The Corvus Papers 4: Permacrisis

“(Permacrisis*) sums up quite succinctly how truly awful 2022 has been for so many people” (Alex Beecroft)

Highway To Hell

Woodland 1

Suffering a bad cold at the start of November, I’d forgot the practice nurse call.  She proffered more questions, a mammogram re-invite and directed me to the ‘Menopause Matters’ website before a follow-up call.  Unable to go for covid boosters, I re-booked but still snotty the next week and no more clinics available, was told to ring back when our colds had gone.  Phil shopped and cooked, having a trauma as the gas ring set fire to a baking sheet.  I’d just gone back to bed Thursday morning when the postie loudly knocked on the door, bearing a small parcel (1 of 2 items from Natures Best, the other came the next day – why on earth were they sent separately?)  I made a big effort to do chores, frustrated by not finding a washed tablecloth; buried in a basket.  Brighter following heavy overnight rain, I moved still sopping laundry into the sun, opened the window for fresh air and posted a Cool Places blogi.  After work, Phil rushed to the bathroom with a heavy sigh.  “What’s up?” “I served a customer with covid outside The Store.” “You might have covid.” “Yes, but he really did.”  Shivering, I noted moisture on windows even though I’d wiped them, conceded it was proper cold and put the heating on.  Watching QT, Phil asked: “What’s Patrick Bateman said?” He meant Psycho Chris Philp.  I hadn’t heard him leave Friday morning and dozed to traffic sounds; always noisier after October half-term.  A sizzling frosty start was obscured by more condensation!  Getting exhausted trying to clean, I returned to bed and battled brightness to use the laptop and browse Menopause Matters.  Confused by a variety of HRT, I dawdled to the co-op, enjoying every moment of sunshine and a smile from Scottish ex-neighbour on the way.  I scored the free trolley and saw The Widower.  Having dithered over wearing a face-mask in case of covid, I didn’t and guiltily kept my distance asking after his health, then got more uneasy as an old man in front of me at the till dropped his walking stick and politely declined my offer of help.  Knackered by the exertion, I took a cuppa to bed and edited my Christmas card.  The sun already behind the hill when Phil got back, a spooky ¾ moon rose prettily below a shiny Jupiter.  Saturday, I woke with remnants of an intricate dream in my head inspired by the fantasy film The Wanting Mare.  Slightly better, I retrieved winter clobber, donned a woolly jumper and sat in the chilly living room. 

As Musk realised he’d paid over the odds for loss-making Twitter, he requested $20 per celeb to keep their blue tick.  Stephen King tweeted Musk should be paying him, to which Musk replied, what about $8?  A wave of fake blue tick accounts including his, hilariously ensued.  Putting profit above people, he brutally sacked half his staff via 3.00 a.m. e-mails.  Paid up to February – not bad! – the human rights team the first to go.  A class action was brought.  Later in the month, staff told to sign up for high intensity long hours or leave, quit.  Musk shut the offices for a week. 1m tweeters closed or deactivated their accounts and Mastodon reported 70,000 new users.  Too confusing and unable to join the UK ‘instance’, I gave up doing likewise.  Photoshop failing to save the latest Christmas card edit, I started again, then it crashed, losing 2 days’ work!  Phil offered to help. “No! It’s secret!”  Making dinner, I jumped every time a firework went off outside. Phil tutted: “That’ll happen all night.” “Yes, but it still makes me jump.”  Muted colours in soft sunlight disappeared into the grey Sunday.  Waking early full of gunk, I gave up sleeping, struggled down and started the Christmas card from scratch until Phil returned with Tales From The Store.  Colleagues totally avoiding veggie food, one referred to chickpeas as dirt.  It reminded me of Walking Friend’s violent aversion to coriander when we discussed spicy recipes the other week.  A sore throat overnight extended into my nose and cheeks Monday.  I took echinacea and battled on.

More hospitalisations for flu, covid infections fell. Compass Pathways found psilocybin (aka magic mushrooms lifted depression in 1/3 of severe cases.  According to the downloadable bio ‘out of the blue’, Truss ate a pork pie with her favoured tipple the night before resigning – still no mention of Melton Mowbray’s demise!  The Cock entered the jungle, ostensibly to promote dyslexia awareness.  Called a skiver, embarrassing and disingenuous, incensed constituents weren’t mollified by a hotline to their MP.  The whip withdrawn, Bereaved Families’ Lobby Akinnola said the former health sec should focus on the covid inquiry, not ‘a shameless attempt to revamp his image.’  He ambled in to beg forgiveness of gaping contestants and predictably be first in line for bushtucker trials.  Those poor animals!  On Laura K., Ed Millipede said we hadn’t done enough since the last COP, Diane Johnson said the immigration system was a mess and Oliver Dowdy defended Swellen and agreed The Salesman’s expletive-laden texts to Wendy Morton were unacceptable, but excused them for being sent at a ‘difficult time’.  Jerk Berry informed Rishi about the texts the day before he made Gavin ‘Minister without Portfolio’.  Standards obviously only applying in good times, Morton referred him to the Independent Complaints & Grievance Scheme.  A 10 year old hack told Andrew Neil he was brought in as a fixer as he was good at ‘behind the scenes dark arts stuff’.  Transport minister Dick Holden evaded questions on scrapping Northern Poorhouse Rail, saying they had to cut their cloth.  As ‘furious as everyone else’ about illegal immigration, he parroted lame excuses for 12 years’ failure.

John Swinney made massive Scottish budget cuts and Morrisons were shutting 132 McColls stores.  Slow global growth led to tech job losses.  With competition from TikTok, Apple privacy changes and loss of investor confidence concerning decade-long Metaverse plans, Meta would lay off 13% of staff with the recruitment team hardest hit.  E-mails told us we could no longer revert to ‘classic’ Facebook and MS would charge for attachment storage – time to purge that in-box!  Octopus energy already paying customers to cut peak-time gas use, National Grid started a trial for smart meter customers.  BP profits £7bn July-Aug, Just Stop Oil threw orange paint at the Home Office, M15, BOE, and News Corp HQ: the ‘4 pillars that support and maintain the power of a fossil fuel economy – government, security, finance and media’.  Trussed-Up having ruined the UK’s reputation and taking longer to regain it, the worst recession for a century was likely to last into 2023.  BOE hiked interest to 3%, the most since 1987.  Former gov Mark Carney said sterling’s fall and a shrinking economy after Brexit added to ‘inflationary pressure’.  Rees-Moggy railed: “To blame…Brexit Is bizarre and only an ultra Remainiac would make such a bogus argument.”  No, Moggy, you’re the maniac!  Rishi promised a new budget would reveal him as Santa, not scrooge. Yeah, for the rich!  On QT, Lord Stuart Rose thought it too late to avoid a long recession.  Predicting the new budget would dish out pain, economist Zanny Minton-Bedoes called discounting tax rises and scrapping of the triple-lock mad; everything should be on the table.  60% of the public with a £60 monthly deficit, and 20% with no savings or resilience after 12 years of tory rule, Peter Kyle said it’d be long and painful.  The Psycho prated about the wealthiest 1% paying 28% of all tax, thresholds and the minimum wage going up.  The audience threw out questions on hungry kids, windfall taxes and the futility of raising interest so we wouldn’t buy stuff that we had no money for anyway.  55% of consumers using credit for Christmas tat, 20% for the first time, 2/5 taking out loans to pay off HP seemed like a bad idea!  More talks agreed, rail strikes due early November were called off too late for normal service to resume Saturday or even the next week.  With a new offer, the Hull Stagecoach strike was suspended.  Scrapping Boris’ daft royal yacht project, Ben Wally said they’d build the MROSS defence ship instead.

Highway To Hell

In his first interview since resigning, The Bumbler told Sky Vlad would be mad to use nuclear weapons.  Attending COP27, Rishi decided to go, allegedly because they’d made good progress on their budget.  Not going to Egypt, Kingy held an audience at Buck House.  Storm Claudio brought yellow wind and rain from France and flooding round London.

As South East commuters also contended with protestors on M25 gantries, Rishi and Boris arrived in sunny Sharm, the latter with a bevy of teenage girls – did they write his policy?  Guterres warned conference action on the ‘defining issue of our times’ was woeful, the clock was ticking and we were on “the last stages of the highway to climate hell, with our foot still on the accelerator.”  Activists in Rome showered Van Gogh’s The Sower with pea soup.

Migrants bussed out of Manston described inhuman conditions as some were left at Victoria Coach Station coatless and shod in flip-flops.  A kid threw a letter over the fence addressed to journalists. Children’s commissioner Rachel de Souza asked Swellen how many unaccompanied children were in the camp and how were they treated?  A ‘deeply concerned’ Diane Johnson (home affairs cttee chair) and 14 council heads wrote to Swellen complaining of its use as an ‘easy fix for a national strategic issue’.  Tensions mounting, protestors brandished placards reading ‘Suella’s shame’ and a right-wing backlash threatened.  Albanian MP Edi Rama tweeted it was ‘easy rhetoric’ blaming them and on Newsnight, accused the UK of scapegoating, while Rachel Maclean cited ‘unintended consequences’ of the Modern Slavery Act for more boat crossings – err, most victims were British!  Ignoring a power outage at Harmondsworth immigrant removal centre where detainees with ‘various weaponry’ ‘rioting’ in the courtyard, met riot police, the BBC alleged Kurdish criminal gangs controlled French camps and paid Albanians to channel-cross to work in the ‘drugs trade’.  UK pay 10 times higher, they left their home towns empty.  What clap-trap – drug dealers weren’t on regular wages!  Minister Graham Stuart admitted Swellen used ‘unfortunate language’.  Spotting his nephew on Metro’s front cover, Albanian Arben Halili, travelled from Oxford, tried to get into Manston and blocked a coach leaving the site.  Landing in a chinook Thursday, Swellen was booed and journos were banned.  Legal action was brought by Detention Action and a woman ‘from outside Europe’ allegedly left at Manston in ‘egregiously defective conditions’ for 3 weeks until allowed to stay with family in the UK.

At PMQs, Rishi was asked what Swellen had to do to resign and who broke the asylum system?  Always shifting blame, it could only be the tories after 12 years’ power.  Rishi told Keir they were getting a grip but he’d voted against the bill and couldn’t attack a plan and not have one himself.  Keir leered, let’s look at that plan: Manston nor Rwanda were working.  He’d prosecuted people-traffickers, they couldn’t even process migrants.  It was time to scrap gimmicks, get a proper home sec, and get a grip.  Rishi wittered about Keir supporting national security risk Corbyn.  Blackford harped on about the triple-lock and political choices hitting the poorest hardest – why not take the easy decisions, raise windfall taxes, scrap non-doms, and help the vulnerable?  Rishi insisted they supported oil companies to invest.  Furious at money spent on housing illegals, a backbencher wondered when it’d be sorted out.  Rishi parroted ‘we will defend our borders’.  Alba asked if Scotland was a territorial British colony; the argument rumbled on all month.

