another hour. I was annoyed by bowls floating in a scummy kitchen sink but as Phil struggled with tummy ache, I let it lie. He finished his packing while I draft-posted blogs.
Andrew Marr harked back to Jon Ashworth’s previous statement that opening up on 19th July was ‘reckless’. Jon replied it depended on your definition of ‘reckless’: the virus was still circulating and 8,000 were in hospital. He said abuse of powers under Coronavirus Laws needed looking into but Goblin Saj maintained it was important to keep the powers to ensure the infected self-isolated. Days after they became law in Scotland and other ministers said they were a good idea, he confirmed the planned introduction of Covid Passes at the end of the month wouldn’t happen in England.
Breath-Taking
Sleeping through the gentle wave sounds of the DAB alarm for several minutes Monday morning, I panicked slightly, worked through a list of jobs and packed lunch while Phil cooked a filling breakfast. Taking recycling out, a cavalcade of neighbours attempted to drive down the street, blocked by the mill development. Fortunately, this didn’t impede our walk to the station. The journey was trouble-free but slow. Too crowded to contemplate having a coffee, we spent an hour’s wait at Preston eating butties, and going out for a smoke. During a tedious 15 minutes stood at Lancaster, a hoard of school kids packed the connecting train. Thinning out for the last stretch, we relaxed to enjoy the coastal scenery. I recalled a ramp from the platform at Grange down to the prom but mis-remembered the exit to the town centre and overshot the tunnel. As we turned down a small cul-de-sac, I recognised the cottage from the bin outside. Inside, a balcony and picture window provided breath-taking views of Morecambe Bay. After unpacking and cuppas on the balcony, we went in search of supplies. The local co-op terrible, we settled on pizza and visited Spar for a few items. After one glass of wine, I felt sleepy and switched to coffee. Big mistake. As if coping with a cluttered mind and a strange bed wasn’t bad enough, the late caffeine hit did nothing to aid sleep.
Chief Medical Officers recommended 12-15 year olds were administered a dose of Pfizer in schools with parental consent, to prevent disruption. But 800,000 doses of Astra-Zeneca would expire by the end of September due to reduced take-up. French M&S stores were shutting amid Brexit butty hold-ups while Pret profits went up 15% in a week. Half of office workers wished to stay home Mondays and Fridays, prompting the acronym TW*ATS. Goldman Sachs urged them back fulltime with no social distancing and Morrisons announced no sick pay for unvaccinated staff who had to self-isolate.
Eventually coming round Tuesday, we bought excellent pies from Higginson’s (Phil’s favourite shop) and caught a bus to Cartmel, baulking at the £4 each to go two miles! In the village, we marvelled at wild-growing hops, laughed at craft brewing, chi-chi antiques and the so-called ‘village shop’ that didn’t even sell pop, visited the historic priory and used racecourse facilities. A Guardian family learning to segue provided entertainment as we munched on a mighty cheese pasty at a picnic bench. We started walking back to Grange on the delightfully-named Haggs Lane. Hedgerow blackberries exceedingly sweet, we braved fast cars on the dangerously narrow, twisting lane to pick a pound. On Grange Fell Road, Phil pointed to a graveyard. “That’s where dead people go.” I indicated a golf course opposite: “That’s’ where nearly dead people go!” The walk harder than anticipated, I was glad we’d got the bus up even with the gouging fares. We got cola from Spar and found the tunnel we’d missed Monday evening. The sun emerged from grey clouds as we perched on a prom wall. Despite signs of overheating, Phil wanted to continue to the lido, then suggested dumping bags. We back-tracked to the cottage where we also ditched layers. From excessively detailed info of the renovation, we gleaned the lido wouldn’t be a wreck for long. Nearby plaques depicted landmarks across the bay: the metropolis of Morecambe (the proposed site of Eden Project North), Heysham nuclear power plant and. Blackpool Tower. 31 miles away, Phil claimed you could see it from space.
After Calum Semple warned of ‘a rough winter’ Boris’ unveiled his ‘winter covid plan’. ‘Sticking with the strategy’ meant relying on vaccines: boosters for the over 50’s and carers of Pfizer or ½ dose of Moderna, started Thursday. If other measures were needed, there was a Plan A (jab campaigns, meeting outside, wearing masks, washing hands, using the TIT app and helping other countries get vaccines) and a Plan B (Covid Passes, mandatory masks, working from home). Anti-lockdown MP Steve Baker whinged: “The public health powers are still there, allowing (Javid) to lock us down at the stroke of his pen without prior votes.”
In spite of better sleep, I felt rough on a super-bright Wednesday, rallied over a cuppa to go on a short train ride. No staff in the station office, the ticket machine inexplicably wouldn’t accept our railcard. It was still cheaper than the bus, though! In Arnside, we walked up the beautiful estuary towards a disused station marked on a weird map we found in the cottage. Coming to a hamlet, we decided it must be Sandside and took photos of each other to prove we’d been. On the way back, we couldn’t resist a ‘flash forage’ for more blackberries in spite of bursting for a wee. Village cafés all shut, we went in the pub where they absurdly only accepted the exact money in cash. Even with my caution, I couldn’t fathom how that prevented the spread of covid. From the elevated beer garden, I espied an ideal grassy picnic spot. After eating, Phil threw pie crumbs to a cute jackdaw, which set small gulls into a frenzy. Far from aggressive, they affected endearing begging poses. We explored the sands, carefully avoiding dangerous squidgy bits, marvelled at wispy angel-like clouds floating above Kents Viaduct, went on the tiny pier then needed the loo again. “I’m not having more beer; it’s an endless cycle.” Phil spotted public conveniences – accepting the 40p charge in contactless form only! Railing at yet more gouging, we gave the locals something to talk about by going in together. Back in Grange, we explored the lower end of Main Street, found nothing useful and ended up back at the crap co-op and Spar. Hot, tired and achy, I lay on the bed and closed my eyes when Phil entered the bedroom. Annoyed, I gave up resting and revived later with a fluffy bath, thanks to free radox.