After Baroness Casey called her report ‘a line in the sand’ and Mark Rowley said it was clear hundreds of Met officers should be sacked, HMICFRS** published findings of sexism and misogyny in several police forces.  Inadequate vetting made it too easy for the wrong people to join.  Rowley later complained he couldn’t get rid of cops not trusted to speak to the public.  Fireworks were thrown at police vans in Leeds and a 17 year old Halifax lad being chased by cops, crashed into a greenhouse and died.  Rallying for early elections, ex Pakistan PM Imran Khan was shot in the leg.  An alleged assassination attempt, further demos followed.

In a major shake-up, The Arts Council shifted £50m from London to the provinces.  ENO funding cut, a restructuring grant helped them relocate to Manchester and Blackpool illuminations got money for the first time – those Red Indians did need replacing!  As non-Americans googled it to do a wordle, Cambridge dictionary named ‘homer’ word of the year.  ‘Permacrisis’ topped Collins’ list which also included ‘sportswashing’, ‘warm bank’, ‘partygate’, ‘vibe shift’, ‘lawfare’, ‘quiet quitting’, ‘Carolean’ and ‘splooting’.

Nasty Business

The Grand

Woken prematurely by Phil Tuesday 8th, I grumbled, dozed, exercised, cleaned and began an Ocado order when the nurse rang an hour early.  I griped of complex info on Menopause Matters, and more generally, of having to do it all yourself these days.  After clarifying some points. we agreed on low-dose HRT patches, ready to collect next week.  Phil hoped I didn’t go loopy like Carole Gammone.  “It’s meant to improve your mood; I bet she’s on a high dosage from a dodgy source.”  Early Wednesday, I realised the bathroom light was left on overnight, switched it off, then Phil fumbled to the loo, turning it back on.  Forecasters repeated it was mild for the time of year but omitted to mention rain.  Together with a heavy head and tummy ache, it mitigated against an outing.  Phil popped to the shop just in time for a sharp shower.  Thursday even wetter, I felt cold.  Exhausted from vacuuming when Ocado came, I wryly observed I’d fallen into the trap of buying tiny packs again (I thought the juice trio was cheap!)  I shelved a trip to the market and booked a BG service – amazingly lots of slots available, for next Monday.  Receiving a letter from the dole saying I qualified for an extra warm homes grant and still diddled out of the full energy rebate, I went round in circles trying to fathom the new Evolve site.  Newsnight had featured Evolv’s crap AI weapons detection – was it the same thing?  Phil had a funny do with his right eye at work; annoying just as his left one improved. “Do you need an ambulance?” “No; I’ll ring doctors if it gets worse.” “It already is.” “I mean if there are signs of a detached retina.”  The Store had finally recruited an assistant manager, meaning a 3-day week – in the short-term.  December rosters unset, he was unsure of Christmas shifts, pondered taking leave, but there was no need.  Untangling last month’s Westminster shit-show for the journal, I got head fug and turned the laptop off for a 3rd update in 2 days.  Struggling to sleep, I enjoyed hooting owls; much nicer than squawking geese Friday morning.  Going to the co-op, a cat scuttling in the undergrowth on the steps startled me.  I revelled in mild, fresh air scented by late-blooming Japanese Jasmine until assailed by traffic fumes on the main road.  Several items missing from shelves, I asked My Mate could I pay at the kiosk.  He advised using the conveyors but asked if I wanted baccy. “Just filters.” “I’m disappointed.” “I got baccy already and meant to buy filters on the market, but the weather was too horrid and I wasn’t up to it after a bad cold. I’ve been nowhere but here for 2 weeks – so depressing!”  He sympathised and hoped I’d soon be better.  Phil got home to relate previous occupations of store co-workers, including an ex-binman who weirdly started early Thursdays for unpaid work, 2 pub landlords and a video shop owner.  “It’s a shit business! Any failed artists?” “I’m not failed.” “It’s a joke! After all, you did sell a print.”

Lenny Henry promoted his new kid’s book on BBC Breakfast Saturday.  Asked what advice he’d give aspiring authors, he said if there’s an unwritten book, write it, send it to your favourite publisher, you’re never too old and keep going.  I should get back to my novel!  Desperate for a walk, we headed through the busy town and through woodlands, buying eggs from a farm in-between.  An official egg shortage explained a dearth of them in the shops.  Allegedly due to bird flu, supermarkets refused to pay more so farmers chucked them away.  I said wasting food in straitened times should be a crime.  “What are they meant to do?” “Give them to food banks, take them to market…“ “Some do, hence the honesty box.”i.  As Lidl and Asda rationed eggs, BRC said there were plenty.  Phil disturbed my recovery with news of a historic Bradford pub office conversion and Nik Turner dying. “Shit! No more Space Ritual! But I bet the other half of Hawkwind are cheering ‘we got all the money’!”  The world hidden behind a nasty fog and condensation combo Sunday, I wiped the dripping windows and researched DIY dehumidifiers. “What about Do Not Eat?” “You’d need tons of it.”  Groggy and achy, I amended the Christmas card while Phil went to work.  Monday, the fog didn’t lift.  Conscious of the BG service, I sprung out of bed and chivvied Phil to help clear passageways.  New to BG, the engineer arrived with a mentoring colleague.  After 1½ hours poking, they said it did well for an old boiler, advised getting a new carbon monoxide detector and pointlessly adjusting an external pipe – any overflow would go straight down the drain.  Getting colder, I changed the boiler settings but having no heat or hot water, thought I’d messed it up.  Nope: the stupid men had turned the main switch off!

Covid infections rose in Australia.  800 on the Majestic Princess tested positive.  Cases mild or asymptomatic, the cruise ship docked in Sydney while isolated passengers made private travel arrangements.

Tuesday, it emerged The Salesman told a civil servant to ‘slit your throat’.  As a Downing Street informal inquiry into the nasty business began, he was gone by evening.  Already sacked twice from ministerial posts, this time he jumped before pushed.  Laying into Rishi’s ‘poor judgement and weak leadership’, Rayner said it was clear he was ‘strapped by the grubby backroom deals he made to dodge a vote’.  Wednesday, Gill Keegan said he had great judgement.  At PMQs, Keir asked how bullying victims would feel about the PM’s ‘great sadness’ at losing The Salesman?  Rishi insisted he didn’t know specifics and Gavin was right to go.  Keir persisted; Rishi normalised bullying by giving Gavin a job and he wouldn’t have got away with it if a weak boss hadn’t handed him power.  Did he regret the appointment?  Rishi replied ’of course’ he regretted appointing someone who resigned ‘in these circumstances’, adding integrity characterised his government, hence a rigorous process, but also important to deliver for the whole country, he listed his daft priorities.  Keir mocked, he couldn’t stand up to a run-of-the mill bully, so he couldn’t stand up to anyone, like Shell, who paid no windfall tax.  Rishi itemised Keir’s nay votes, to which Keir said he was against all chaos-creators including those on government benches.  On QT, Caroline Green said nurses struck for a better NHS, thus for us all.  Steph Flanders added, still experiencing the covid emergency, we must understand their long-term needs.  Questioned on the Cock’s bug-eating antics, Emily Thornberry said complacency led tories to think they deserved to rule.  Although not self-serving like them and entering public life to make the world a better place, all MPs were tarred with the same brush.  Held to account by Ant & Dec instead of the public, evading the covid inquiry and no ethics adviser, Mark Harper promised one soon but admitted they should consider how their conduct looked.  Asked if COP was realistic when big emitters weren’t there (i.e., India and China; while gas companies lobbied to be considered green!) Caroline said it was the only game in town and Steph didn’t want to give into fatalism.

Concluding the Grenfell inquiry, KCs highlighted startling government ignorance, incompetence and disregard for social housing tenants.  Arconic, Studio E., Exova, Centrex, Kingspan, Kensington Council (failing to inspect door closers), the Levelling Up sec and London mayor making up a rogues gallery, Richard Millett attacked the merry-go-round of buck-passing.  Uncleverly called the Aussie trade deal rubbish.  Truss-Up obviously the latest scapegoat, he had a point – where were our tim-tams?  Also blaming Truss, Kwasi Modo told Talk Radio he warned her she moved at breakneck speed.  So much for being in ‘lockstep’!  Amazon planned to sack 10,000, including Alexa staff  and Tim Martin was shutting 7 more Wetherspoons.  Phil and Julie Fox vowed to visit doomed pubs to add to the 295 they’d already patronised including their Halifax local, The Percy Shaw.  Fellow Brexiteer Next boss Simon Wolfson said it wasn’t the Brexit he wanted.  Tough shit, mister! (see Brexit Islandii).  Doing well under lockdown, Made.com struggled with supply issues and went bust.  Next bought the brand but not stock leaving customers with unfulfilled orders and no refunds.  Next also later teamed up with founder Tom Joules to rescue the colourful clothes brand.

Calling Blighty

Evil energy companies remotely switched 60,000 to pre-payment without notice.  Unaware customers failing to top-up could be disconnection by default – another reason not to have a smart meter! 

1.3m using food banks, The Trussell Trust launched their first emergency appeal.  A ‘sticking plaster’, they urged government to budget for long-term measures.  GDP down 0.2% July-Sept., The C**t harped on about global factors and admitted there’d be a slump, which could be short and shallow if interest stayed low.  Refusing to be drawn by Laura K. on its contents, he promised us all pain with his ‘horrible decisions’.  Swerving questions on Brexit, an FT economist called it the elephant in the room.  Simon Sharma cited rotting cabbages and NHS staff shortages.  As they segued into the Remembrance Sunday lark, a Lord Army Major said ceremonies took place in towns and cities around the globe.  Port Stanley was hardly an empire!  Steve Hawley unearthed ‘Calling Blighty’.  The wartime messages from soldiers to families back home, were screened to descendants in Penis Town’s quaint cinema.  Doc film ‘A Bunch of Amateurs’ premiered at Pictureville to rave reviews.  Why’d we not heard of Bradford Movie Makers, established 1932, when we lived in The City?

The UK-wide RCN ballot closed.  The vote not unanimous, nurses in half of English trusts, all in Scotland and NI and all but 7 in Wales, would strike December, not affecting emergency services.  Laughingly preparing ‘contingencies’, Steve Barclay said his door was always open for talks.  That was the first they’d heard!  Gill Keegan helpfully claimed nurses only used foodbanks if they had a broken relationship or boiler.  100,000 PCS Civil servants voting to strike, according to the TUC, 1.5m public sector workers considered doing likewise.  M25 protests into a third day, a lorry crashing into a rolling roadblock hurt a cop.  On the fourth day, London commuters also contended with no tubes and bus queues.  TFL advised travel outside peak times, incredibly starting at 5.45 a.m. (was that all the Deliveroo?) and issued a walking tube map, saying stations were only 10 mins apart; 2 mins in central London, more like.  Just Stop Oil ended the protest Friday.  Amidst reports of buffet shortages, Uncle Joe told COP27 delegates the “science is devastatingly clear – we have to make progress by the end of this decade.”  They agreed a deal to fund climate change damage but not to cut emissions or fossils fuels.  Martin Kaiser, Greenpeace Germany, called it a ‘sticking plaster on a huge, gaping wound’.  Canberra activists threw blue paint at ‘symbol of capitalism‘, Warhol’s Campbell’s soup cans.  Talk about missing the point!  Rishi went to Bali for the G20.  Fearing assassination for weakness, Vlad sent Sergei Lavrov.  Vlod pointedly addressed the G19, China criticised the weaponization of food and fuel, and the Cambodian leader tested positive for covid.  Meanwhile, Top CIA man Bill Burns met his Russian counterpart Sergei Naryshkin in Ankara, to discuss Yanks held in detention and convey ‘a message on the consequences of the use of nuclear weapons’.

Swellen gave France £8m extra a year for more beach patrols and UK immigration officers in their control rooms.  Nitwit Elphicke carped it fell short of what was needed.  Admitting it wouldn’t solve the crisis of 40,000 channel crossings, Swellen said it was part of a multi-dimensional approach.  Albanian migrants held a demo Sunday, demanding the nasty bitch resign.  After Uncleverly told LGBTQ fans to respect Qatari laws at the World Cup, as a ‘massive gay’, Luke Pollard urged he apologise.  An official ambassador then said homosexuality damaged the mind.  Reports of safehouses being set up, disgraced ex-FIFA boss Sepp Blatter was more concerned Qatar was too tiny to host the competition than human rights or migrant construction worker deaths.  Russian troops withdrew from Kherson, destroying comms on the way out of the only regional capital they’d captured during the war.  Republicans not faring as expected in US midterms, The Trump said if they did well, it was down to him but if not, it was everyone else’s fault and blamed Melania for advising him to back a loser.  This didn’t deter a ‘big announcement’ that he’d re-run for president.

Kingy and Camilla’s cut-price coronation would take place 6th May 2023, with a third May bank holiday Monday 8th.  On a 2-day Yorkshire tour, they visited Bradford, Leeds, Doncaster and York, where a man shouted this country was built on slavery and chucked eggs at them.  On his 74th birthday, Kingy leant on an oak tree for dumb selfies.  Nobody knew if he’d continue the tradition of an official summer birthday.  Tuesday, 3 British actors (Tom Owen, Bill Treacher and Leslie Philips) died, as did swingometer inventor David Butler.  Paying tribute, Michael Crick said: “For decades (he) was the foremost psephologist in Britain and around the world.”  Premier Inn was voted best chain hotel and tatty with a ‘rough and ready feel’,  Britannia the worst.  Simon Calder rightly argued you could stay in ace places like Scarborough’s Grand.

Unhinged

Woodland 2

The bedroom telly came on at 6 a.m. Tuesday 15th.  Jolted awake by the Milkshake theme, I could never find the auto-alarm feature to switch it off but tuned to BBC, it was less raucous when it happened again the next week.  Phil learnt on google his hot flush could be down to lifestyle changes. “Doing a work! Your body’s in overdrive trying to make testosterone. Maybe you need HRT too. I’ll ask when I get mine.”  I forgot, but bought a few essentials in the chemist, later realising I’d got conditioner instead of shampoo again and spotted hair clippers on an-aisle end.  Later in the week, Phil successfully exchanged the hair gunk and bought clippers with myriad attachments.  I went home to tut at mill redevelopers messing about on a trial trike – were they unhinged? – and read the HRT leaflet to fret over side-effects.  Phil subsequently persuaded me to try it.  He agreed opening a window to dispel moisture in Wednesday sunshine was a good idea until the temperature dropped.  Cleaning the landing, the tripod stand fell apart.  Swearing loudly, I left it in bits and asked Phil if he’d  heard me. “Yes; what was it?” “Guess. I think there’s a screw missing.” “I think a screw is missing.” “I just said that!”  We discussed a cut-price Christmas and going to Lidl for German treats. “And lobsters,” he offered. “I’m not buying them. Too much faff and we don’t know your shifts. I’m cooking nowt that takes half a day to prepare.”

Due to intimidation and throwing tomatoes at them, civil servants avoided working with Rabid Raab in his previous cabinet roles.  Facing two formal bullying complaints, he wrote to Rishi requesting an independent inquiry, then faced Rayner.  PMQs covered by a new ‘talking politics’ segment on channel 5, we listened to host Storm trying to be serious and an unhinged Carole Gammone saying such claims were normal in a working environment (in her nasty world!) then tuned to BBC for actual debate.  Clive Betts asked if the PM (hobnobbing in Bali) should allow Raab to serve to which he parroted he’d comply fully.  Rayner not on top form, asked a question worthy of a toady then followed up with: the G20 supposedly addressing global economics, why did the government drag its feet on taxing massive profits?  He spouted the usual codswallop on lower tax gaps and stricter non-dom regs.  She retorted the truth was, working people paid the price for tory choices.  Where was the UK in the list of the 38 growth countries?  As Raab kept schtum, she told him: 38th; thanks to wrong people making wrong choices.  No ethics, no integrity and no mandate, when would a new ethics adviser drain the swamp?  Raab refuted all bullying claims including flying tomatoes and said the ’mud-slinging’ was because labour didn’t have a plan.  Rees-Moggy chimed in that labour’s bullying record was second to none.  On Daily Politics, Bridget Philipson complained Raab ignored labour’s plans  for growth and to help with inflation and suppressed wages.

A rogue missile hit Poland, killing 2.  Vlod blamed Vlad.  In urgent G20 talks, Biden gave Duda’s investigation his ‘full support’ but rather than coming from Russia, was likely shot down by a Soviet-era S300; part of Ukrainian air defences.  No indication it was deliberate, paying for a top-up at the co-op kiosk, I overheard a colleague telling someone that was how WW2 started  “Let’s not get carried away; it was an accident.” I told My Mate. “On a lighter note, have a good day.” “See you in the bomb shelter.” “Eff off! Pardon my French.”  Head fuggy writing, I picked up the guitar for the first time in months.  Barely able to remember simple chords, they gradually came back to me.  Phil returned with Pueblo baccy – worthy, organic, made by native Americans, bought by woke hippies, and now, him.

Still raining after overnight rain Thursday, I guessed a swollen river would cause consternation.  As did The C**t’s budget.  Glossing over council tax hikes, he focussed on frozen income tax thresholds costing earners more over time, less help with energy bills from April, windfall tax rising to 35% and extended to 2028, slower public spending rises but more for health, social care and education for the next 2 years (excluding early years, 6th form and HE), a 10.1% rise in benefits rise and the national living wage to £12.42 from April, and some guff on wind turbines and broadband.  Reeves whinged in the ‘Bobby Ewing strategy’ of denying past chaos, ‘old cast members returned as if nothing had happened and it was time the series was cancelled’.  Sturgeon griped that austerity had returned.  Energy help well short of what was needed, the End Fuel Poverty Coalition predicted 7m still in fuel poverty would be joined by an extra 1.6m.  Simon Francis said: “we are already seeing the horrific impact of living in cold damp homes and children…Without the financial support…this winter…the NHS will be overwhelmed and millions will suffer.”  Interviewed by Chris Mason, The C**t denied ducking difficult decisions until after the next election.  He faced them in a ‘balanced way’, given an upcoming 2 years of recession, but there was a plan and there was hope to ‘get us back to normality’.  He’d obviously listened to the BOE who said we’d start ‘getting back to normal’ after the winter gas crisis.  Phil laughed at the persistent misguided belief: “Everyone, the IMF etc., say things will never return to normal.”  Friday, I discovered a strike by Jacob’s workers.  Phil reckoned loads of industrial action wasn’t reported by ‘Pravda’ (aka the BBC).  Hunting for Christmas treats in the co-op, random stock occupied the diminished cracker shelf.  Amid a tinned peach shortage (nowt to do with Brexit!) I regretted eating one last month, and opted for retro fruit cocktail.  Phil rang at the end of his shift.  Dank as the sun dipped behind the hill, I eschewed the pub.  His latest ‘how shops work’ tutorial entailed the air con system clarting shelves in dust. “You can tell as soon as you walk in if it’s a decent shop or not. “Like the awful Sainsbury’s in the next village?” “Yep. And their new co-op will be Asda soon as they sold them with the forecourts.”  Store people from Preston brought new snacks.  He bought cheese savouries. “What else did they bring?” “Loads of sweets and salt n vinegar savouries. I pulled a face: “Ooh no!” “You sound like a granny.” “I am 60 you know!” “Join the gammon grannies, saying everything’s disgusting!” “If I do get like that, shoot me.” “I will!” A slight hangover Saturday, I slept in shockingly late (like the old days), posted a blog and considered the Omaze house prize draw.  Too pricey, I decided Marbella was full of gangsters anyway and edited the Christmas card while Phil cut his hair.  Struggling to settle with a whirring mind at bedtime, I finally dropped off to be roused by him coughing at 3.45.  Exhausted and tearful, I blocked out bright light and eventually got a few hours.  Despite insomnia and low mood, I gave up lying-in Sunday and found a tumbler stained yellow from Phil drinking turmeric. I complained it hadn’t stopped his cough.  About to go for a wander, he was asked to do an extra shift.  I whinged of short notice but he countered it was more money with no lifting, and the weather wasn’t great.  To be fair, it rained soon after.  I went for knobbly market veg and browsed charity shops, getting myself a handbag and him chinos for work (perfect except unhemmed, they needed altering) then nipped in the co-op to wait at the till as a woman filled her bag with luxury items like avocado and prawns.  I finished the Christmas card before Phil got home.  Entering and exiting the living room several times, he stood peering at the wall calendar.  The shifts I’d scribbled on not tallying with the office chart, he decided he was on a late Monday and looked forward to a lie-in.  Aware of movement at 7.00 a.m., I rose to find a note saying he was on an early after all.  Putting my first HRT patch on, I immediately had a hot flush.  Probably not weird, I got on with writing and chores.  Shivering all day even in extra layers, when Phil got in, I battened down the hatches and put the heating on.  Well, it was 4 degrees out.  Work on the journal was interrupted by Tales from The Store.  The new assistant manager blobbed twice, then left.  Giving some hogwash about the work causing anxiety, they suspected she had 2 jobs.  Possibly unhinged, I wondered if they checked references.  Phil said hardly anyone did now.  “How Stupid!” “Penny wise, pound foolish, that’s today’s capitalists.” “Tell your boss I’ve got a background in personnel and am available for a reasonable consultancy fee!” Back to 4-day weeks, Phil got crumpets with jam as a sop.  He asked was I watching the World Cup. “I’m boycotting it.” “I’m not boycotting England games.” “They gave into the armband lark, and those rich pundits complaining of human rights abuses, still taking millions to be there. It’s awful!” “How do you know all that if you’re not watching it?” “From the news. I’m keeping up with the antics. I might change my mind if England reach the final.”  I actually caved in before then, which was just as well.