As predicted, The Salesman was sacked in the Cabinet re-shuffle as was Rabid Raab. The contract for the not-yet MHRA approved Valneva vaccine was cancelled. Scottish health minister Humza Yousaf called it ‘a blow’ to Livingstone. Research found 1/3 of arrivals into the UK March-May broke quarantine rules. Fuel and food costs led to a CPI rise of 3.2% August, the most for 10 years, which didn’t escape the notice of Ian Blackford. Putin’s entourage caught covid, putting him in isolation. Only 56% of Greeks immunised, it was hoped mandatory weekly testing of workers would encourage uptake.. The Taliban gave 3-day eviction notices to thousands in order to house their own fighters in Kandahar’s army residential district. The UN said their response to protests was ’increasingly violent’ which didn’t stop them from happening.
A better start Thursday, we strolled to the station and had no trouble using our railcard at the booking office. Riding the train the other way, we got different coastal views and a chuckle from ‘Cack-in-Caramel’ “It sounds like something from a fancy restaurant!” We visited Ulverston market and walked down the smallest canal, alive with plant and animal life. At Canal Foot, we again had to buy drinks to use facilities. Supping IPA overlooking the estuary, I fretted that it took 2 hours to get there and feared we’d miss the last pre-rush hour train. However, we were back in town in 30 minutes. My ankle didn’t’ hurt even though I’d forgotten a bandage that day, but blisters on our soles made us both footsore. Twilight above the bay resplendent with a stripey sunset and silvery waxing moon, I mentioned we hadn’t gone out in the evenings as expected. “What for?” asked Phil, “we wouldn’t get better views anywhere else.”
Vaccines mandatory to work in NHS and care jobs in 12 weeks’ time, today marked the deadline for a first jab. Metro reported staff could self-certify medical exemption. Hospitals in Scotland and Northern Ireland over-stretched not because of covid but staff shortages, the army was drafted in to help.
Life’s A Gas
Friday morning, the phone alarm succeeded in waking me to a yellow sunrise. The colours different every hour of every day, I would miss those expansive views. Things got fraught preparing to leave the cottage when I realised we hadn’t emptied the bins and only just managed it before the agreed check-out time. We trundled our cases through the ornamental gardens, sat on a bench, checked connections and decided to get the next train straight home rather than stop at Carnforth as planned. We took final photos of the bay (because we didn’t already have hundreds!) and surreptitiously sniggered at a trio of boring men with guitars chatting shit before the slightly delayed train arrived. We sat on folding seats in the busy carriage, which became packed at Lancaster. During a shorter wait at Preston, a schizophrenic gibbered at Phil and called me ‘a ginger Mysteron’. Where was his tinfoil hat! We fought our way over busy platforms and stood near the doors on another crowded service. At the next stop, a kind young woman indicated two free adjacent seats. We wedged cases in the footwell and I played games on my phone to block out the hubbub of mask-less fellow passengers. (More details to follow on Cool Places 2 iii).
Back in our valley, we wandered through an eerily quiet park, devoid of kids. After eating lunch with a proper pot of tea, I felt exhausted. Phil advised I rest and he’d go shopping. Unable to sleep, I lay listening for his return, heard nothing and went down to find him slumped on the sofa. He tetchily complained of having to go to the co-op and the convenience store, the former “like Russia, with things moved round to make gaps on shelves look less worse.” Popping out for a few items the next day, I had no trouble finding them, apart from tonic, and saw no sign of re-arranged stock. The Co-op boss later said prices would go up because of HGV, shipping and ‘global commodity’ hikes but that didn’t fully explain the randomness. The rest of the weekend was taken up unpacking, laundering, writing and photo-editing (nowhere near finished) I realised several details from the dream in July had come true, albeit in a jumbled way (see Part 72).
According to ONS, mask use dropped from 98 to 89%. What rot! No way were 89% of passengers wearing masks on trains coming home! And if 90% of us had anti-bodies, why the booster campaign? After Minister Robert Courts said the DfT would reduce covid test costs for travel, the traffic lights changed. Discussed at the Cabinet Covid Sub-committee, Shatts announced it in a series of tweets. From 22nd September, 8 countries would come off the red list and the amber list would be scrapped 4th October. The inoculated didn’t need pre-departure tests and PCR tests 2 days after arrival would be replaced with an LFT later on. Soaring wholesale gas prices forced plants to shut and led to a CO2 shortage. Headlines proclaimed it hit meat, packaging and fizzy drinks (as evinced by no tonic in the co-op for weeks). Then people started to realise it affected everything including apples. In the face of shortages of plastic crap and pigs-in-blanket, The Glove-Puppet was co-opted as Elf Minister ‘to save Christmas’* The Cumbre Vieja volcano on La Palma exploded, destroying 20 homes in Puerto Naus. 6,000 fled as molten lava flowed towards the ocean and acid rain and toxic gasses spewed into the air.
*National Economic Recovery Task Force, aka Committee to Save Christmas
References:
i. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/
ii. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com
iii. My Cool Places 2 blog: https://wordpress.com/posts/hepdenerose2.wordpress.com
The Corvus Diaries 