Protesting David Beckham’s £10m ambassador deal, Joe Lycett shredded £10,000 in fake notes.  2 days before Kick-off, Qatar banned venue alcohol sales.  Bud tweeted, ‘this is awkward’.  At the last minute, FIFA forbid captains to wear ‘one love’ armbands, threatening yellow cards and fines.  Home nation fans left at half-time during the first match but official attendance figures exceeded stadium capacity.  In support of protestors, Iranian players refused to sing their national anthem.  England beat them 6-2, the highest score ever for an opening game.  Thousands were locked out due to a FIFA app malfunction.  Rainbow bucket hats were taken off Welsh fans and a reporter clad in a rainbow tee was denied entry.  FIFA said confiscation of clothing would end Thursday.

Get Out!

New drug Teplizumab could delay the onset of type 1 diabetes for 3 years and lead to better treatments.  As a banner flew over the jungle reading: ‘Covid bereaved say get out of here’, crocodile tears had the desired effect and people stopped voting for The Cock to do bushtucker trials.  The QT audience wondered if we’d survive 2 years’ austerity.  Thicky Atkins disingenuously claimed the effects of Trussonomics had flushed through the system, according to the OBR.

Queried on when they’d re-join the single market and tax the likes of Amazon who’d made a mint during covid, Thicky denied Brexit was to blame, said we should look forward and all countries had the same pressures.  Ian Blackford reckoned taxing big companies could raise £11 bn; it was a political choice to make the poor pay.  At the CBI conference in Brum, Tony Danker wanted ‘part 2’ of the budget statement, to encourage investment in UK and spark growth.  Rishi said ‘wait and see’.  He also quashed rumours of a ‘Swiss style’ EU deal, saying Brexit was delivering for the country.  His unhinged speech slayed me: “I voted for Brexit, I believe in Brexit…already delivering enormous benefits and opportunities for the country – migration being an immediate one…proper control of our borders…(we can)…have a conversation with the country about the type of migration that we want and need…We weren’t able to do that inside the European Union…” (Yep, that’s going well!) “When it comes to trade…we can open up our country to the world’s fastest-growing markets…I’ve just got back from the G20…talking about signing CPTPP…(becoming) part of that trading bloc, that’s a fantastic opportunity…” (See ‘Brexit island’ii).  Guardianistas incensed that Keir wouldn’t reverse Brexit either, the next day, he told business leaders the UK must end dependency on cheap immigrant labour and train our own.

Average pay rises of 5.7% (6.6% for the private sector and 2.2% for the public), didn’t keep pace with the highest inflation for 40 years.  11.1% in October, 11.9% for those on low incomes and 16.2% for food, we couldn’t avoid staples like milk and eggs but we could shun extortionate Heinz ketchup.  Hull suffered higher inflation and excess deaths – due to draughtier homes, lower wages, or lower prices to start with?  In first-ever talks with the RCN, The health sec swerved pay talk in favour of body-cams and care funding.  Pat Cullen retorted: “By refusing my requests for negotiations, Steve Barclay is directly responsible for the strike action this month…Nursing staff don’t want to be outside their hospitals, they want to be inside – feeling respected and able to provide safe care to patients.”  Heathrow baggage handlers struck and PO workers announced 10 days’ further action Nov-Dec, including Black Friday and Christmas Eve.  Half-year losses £219m, Royal Mail asked government if they could stop Saturday letter deliveries, as the public were indifferent (we couldn’t afford the stamps!) and concentrate on packages; maybe planning to capitalise on Evri (formerly Hermes), again voted worst parcel service.  A coroner concluded toddler Awaab Ishaq died from an untreated severe respiratory condition caused by prolonged exposure to mould in his home.  The family accused Rochdale Boroughwide Housing of racism.  CE Gareth Swarbrick resigned, Gove withdrew funding (how did that help?) and a week later, said sorry to tenants still living with fungi.  Greenpeace projected a video highlighting fuel poverty onto Rishi’s North Yorks Georgian mansion.  Heavy rain brought mayhem to southern villages and roads, Aberdeenshire flooding swept someone into the River Don and Russian shelling left half of Kyiv without power.  Finding evidence of explosives near Nord Stream 1 & 2, Swedish prosecutors called September’s leaks ‘gross sabotage’.  A major gas supplier to the UK and EU, Norway stepped up surveillance.  A 5.6 shallow earthquake along Indonesia’s ring of fire felled houses, blocked roads and killed at least 162.  Hundreds of injured were treated amid aftershocks in Java.  Artemis 1 finally took off to take a moonikin to the moon.  Both Brian Cox’s on BBC breakfast, the actor promoted his new show on how the other half lived and the physicist touted his new book.  Building on Stephen Hawking’s work, it was an idiot’s guide to black holes – The universe for dummies!

Broken Britain

Broken Britain

Tuesday lunchtime, I proffered Phil a spare finger roll.  Mishearing me, he asked was it a fancy foreign thing like Remainers bought in The Store? “Yes, fingerorle authentico!”  Falling asleep faster at night, I actually dropped off for 5 mins during a siesta – was it the hormones?  As we waited at the sunny bus stop Wednesday, the geese squawked and waddled off the church lawn in unison.  Phil laughed at their peculiar communication and related an anecdote of one flying down to the river and unable to fly back up, getting stuck.  A quick ride to the next town, all-day brekkies at the market café ate into the time as they were short-staffed and Phil ordered the biggest, which took ages to cook.  Disappointingly no thermal socks in Age UK, Phil found a book and DVD.  Paying for them to hide for yule, I spotted a tin of smelly miniatures for myself.  The discount store and the German supermarket provided the best seasonal goody mission for 3 years.  Pleased with our haul, we headed for the bus, letting a polite schoolboy on first.  The fast journey back juddery, we thought a spring was broke or, as Phil sang: “the wheels on the bus are  not  round!”

Brexit putting investors off, OECD forecast the UK as the worst-performing country in the G20 2023 and possibly 2024.  Rishi told cabinet we faced ‘a challenging winter’ of strikes, high costs and NHS backlogs.  Labour said he took ‘people for fools’ blaming winter and not a ‘decade of tory mismanagement’ for the challenges.  Watching PMQs on iPlayer, Keir failed to mention this, declared ‘shame on FIFA’ and asked why we had the lowest growth? Rishi insisted it was the highest since 2010 and the fastest this year, and selected 3 ‘important points’ from the OECD report: growth, international challenges, and support for his fiscal plan, then bragged about putting more into the NHS.  An unconvinced Keir railed total denial wouldn’t wash and due to 12 years’ inaction, weeks of chaos and Rishi’s changes, ordinary people had £1400 tax hikes.  Ducking queries on how much super- wealthy non-doms were expected to pay, Rishi said labour had years to sort it out, and while they peddled fairy tales and gesture politics, tories protected pensioners.  As the Guardian alleged Rishi registered with a private GP, Keir dug in; he’d scrap non-doms to fund doctors so they wouldn’t have to go private.  Rishi didn’t gainsay the claim until January 2023.  The Supreme Court ruling Scotland couldn’t hold an indy ref without Westminster consent, Ian Blackford maintained with a mandate to deliver a referendum, democracy couldn’t be denied and urged Rishi be honest and admit the idea of the UK union as voluntary, was dead and buried.  Now the time to stick together, Rishi respected the court’s decision.  Blackford countered, he couldn’t claim to respect the rule of law and deny democracy.  Quite! Was Scotland a colony?  Would they go to the European court?  Olivia Blake asked why an investigation into lives lost in The Channel took so long, adding it wouldn’t have happened if there were safe, legal routes.  Rishi inanely said every life lost was a tragedy which was why Swellen was tackling illegal migration (splutter!)

Woken early Thursday by machinery and Phil, I changed the HRT patch, got a hot flush, burps and nausea.  After ridding windows of ice-like moisture, I tried expunging mould caused by bathroom condensation with mixed results.  Shaking rugs out, a soft toy flew out the window.  Luckily, it was retrievable from behind the shed-house.  On QT, Andy Bunman advocated local control of skills and a personal approach to getting the inactive back to work.  Saying work must pay, Ben Habib (aka Asian Farage) blamed dependency culture and defended Truss as having the right idea on growth but was ‘defenestrated’ by The Treasury and BOE.  Citing the Avanti debacle, Bunman said performance had fallen off a cliff and agreed with Rapper Darren McGarvey who likened denouncing the RMT for destroying Christmas to spin on Scargill – it was a tory tactic to always blame workers.  The Scottish government allegedly considering making the rich to pay for NHS treatment, Bunman sought properly integrated health & social care and workforce plans to stop agency use and pay staff more.  Transport minister Richard Holden backed Rishi going private as he paid tax and could opt back into the NHS – that wasn’t the point!  Despite the chair of ACOBA Lord Pickles finding The Cock’s jungle jaunt broke regs (but disciplinary action ‘disproportionate’), they all thought his normality bid had won the public over – Bunman said The Cock wasn’t a bad guy but tories always put themselves first.

Going to the co-op Friday, I swapped updates on a neighbour’s community carers’ job with Phil’s work, over-sharing shop gossip.  Using a discount coupon from a leaflet posted through the door, I panicked at the till as a woman breathed down my neck.  After extensive research, Phil found the ideal freezer.  The search not working on my browser, he sent me a link, then it wouldn’t log me in.  Eventually buying the thing, my card was subsequently declined.  Satan’s Bank had changed the card so the expiry date was the same but the number different.  The microwave clock at zero revealing a power cut, Phil discovered the entire Halifax area was out for 2 hours early Saturday. “Broken Britain! I can’t believe gammons still don’t think tories are incompetent,” he observed. I countered: “They can’t really believe that anymore, but can’t admit they’re wrong and in denial, say it’s better than the coalition of chaos!”  Installing advent gubbins, I found a broken candle holder, then hoovered and disposed of recycling, needing to rest before visiting the unadvertised Christmas market – oddly on the same street as The Store, where Phil heard about it.  Seeing Counsellor Friend and partner, we joined them to peruse crap crafts and catch up.  I learnt her mum died last month (Phil knew and assuming I did, never mentioned it), they were buying a house in the next town and she was planning to top up her pension pot; I advised she didn’t.  We waved bye and munched greasy Serbian pies.  Past the lit tree in the square and up the pedestrian street, we spotted vacant seats outside The Pub.  While ordering, I observed changes since our last visit, pre-covid.  Tasty-looking nuts in jars replaced pies on the bar.  The servers said the butcher who used to make them, mysteriously stopped and asked if the Serbian ones were good – they weren’t keen on the lubricious aspect.  Supping ale, I remarked Counsellor Friend had progressed from being skint to house-buying while we seemed to go backwards.  Nothing personal intended, Phil got defensive.  I changed tack to muse over people either having no job or three, and the state of the world.  Dozy in the gloaming, we went home.

On Laura K Sunday, Jerk Berry concurred with Mark Harper’s ‘getting a grip’ drivel.  Hoping the RMT would get a letter Monday, Frances O’Grady welcomed the government’s altered tone, but railed against Broken Britain.  After the Barclay debacle, Pat Cullen repeated it was ‘negotiation or nothing’.  Prof Hannah Fry agreed problems went back much further than the war or covid.

Phil dreaded a 5-day week.  Covering for a colleague’s hospital appointment, he had a late followed by an early again,  Not ideal with shifts playing havoc with his body clock, I suggested eschewing more hours but as they forgot he’d volunteered for extra work, he hoped it was a one-off.  Trees emitting steam in the cold grey, I stayed in to be disturbed by noisy stone-cutting on the street below, unceasing till dark.  I placed an Ocado order and made granola bars. Chopping cranberries and nuts interminable, the stupid electronic scales kept turning off.  Exhausted with backache, I checked commemorative coin values to discover we actually had a Brexit 50p – sadly only worth 50p. thanks to the queen dying, Paddington was worth a bit more.  Despite a sunny Monday, there was more condensation to deal with.  Orange barriers blocking the small steps, explaining the stone-cutting, I took the longer way to the co-op.  Very busy for the time of day, a miserable woman shelf-stacking gave me a dirty look.  I asked her kinder colleague to pass me an item, grabbed clearance stuff and queued at the till.  Phil brought home 2 bagful’s of Milk Tray.  Sold to outlet staff for a charitable donation, he planned to eat them, I proposed giving them away – a compromise was made.  Accepting the idea of working Christmas and looking forward to a bonus Amazon voucher and mince pies, the manager who hadn’t had a day off for 6 weeks, understandably refused to open.  I put  his shift pattern on the calendar, and ordered Christmas gifts under his nose.  The next two days cold and foggy, Tuesday, it didn’t lift.  Just after I heard Phil going to work, the landline rang.  Drowsy, I vaguely realised it’d be the freezer.  At a loud door knock, I shouted and donned a dressing gown, badly.  Telling them they were early, the nice delivery men said someone had to be first.  I meant by 2 days, not 2 hours!  “Where do you want it?” They asked.  I indicated the kitchen steps: “Down here if you don’t mind,” “Ok.” “Thanks. The men who delivered our fridge wouldn’t take it down.” “Well, they weren’t as nice as us! You can give us a 5-star rating!!”  I forgot to do so.  Placing it exactly in the spot I’d cleared, unpacking was a doddle except removing the polystyrene stand.  I got an endorphin rush at the shiny smell.  Sad I know, but when did I last have anything brand new? 

When Phil returned, I asked did he notice anything?  “A freezer.” “Well, a box.” “You mean I don’t have to lug it down?” “No. Are you impressed?” “Yes, did you do it.” “Yes, ha, ha!”  He settled on the sofa with a groan. “You’re tired. Thought you were finishing at 2 didn’t you?” “Yep.” “I did wonder when you asked last night. How did the granola bar work out?” “Much easier at 6 in the morning.”  Siestas disturbed by chainsaws, I stuck earplugs in then they stopped!  Channel-hopping to avoid the match build-up, Phil asked: “What’s this crap?” Boycotting among the sportswashing lasting almost 1½ weeks, I relented to watch England beat Wales.  Dullness joined by nasty stuff falling out of the sky Wednesday 30th, Phil thought we were going to The City. “No way! It’s too horrid and I’m knackered from sorting the freezer.”  He played with polystyrene packaging and I repurposed it as makeshift insulation against the coldest walls.  Keir inexplicably led PMQs on private school donations and blocking new homes.  Rishi replied they were aspirational and wittered about labour joining picket lines.  Keir went on, every week, the PM handed money to those who didn’t need it, buckled under pressure, and got weaker.  Rishi countered he had the same old labour ideas, with more debt, strikes and migration, and was laughed at mentioning control of borders.  Ian Blackford wished all a happy St. Andrews Day and 56% polled by YouGov saying it was wrong to leave Europe, fumed about a bill to rip up EU laws racing through, labour trying to outrun tories on Brexit the bugbear of Scottish independence.

At 741, homeless deaths in 2021 reverted to pre-pandemic levels.  Immensa’s Wolverhampton lab incorrectly gave 39,000 negative covid results September/October 2021.  UKHSA estimated this led to an extra 55,000 infections, 680 hospitalisations and 23 deaths.  No immunity and toddlers good at spreading germs, kiddie flu rose 70%.  Parents were urged to get them nasal vaccines.  China’s zero-covid policy may have led to few fatalities and more growth (at least ‘til this year), but hampering rescues, 10 died in an Urumqi flat fire Thursday.  Demos across the country over the weekend, BBC cameraman Ed Lawrence was beaten and arrested during a clampdown Monday.  Chinese authorities said he didn’t show his press pass and it was for his own safety so he didn’t catch covid off the masses.  UK media described protestors as brave, unlike our own, who were nutters!  The Met assuring Londoners they were ready to deal with disruption in the yuletide run-up, Just Stop Oil marched round Trafalgar Square stopping commuters getting to the station.  German and English scientists grew a coronavirus in a lab to watch it mutate and American boffins made a universal flu vaccine to blunt the impact of future pandemics.  Lecanemab, a new early Alzheimer’s treatment, attacked beta amyloid (sticky gunge build-up in the brain).  Costing tens of thousands a pop, it was hailed as a momentous breakthrough.  Liam Smith was found shot and covered in acid in Shevington, Wigan.  Triggering a health alert, the GMP later told the public there was no risk.  Using the Vaccine Taskforce blueprint, Rishi announced £113m for 4 research ‘missions’: cancer, obesity, mental health and addiction.  He then told Mansion House he wished to develop the ‘quality and depth of partnerships with like-minded countries’ (USA, Israel, Gulf and Commonwealth states, but not the EU!)

Blast Furnace Blast

The Warm Homes Prescription Pilot launched December 2021, was extended for patients who got sicker in the cold.  Redcar blast furnace was blown up live on BBC Breakfast, making way for a freeport.  National Grid immediately cancelled blackout warnings.  RAC finding retailers not passing on lower petrol costs, Grant Shatts asked supermarkets to cheapen it.  Peter Smith of NEA was ‘disturbed’ utility direct debits went up when customers made huge efforts to reduce use.

E.On admitted it’d be a year ‘til economies were reflected in bills.  Food inflation now 12.4%, (14.3% for fresh food), 3 in 10 single parents skipped meals to feed their kids, 3 in 5 students cut back and Oxfam found 35% spent less on Christmas gifts.  Cheddar sales falling by £31m, Richard Clothier of Wyke Cheese was ‘extremely worried’.  A shortfall of 1m turkeys, 1,840 domestic chickens were abandoned – why not stick them in the freezer to roast?  Diggle Village Association defended spending £1,450 installing a tiny living firtree as it worked out cheaper than buying one a year.

GMB said few toilet breaks at Amazon’s new ‘fulfilment centre’ in Wakefield, caused stress to 1,000 workers.  No buyer found, Martin Wilkinson Jewellers in Mansfield, likely the oldest in the UK at 228, would shut.  According to Link, 114 HSBC branch closures made the total 600.  100 jobs lost and customers forsaken, Unite’s Dom Hook railed, without corporate social responsibility requiring banks to stay on the high street helping the elderly and vulnerable, access to cash and banking would be lost forever.  The union were disappointed ambulance staff at only 8 trusts voted to strike.  During the latest CWU action, Dave Ward claimed an out-of-depth Royal Mail CE Simon Thompson, not interested in providing a universal postal service, was destroying it.  8% of Avanti and 5.8% TPE trains cancelled on non-strike days, en route to see 5 northern mayors, Mark Harper harped on about modernisation and sorting out the row.  Mayors said the meeting was constructive but they needed investment, not warm words.  After 2 weeks of talks, the Rail Delivery Group said real progress was made.  Not hearing the desired proposals, the RMT announced four 48-hour strikes December-January plus overtime bans over the festive period.  Lynch blamed ‘the dead hand of government’ and The Sun headlined ‘The Lynch Who Stole Christmas’.  Lynch met Harper Thursday, who said there was ‘common ground’.  Scottish teachers and English lecturers walked out.  Formal negotiations ongoing in Scotland, Westminster rejected them, so the first 2 NHS strike days were announced as 15th & 20th December.  Bestfood (owned by Tesco and Booker) workers in Burger King, KFC, Pizza Hut, Wagamama, Zizzi and Pizza Express, were balloted.  National Coalmining Museum staff accepted a new pay offer, meaning no more strikes after one in October (another hidden dispute!)

Net migration a record ½m, more EU nationals left but 509,000 others included Ukrainians and Hongkongers on bespoke visas, and students.  Downing Street declined to give a timespan on reducing numbers.  After an inmate died in hospital, Manston processing centre was emptied and detainees moved to hotels across the country.  40,000 living in hotels, HO compulsorily moved others out.  PS Matt Rycroft couldn’t tell the home affairs select committee if paying Rwanda £140m was good value. Blaming migrants and traffickers, Swellen admitted they’d lost control of borders and vowed to make ‘sustainable changes’ with 3 decisions per worker per week by next year – currently 0.6 a week, it wasn’t feasible.  Unable to describe legal routes, she stammered that if you arrived in the UK you could apply for asylum.  Having to step in, Matt said people could apply to UNCHR but this option wasn’t available in all countries.  Coop spluttered that an out-of-depth Swellen didn’t even know her own policies.  Harem Ahmad Abwbaker was arrested for 27 channel drownings November 2021.  The Marine Accident Investigation Branch found they’d reached UK waters.  3 stowaways from Nigeria were discovered on a ship’s rudder in The Canaries.

After beating Argentina at the World Cup, Saudi Arabia declared a national holiday.  The favourites were out by the end of week.  About to play Japan, the German team covered their mouths to signify they’d been silenced.  Home-nation Qatar were eliminated, Iran were booed singing their national anthem, but after goalie Wayne Henderson got the first red card of the tournament, beat Wales.  World Cup chief Hassan al-Thawali estimated 500 workers died building stadia.  Officially 3, we’d never know the real figure.  Round-the-clock efforts reconnected 80% of Ukraine to essential water, electricity and heating.  Olena Zelenska got a standing ovation as she thanked the UK parliament for support and asked them to lead a special tribunal.  The EU wanted the UN to head the tribunal.  Stewart Rhodes of right-wing Oath Keepers was convicted of sedition for the Washington Capitol attack 6th Jan 2021.  A Walmart manager killed 7 colleagues and himself in Chesapeake, Florida.

Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac and Wilko Johnson died, for real this time.  Irene Cara known for singing ‘I’m Gonna Live Forever’, didn’t.  In UK census results, only 41% of Leicesterians identified as white.  Christians a minority for the first time, more people had no religion, and an extra 1m were Moslem.  A fungi project found rare species in fields at The Crags.  A 3rd-5th century Roman villa complete with ash in the fireplace and mosaics depicting Homer’s Iliad, was unearthed in a Rutland field.  Resembling Toy Town on a bigger scale, York traders complained the St Nicholas fair took their business away.  We noted the Christmas market mark-up.  A car drove through Kake temptations’ window in Batley.  The driver really needed cake!

*Permacrisis – an extended period of instability and insecurity

**HMICFRS – His Majesty’s Inspectorate of Constabulary and Fire & Rescue Services

References:

i. My Cool Places blog: Hepdene Rose | Cool Places – Our Back Yard (wordpress.com)

ii. Brexit Island: Brexit Island – Home | Facebook

Part 71 – Ping Pong

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

The ‘P’ of the Ping

Haiga – Walking on Water

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lost and Found

Scooter in River

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pingdemic

Lost Coffee Cup

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

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

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

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

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

Part 63 – Ready, Steady…?

“I don’t know how much more I’ve got to give to the NHS. We’re not getting the respect and now pay that we deserve. I’m just sick of it” (Jenny McGee)

Proceed with Caution

Haiga – Bejewelled i

During a tidy up Monday morning, I searched bags for masks.  5 out of 10 still missing, it remained a mystery where half had gone.  After posting blogs and starting a draft of the next episode of the journal, I went to the co-op, dodging busy traffic on the main road and screeching kids cluttering up the shopfloor.  Waiting at the kiosk, I turned round to ask a young man standing close behind me to move back when the cash-desk suddenly looked free.  But on approaching, my mate said he was still serving.  Oops!  Phil had disposed of all the rubbish while I was out.  Chores done, I sat in a patch of sun on the garden wall, admiring bluebells and raindrops on leaves.  Sleep was mediocre that night even with the meditation soundtrack.

The next step of the waymark reached, pub sales promptly jumped (2% higher than the same day 2020).  Train companies added 2,500 services and bus capacity increased to 60 passengers.  Additional ‘freedoms’ enabled trips to museums, cinemas, and foreign lands, albeit a limited number.  BBC breakfast showed planes queueing on the runway to fly to Portugal, while metro reported airports were quiet.  Go figure!  In the familiar mantra of pushing responsibility onto the public, the government instructed us to ‘proceed with common sense’ and ‘a heavy dose of caution’, said we shouldn’t be going to amber countries and condemned tour operators for putting on extra flights.  So why was it legal then?  In Wales, indoor hospitality and entertainment were allowed as the alert level dropped to 2.  In Scotland, 6 people could meet, except in Glasgow and Moray.  The NAO cost-tracker revealed £172bn was spent on dealing with the pandemic so far (the total forecast was £372bn).  Of 2,322 instances of the Indian variant, 483 were in Bolton and Blackburn.  Newsnight discussed the upsurge with 2 local MPs.  Yasmin Qureshi, Labour MP for Bolton SE, said people weren’t ‘choosing’ not to have the vaccine as The Cock irresponsibly suggested; the issue was access.  Originally only 1 hub in the town centre with 6 vaccinators, she’d asked ages ago for community facilities.  Mark Logan, Tory MP for Bolton NE agreed take-up wasn’t the problem as transmission occurred in younger people.  Both lauded the recently introduced mobile unit which administered 6.200 extra jabs over the weekend.  A 100 extra testing volunteers were also welcomed but local lockdown measures weren’t.  Adam Finn of JCVI warned immunisation didn’t have an immediate effect and was no good for firefighting; they needed to think about the whole country and stick to the vaccination strategy.  So, I wondered, how come they stuck to the age groups in Bolton but reportedly immunised all over 18’s in Blackburn?  Poet Laureate Simon Armitages appeared at the end of the programme.  He’d obviously spent lockdown eating pies!

Further to The Cock’s comments, metro’s ‘refuseniks’ headline and Andrew Lloyd-Webber calling people selfish for not being vaccinated, had me spluttering into my morning cuppa on Tuesday.  The privileged git seemed to think his tawdry shows were the most important thing in the world!  Receiving reminders for our second jabs, Phil said he’d be less worried afterwards. “It will take a few weeks to be effective,” I warned.  “True. And rates will still go up, especially with young people  doing that silly thing again.”  “What? going to the pub for face-licking?”

I worked on the journal until 3, when I decided we needed to get outdoors in the warm sunshine and suggested a spot of gardening.  I  tore bindweeds out, hacked at brambles and filled another pot with soil from the old compost bin (itself turning into compost) to plant more wild garlic bulbs.  Meanwhile, Phil poked at worms and planted the Christmas tree seeds I gave him (second time lucky?)  In the evening, I left him watching highlights of Leeds United winning on MOTD to have a bath and set the alarm for 8.00 a.m.   On a still night, I drifted slowly into slumber.

Following reports of 150 flights to France, Greece, Spain and America on Monday, the PM’s official spokesman briefed the press that travel to amber countries was only permitted for strictly limited purposes (work, essential services or compassionate reasons) and underlined the message of shifting the onus: “we are moving to a situation where the public can take responsibility for their actions.”  But Useless George told us while we shouldn’t go on holiday, we could go to see family and friends, as long as we observed quarantine rules.  Nick Thomas-Symonds retorted that borders had ‘unravelled into dangerous chaos’ within hours, with “a lack of strategy, which has meant the UK government, and their own ministers, are giving out conflicting advice.”  Total relaxation on 21st June looked uncertain.  The Bumbler said as vaccines built a ‘wall of defences’, he didn’t “see anything conclusive at the moment to say that we need to deviate from the road map.”  But caution was required, the situation would be ‘closely observed’ and we’d know more in a few days.  However, a source reported the chances of restrictions being lifted as planned were ‘next to nil’.  Speculation mounted that if outbreaks were limited to specific areas, local measures might return.  When would they learn that didn’t work!  The nurse who looked after Boris when he had Covid last year, resigned.  Jenny McGee cited a lack of respect for the NHS.

Indoculation

Syringes by Phil

The volume too low, I didn’t hear the alarm Wednesday morning.  I leapt up in panic, to be told by Phil I was ‘daft’.  “There’s no need to be nasty!” I snapped.  A hasty breakfast, coffee and cursory wipe of coffee tables preceded checking bus times and going for one due at 11.29.  The bugger sailed past displaying a ‘not in service’ sign.  As we awaited the next one, rain showers came, not becoming heavy until it arrived.  A bit full for my liking, I huddled in my seat until we reached our stop.  Thankfully, the rain had stopped too.  At the health centre, we waited briefly before being admitted to the consulting room together.  The staff friendlier than the previous visit, my arm hurt immediately after the injection.  The doctor laughed and said it was quite normal.  Unlike the first time, the HCA wrote our names on the cards.  They let Phil take photos of syringes and me take tissues, which I’d forgotten in my haste to leave the house.  We stood outside the exit door to assess symptoms.  Phil agreed the jab had been more stabby but felt okay.  We lingered in the carpark decorated with small apple trees in blossom (see below), then went in B&M for secateurs and came out with a basket-full.  On the way to the market, Phil searched for a cash machine, finding only 1 where there the used to be 3, no longer attached to a bank.  In fact, there was no longer a single branch in the whole valley!  We stopped to chat to The Biker and his partner outside a small pub.  “Are you coming in?” he asked.  “No, we’re still being careful. We’ve just had our second dose.”  Theirs due next week, we compared notes on side-effects.  Word on the street was they could be worse after the booster shot, but we found the opposite.  On parting, I again promised to pass on photos of his barge when we next walked up the canal.  In the market hall, the excellent café was open and still cheap.

After ordering, Phil started to feel weird and went to spend 20p at the public convenience.  Gone awhile, I fretted in case he’d passed out but the delay was caused by trying to navigate doors without touching anything.  Putting masks back on for 10 seconds to get outside, we rested in the community garden, noting fat jackdaws gadding on lush grass studded with dandelions.  Graffiti etched into the picnic table featured acrostics made of the word COVID – Cunts On Various Indoculation Drugs and similar witticisms.  We took the back streets to Lidl, sped round and I used the free loo before going back to the bus stop.  Less packed, we sat well away from 3 women who wore masks as chinstraps as they gassed.

Back home, Phil carried bags to the kitchen and went straight out again for baccy while I sorted groceries.  We reflected we’d achieved a lot during our outing but hated the continual donning and shedding of masks.  “I don’t fancy that just to go in a pub!”  Inevitably tired, I dossed on the sofa and then in bed.  Phil still spacey after a lie down, he threatened to have a pill to feel more weird.  During a disturbed night, I shifted around to prevent lying on my achy arm.  The sounds of chainsaws suggested yet more tree-felling on the railway.  I dropped off when there was a pause in the noise, but it annoyingly re-started in the early hours.

Cases rose by 2,696 but only 3 deaths were recorded.  Amidst the confusion over travel rules, 150 departures a day flew to amber list countries and the EU looked likely to say we could go to the continent if we’d had 2 jabs.  Covboost planned to use 7 different vaccines in trials on 3,000 randomly selected volunteers.  Phil considered applying for Leeds or Bradford but didn’t get round to it.  An entire tower block in Velbert, Germany was quarantined due to some residents testing positive for the Indian variant.  The inflation rate doubled in April thanks to price hikes in fuel and clothes.  10 days since the start of hostilities, the latest death toll stood at 219 Palestinians versus 12 Israelis.  Biden told Israel to ‘de-escalate’, while anti-Semitic vitriol and attacks included a Rabbi being bricked in London.

Waking early on Thursday, I wondered why that hadn’t happened the previous morning when I had to be up!  Wary of my achy arm, I did some exercise and helped Phil change bedding before bathing and working on the journal.  Cold and rainy all day, I put on extra layers but still needed the central heating.  Unable to focus on any more writing, I pottered about before going for a lie down.  Barely able to keep my eyes open while reading, I enjoyed feeling dozy and cosy when Phil made a racket coming up; banging doors, stomping upstairs and singing in the loo!  Irked, I made allowances for the space-headedness making him less conscious of his actions.

Covid dropped to 9th place in the cause of death league even with 2,874 new cases and 7 more deaths.  Andrew Hayward was ‘very concerned’ about the spreadability of the Indian variant and warned of a third wave: “this strain can circulate very effectively…it’s more transmissible than the previous variant.”  He urged  the UK not to ‘waste the opportunity’ vaccines provided by allowing widespread travel.  As 34-35 year olds were invited for a jab, Van Dam said the rate of injections would determine the feasibility of lifting restrictions on 21st June.  Variant case went undetected for 3 weeks (21st April-11th May) in 8 local authority areas, resulting in people self-isolating rather than quarantining, due to a software upgrade of the TIT system.  Equating to 800 cases across the UK, Blackburn was worst affected with 294 cases, followed by Blackpool, York, Bath, NE Somerset, Southend and Thurrock.  Downing Street denied the glitch was linked to surges.  Jeremy Hunt called for test and trace to be local and a surge of 32% in cases in Huddersfield (not all caused by the Indian variant) led to it being declared an ‘area of concern’, targeted testing and a vaccine drive.

Three years since the timetable debacle, Shats finally announced changes to the rail network.  GBR (Great British Railways) would control infrastructure and private operators awarded concessions.  “Delete ‘Great’, seeing as we’re not, take ‘ways’ off the end, and what have you got?” asked Phil.  “British Rail! It’s not nationalisation though!”  Flexi-tickets such as season tickets allowing travel 2 days a week and oyster-type cards were muted but mayn’t necessarily be cheaper.  He echoed pleas to not holiday in amber countries, saying it was a lot of costly hassle.  A vigil in Swansea turned into a riot and was branded ‘disgraceful’ by Nasty Patel.  Peace broke out between Israel and Palestine but how long would the ceasefire last?

QT discussed ‘should we go on holiday?’  Nick Thomas-Symonds parroted the ‘slow, slow, slow’ line.  Nads Zahawi tried to defend the government position.  The Man from Iceland, Richard Walker, was perversely planning a trip to Greenland but wasn’t sure now.  Most of the panel agreed unclear messages caused confusion over the amber list, some wanted red and green only while Devi Sridhar said the traffic lights didn’t work at all.  She pleaded instead for patience until October when everyone was fully vaccinated and had Covid Passes, as happened in other countries (without specifying which ones).

Waxing Lyrical

Apple Blossom

Phil still felt weird Friday morning but improved later in the day.  My arm not as painful, I managed a fair few exercises.  Computing slow, Phil resorted to turning the internet off and on again while I went to the co-op.  Staff re-stocking shelves ludicrously obstructed every aisle, oblivious to teenagers puzzling over the coffee machine let alone those of us just trying to get groceries.  Although not a big shop, I couldn’t even lift the bags with my bad arm.  I waited outside with a laden trolley for Phil to come and help as yet another shower descended from the leaden sky.  Still no sign, I rang to prompt him to get a shift on.  In the afternoon, I whizzed through the Eurovision songs.  The Slovenian entry was so Euro I had no idea how it didn’t make the final.  Strong competition from Lithuania, Serbia, Moldova, Italy and France, gave the UK no chance.

ONS data showed Covid infections going up, but not alarmingly (yet).  Rates were highest in Yorkshire & The Humber, the North East and South East, and lowest in the South West.  49 cases of a new variant detected mainly in Yorkshire & Humber, were ‘under investigation’.  On Look North, Kev Smith of PHE said there were about 3,000 mutants worldwide but only a few merited concern.  The Indian variant thought to be 30% more infectious, the NHS aimed to administer a first dose to all adults by the end of June, a month ahead of schedule.  The WHO found all vaccines worked on all strains but said social-distancing remained important. Dr. Hans Kluge warned: “Vaccines may be the light at the end of the tunnel but we cannot be blinded by that light.”  Boris pledged to join the WHO’s Global Pandemic Radar; setting up a network of surveillance hubs by the end of the year, to ensure the world wasn’t “caught unawares again by a virus spreading among us unchecked.”  Having warned of thousands of deaths, sage scientists now said a third wave was unlikely to overwhelm the NHS.  Mobile vaccination centres moved into Blackburn and Bedford.  The EU set to introduce covid travel certificates for its citizens by 1st July, Spain would welcome tourists from Monday even though it was on the UK’s amber list.

Starting grey on Saturday, the weather remained fine and the sun re-appeared late afternoon.  Phil went to town for shopping and photography.  I took a pile of recycling out, greeted a couple of neighbours and was busy pruning when he got back.  The new secateurs proved effective on the shrubs at the back of garden which had gone rampant, as too had the creeping buttercup.  Lovely yellow flowers they may be, especially in the wild, but the root tubers were a nuisance.  I hacked at the worst of it until I got hot and tired.

Phil broke the cafetiere jug while washing up.  The protective rubber rings long since lost from the tap, it was an accident waiting to happen.  In the evening, we watched the shiny waxing moon cross the sky and the Eurovision Song Contest.  My opinions altered slightly on a second hearing and San Marino gained cred points with guest artist Flo Rida waxing lyrical.  Switching to Netflix when the interminable voting started, we subsequently discovered Italy won, France came second and the UK were bottom with nil points.  Nothing to do with Brexit!

Rising late Sunday morning, I helped Phil find a replacement jug for the cafetiere and placed an Ocado order before drafting a haiku.  The weather changeable all day, there was a brief bright spell late afternoon.  I considered going out when it became cold and rainy again.  Instead, I patched another pair of jeans while Phil rooted out a handy repair kit to put rubber rings on the end of the kitchen tap to guard against further breakages.  On a manic last day of the football season, Leeds finished a creditable 9th in the table.

72% of adults now had 1 dose and 43% had 2 vaccine doses.  Over the weekend, discovery of the Indian variant in more places led to surge testing in West London and over 18’s being offered jabs in Rochdale.  Self-isolation pilots were coming to Newham, Hackney, Yorkshire & Humber, Cheshire, Merseyside, Manchester, Peterborough and Somerset.  A PHE study demonstrated protection of up to 80% after 2 doses of AZ or Pfizer.  Even so, Germany called the UK an ‘area of variant concern’ and banned travel, effective Sunday midnight.  The Scumbag blogged that ‘herd immunity’ was the Plan A government strategy at the start of the pandemic and Plan B was “bodged amid utter and total chaos.”  Nasty Patel came on the Marr to repudiate.  The plot was to thicken in the coming days.  Belarus effectively hijacked a civilian Ryanair plane flying from Athens to Vilnius.  They told the crew there was a bomb on board, scrambled a MiG-26 fighter jet and ordered them to land at Minsk.  Activist Journalist Roman Protasevich and his girlfriend Sofia Sepaga were promptly arrested.  As Mike O’Leary claimed there were KGB agents on board, western leaders expressed outrage.  But what action would they take against the sky piracy of the despot Lukashenko?

Reference:

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 17 – 100 Days

The 100th  Day

1 - Haiga - Ethereal
Haiga – Ethereal i

As the month came to an end and we approached 100 days of lockdown, the outlook remained bleak.  Dingy wet conditions resembled autumn rather than summer.  Most days, I struggled to get up, but staved off debilitation.  Following the tedious Monday chores, I again donned the anorak to brave the supermarket.  Idiots and hippies bumbled in the aisles.  I overheard The Wanderer call someone a ‘super spreader’.  The cheek of it!  Enjoying a meze-style dinner, I observed our meals often featured a Mediterranean theme of late.  “That’s because it’s summer.” Phil remarked.  Glancing out the window at a still dismal scene, I said “Hmm.  Allegedly.  And we won’t be going to the Med this year.”

The mayor of Leicester expressed displeasure at the prospect of a city lockdown, wanting the evidence of its effectiveness.  When Matt Cock confirmed the local measures entailed shutting schools and non-essential shops and discouraging non-essential travel, the mayor seemed to approve, contradicting his earlier gripes.  I was still confused about whether we were yet meant to use public transport for leisure or not.  As our nation was revealed as the worst in the EU at handling the crisis (truly ‘world beating’!) the Panorama programme featured testing.  I learnt  that the original testing centres in car-parks ran by Deloitte (because accountants are bound to be better at this lark than the NHS, obviously), were staffed by amateurs given only a few hours’ training rather than medical professionals.  Later in the week, a ‘We Own It’ petition collected signatures for TIT to go local and to sack Serco.   They should have added Deloitte.

I woke early on Tuesday, clutching an earplug.  Had there been noise in the night?  If so, why hadn’t I put it in my ear?  Unable to post a link to the journal on Facebook  after a day trying, I made another attempt. Windows then initiated Microsoft Edge and the ‘start search’ box unbidden, locking up the laptop so I had to crash it.  I became incensed, swore loudly and almost threw the thing on the floor.  Phil admonished: “Don’t do that.  You’ll have to buy a new one.”  He solved the Edge issue but was flummoxed by the others.  I continued to fume, had a break to calm down, then switched to other computer tasks.  I later succeeded in posting the link on Twitter bit still not to Facebook.  What was the point in setting up a ‘personal blog’ page on the thing if I couldn’t post blogs on it?  Thoroughly fed up, I changed tack completely, spending the afternoon on RAD ballet lessons and sewing.  I emerged from my siesta to find family messages.  With mum frailer, hardly eating and not wearing her glasses as they kept falling off, there was concern all round.  I tried ringing the care home but was unable to get through.  Later in the week, I spoke to one of the senior carers who told me the GP refused to visit but she was due to have a consultation soon.

In the evening, my head drooped with severe fatigue.  I initially fell into deep slumber, woke to lie in a stupor for a time, slept some more, then got woken by loud clattering outside caused by roadworks on the corner of the main road.  Still dark, I found this very inconsiderate!  With the aid of earplugs, I eventually dropped off again.

The First Social

2 - Flowers in The Park - Delicate white
Flowers in The Park

Feeling dicey again on Wednesday morning but not ill, I forced myself up, worked on the journal and watched PMQs.  Keir challenged Boris on the numbers tracked and traced (about a quarter of those referred to the system) and on failing to provide all the data to local authorities (only pillar 1 data from hospitals had been released and not pillar 2; community data).  During the day, it emerged that after Leicester, places with the highest infection levels included Bradford, Barnsley, Rochdale and Tameside – all not far from here (the latter my home borough) and with sizeable BAME communities.  Was there a link?  The next day, it transpired the levels in Bradford had dropped again – what was that about?

Meanwhile, the US bought up almost all the stocks of Remdesivir, leaving Brits who’d risked death in the trials incensed.  The drug was sold by Gilead, apparently not ironically named after the Handmaid’s Tale republic but for the balm of Gilead, an alleged cure-all mentioned in the bible.

I’d arranged an outing with my walking friend; the first social meet-up with anyone since March!  As she knocked, I called that I’d be out in a minute, got no answer and cautiously opened the door.  She was about to move a bike blocking the top of the steps.  I implored her not to touch it due to the lack of social distancing in the neighbourhood, saying I’d kick it out the way when I had shoes on.  By that time, a  kid had moved it but left it blocking the pavement.  I checked the nest to see if the wasps had scarpered during the heavy rain.  They had not.  My friend exclaimed “ Get rid!” insisting they were evil and would repeatedly sting willy-nilly.   As we walked towards the park, I pleaded the wasp’s case; they only stung when felt threatened; I had since learnt to respect them; they were very clever and as important to the environment as bees, the only difference being they didn’t make honey.  As we past the Isolating Friend’s house, she stood on the threshold chatting to a passer-by .  She reached for my book but I said I’d collect it another time.  In the park, we waited patiently to be served take-ways from the café.  I got a can of pop.  She bought coffee, ice cream and cake.  I gulped.  “Why not?” she asked. “It’s your blood sugars.”  I conceded.  We commandeered a wooden seating block for the repast before strolling on the outer paths through the wild sections of the park.  Our discussions encompassed  various aspects of the current situation including people thinking the crisis was over and being saddled with the worst government ever at the worst time in history for 100 years.  I related my experience of the anti-body trial.  Working in a care home for adults with high-dependency, she was tested every 2 weeks, but had no faith.  Apparently, some people waited days for results while others received them before they’d submitted samples!  (Probably due to the unholy triangle – TIT/Serco/Deloitte).  She described the process involved entering the building, preparing for her shift and dealing with food deliveries.  “I can’t wash it all; there’s too much.  One of the resident’s has a birthday tomorrow and he’s asked for a Chinese take-away.  We’ve been told to disinfect it.”  Laughing, I said “How on earth are you meant to do that?”  “No idea but I think it’s because it’s Chinese.”  I was quite dumfounded that these attitudes still pervaded.  On a cheerier note, her walking companion was also taking part in the Covid Diary Project with their shared walks acting as a focus for his contributions.  He aimed to turn the narratives into a book for her.  How nice!

We walked on the towpath to the lock.  She needed some shopping so I accompanied her to the road and said goodbye.  On my way back, I noticed Oxfam was open.  The sheer novelty of entering a non-essential shop drew me in.  Measures involved a hand sanitising station, one-way system, distance markers and slimmed-down displays, with a dearth of personal items such as jewellery.  Among the bookshelves, I found ‘Go Set a Watchman’ by Harper Lee.  I made the purchase, glad to have an alternative to the book I was reading: ‘Parade’s End’, meant to be a great war novel, seemed to be about wittering posh people.  Due to the lack of public toilets, I was bursting  for a wee when I got home!

As I settled in bed that night, a grating racket from the roadworks started up.  It took a while to drop off, but I then managed an unusually long kip.

Joyless Apoplexy

3 - Devastated Den
Devastated Den

In spite of the longer sleep, Thursday brought no improvement in my health, or the weather. I joylessly set about cleaning the bedroom.  This took ages, as did the previous week’s journal write-up.  I insisted Phil helped with lunch as a greasy pile of pans sat atop the cooker leaving no room for the baked beans; at least they were warm and filling on such a dull, dreary day.

In the afternoon, I sparked up RAD ballet on YouTube.  Unable to find anymore lessons, I repeated lesson 9 and wondered if it was the last one?  If so, I would need start at the beginning again.  A different machinery din started up at the exact same moment I tried to rest.  I was sick to death of unpredictable sound pollution at random times of day and night!

I gave up and watched telly.  A stupid government briefing focused on schools, with talk of group bubbles, compulsory attendance from September, fines for parents and an emphasis on core subjects, even though students would not be able to drop any GCSE’s or ‘A’ levels.

During the night, funny dreams entailed fist-bumping relatives, which I’d never done in my life!  Again, I had quite a large lump of heavy sleep but woke very early Friday.  Only able to doze after that, I rose at 8 on Friday.

Although still iffy, I managed a trip to the co-op.  Out of deference to others, I thought I should wear a scarf, wrapped it over my face with clean hands then had to blow my nose entailing a faff and potentially contaminated hands!

As I zipped up the ubiquitous anorak, Phil drew me into conversation.  I’d had a fit of apoplexy while watching Jeremy Vine as they unbelievably trounced the Will Farrell Eurovision movie.  We’d been in stitches throughout when watching it the previous weekend.  What were they on?  Phil maintained snobby media people always disparaged American comedies as trashy and brashy, leading us to discuss the use of crudeness for cheap laughs.  He said something I can’t write down which set me off in hysterics.  When I got to the supermarket, I realised I’d forgotten the shopping list, thought I’d use my phone to ask Phil to read it out to me, but had forgotten that too!  I did a decent job of remembering our weekend requirements, but reflected the forgetfulness was due to the distraction just before I left the house.  I took the groceries straight to the kitchen for washing, started prepping lunch and realised I still wore my walking shoes and scarf.  Annoyed, I stomped up to remove the outdoor gear. “You’re getting stressed”.  Phil said needlessly “Yes.  I thought you were coming to help with lunch!” I retorted angrily.

Another daft briefing (so much for binning the daily pointlessness!) announced 73 countries exempt from quarantine requirement from 10th July, for travellers entering England. Leaders of the devolved administrations said communication with the UK government had been ‘shambolic’.

Super Saturday

4 - Duck board 1
Duck Board

As pubs opened from 6.00 a.m. I resolutely stayed indoors on a blustery Super Saturday – our ‘Independence Day’ (sic).  Phil cut my hair which had grown very thick and bushy in the past 2 months.  No salon queueing for me!  I then planned to bake citrus polenta cake but the lemons had gone green so I scratched that.  Phil headed to the bakers instead.  I urged caution in case of mayhem.   He said town resembled a normal pre-lockdown Saturday, regardless of the dubious weather.  Searching on-line, I found no scenes of bedlam anywhere, at least during the early part of the weekend.

Sunday morning, the government patronisingly praised the public for largely behaving responsibly belying the sceptics (including me), but pictures of Soho resembled a street rave.  Back in Leicester, Matt Cock blamed sweatshops for the rise in coronavirus cases while it transpired people residing in the lockdown zone travelled to Market Harborough where boozers were open.

Remaining windy, at least the rain briefly stopped allowing the sun to break through. I opened the curtains to the weird sight of a barge sailing past down in the valley – a reminder that holidays were now allowed.  We discussed the prospect of venturing out of area in the near future.  Remaining jittery due to flouters and unclear on the official advice on travel for leisure purposes, I wanted to see how it panned out with the guinea pigs eager to jump in feet first.  I favoured trialling a short outing in the short-term before risking a longer trip (possibly in a couple of months to coincide with my birthday).

I planned to use up a b&w camera film for a ‘town trail’ project.  Rain returned as we set off down the road where the inclement weather had devastated the child’s den while the not-2 metre markings had been mixed up by the road workers digging up paving at the corner.   I took 2 photos of historic landmarks before crossing the bridge.  Ducks squatted on plywood.  “ duck boards!” I quipped.  “They’re getting ready to raft off when Armageddon hits.” Said Phil.  In the centre, people cavorted outside a pub and congregated outside cafes.  “See. Just like normal.”  Attempting more photos, heavier rain and a packed square prevented unimpeded shots.  I gave up.  It would have been the last weekend of the arts festival, known for free street theatre, so maybe the hordes turned up out of habit.  I’d earlier tried to peruse Open Studios, on-line this year, but couldn’t fathom it.  At the market, we considered Vietnamese salt n pepper chips.  The tiny van offered stingy portions.  Deciding the chip shop would be much better value, we found it shut.  Defeated, we headed up to see if our favourite charity shops were open.  A scrummage took place outside the first.  Further up, the large vintage hospice shop entailed the now-familiar handwashing and one-way procedures.  Following the same route I always took, it didn’t seem too weird, but it was hard not to touch things whilst browsing.  I waited on a distance marker to go up to the first floor.  Situated in a tight corner, it was impossible to see into the stairwell and check if anybody was descending.  A volunteer admitted “It’s a bit of a bottle-neck.  Don’t worry about it.”  “I do worry about it!  Why do you think I’m not in the pub!”

As another shower threatened a soaking, we returned home for lunch and telly.  Countryfile launched the annual photo competition. With the theme ‘bright and beautiful’, I considered entering.  Mind you, this would entail trawling back a few weeks to find anything that matched the brief.  The nation clapped for the 72nd anniversary of the NHS.  In these parts, it was the sound of one hand clapping…

5 - Mixed Messages
Mixed Messages

Reference:

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