Part 52 – Balancing Act

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

A Game of Percentages

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weighing Things Up

Rishi’s Balancing Act (Cartoon by Guy Venables)

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

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

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

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

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

Counting The Cost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paying The Price

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

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

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

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

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

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

References:

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

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

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

Part 51 – Magic, Mayhem and Mystery

“Boris Johnson appears to have finally learned a lesson about the dangers of overpromising and underdelivering” (Devi Sridhar)

Magic Monday

Very achy at the start of the week, it was a struggle to get up. A typical Monday mired in nasty jobs was brightened somewhat when I took the rubbish out by sightings of the sun and several neighbours. Exchanging pleasantries with the woman next door, the elderly couple emerged for a stroll. We compared health notes. She’d unfortunately had another fall but celebrated her birthday with balloons and an opera singer performing outside. I’d heard nothing from my sickbed on the other side of the house. Phil later said he had. “She must have been good, it sounded like a recording.” “It’s a pity the rest of the terrace didn’t know. We could have stood on our doorsteps to enjoy the magic.” Enquiring if they’d had the jab, he had. She declared “no chance!” “Oh come on! If they wanted to put chips in us, they’d have done it decades ago. And anyway, Google can already track you.” Chuckling, he said: “I’ve told her, who’d want to track us?” “Good point!” I laughed

Forcing myself to rise again on Tuesday, Phil offered to take on the chores. But fed up with so much time in bed, I persevered with cleaning, writing and a trip to the co-op – not too stressful for once. Paying at the kiosk, my member’s card did a vanishing trick. An old acquaintance appeared just in time to indicate its location on the floor. Aching from the heavy load, I rested in the afternoon which helped my back but not my brain.

As deaths were down almost a quarter, a PHS study found ‘spectacular’ hospitalisation reductions of 94% after a dose of the Oxford/AZ vaccine, 85% for Pfizer and 75% in the over 80’s. Schools in Wales and Scotland re-started and Sturgeon announced the ‘stay at home order’ would end north of the border on 5^th April with a return to the system of levels.

The anticipated roadmap out of lockdown dominated English news. Following a Commons session, Boris gave a Monday evening press briefing. Calling the 4-step plan a ‘one way road to freedom’, but undertaken ‘with utmost care’ with 5 weeks between each step to assess the effect on 4 ‘safety tests’ (numbers vaccinated, effectiveness in reducing hospitalisation and death, rates of infection, and emergence of mutants strains). He promised no tiers or curfews but said regional lockdowns were an option to supress surges. Warning of ‘trade-offs’ with more deaths and hospital cases, he maintained there was no such thing as a ‘Covid-free Britain’ and we’d have to live with it like flu. I reflected on the lack of a flu season during the winter. That didn’t happen by magic. Had they learnt nothing from the reduction in touching and breathing on each other? Saying they’d be ‘lead by the data, not dates’, The Bumbler proceeded to reel off a list of dates for each step:

Step 1 – 8^th March – schools and colleges to open with twice-weekly testing and masks for secondary pupils. Students on practical university courses could return but the rest would stay on-line, to be reviewed at Easter. We could have a ‘coffee on a bench’ with 1 other person and 1 regular visitor would be allowed for care home residents.

29^th March – The ‘stay at home’ order ended but we should still keep local. We could meet as groups of 6 or as 2 households outdoors, including private gardens. Outdoor sport and playgroups could resume, capped at 15 participants. There was no mention of going to the office or using public transport.

Step 2 – 12^th April – non-essential shops, gyms and salons would re-open, pubs and restaurants could serve alcohol outdoors and self-catering domestic overnight stays were permitted, including camping. Outdoor venues like zoos and theme parks, indoor play areas, libraries and community centres could also open.

Step 3 – 17^th May – indoor mixing of 6 people or 2 households and up to 30 people outdoors, was permitted. All hospitality, cinemas, theatres, concert halls and sports venues could open, with half-capacity crowds. Adult sport and indoor classes were allowed. Hotels and B&Bs could open and foreign holidays may be possible.

Step 4 – 21^st June – all legal limits on social contact would be removed thus enabling greater indoor mixing, nightclubbing and larger events such as festivals. There was no mention of face coverings or social-distancing rules, although a review was planned.

There’d be pilots of larger crowds and consideration of a ‘Covid Status Certification’ for international travel, later muted to include access to pubs as well as planes. Foreign holiday bookings jumped 7-fold overnight. As The Bumbler confirmed Tuesday that the Glove-puppet would lead the review, he said he was optimistic but “nothing can be guaranteed.” Mike Tildesley warned: “There are certain areas (inner city, deprived)…where vaccine uptake is not high… if we do get these pockets of infection…we could have a more significant risk.”

4 scientists responded in The Guardian. Devi Sridhar said while Boris had finally learned a lesson on overpromising and underdelivering, there were still problems to overcome. She advocated a measles approach to public health, involving vaccines, mass testing and supported isolation. “The imminent risk now is the full return of schools on 8^th March leading to uncontrolled transmission.” Jennifer Dowd of Oxford University added opening schools with little mitigation in place was risky.

SPI-M’s Graham Medley maintained: “Balancing the amount of social contact with the speed of the vaccine roll-out will allow us to exit the epidemic with minimal damage from now on. This will not be the end of Covid-19, and there will be more twists in the tale. But the next few months will be a key step in learning how to live with it.” SPI-B’s Stephen Reicher intoned: “whether this roadmap will ensure an ‘irreversible’ lifting of restrictions is again found in the detail.” A sustainable long-term strategy always was ‘and is still’ lacking. He advocated other measures besides vaccinations including improved TIT, resources to self-isolate, common standards to make places ‘Covid safe’ and proper border controls.ⁱⁱ

Merry Mayhem

I awoke far too early on Wednesday, fatigued and slightly nasal. Phil also felt a bit ill. After a dose of Echinacea, I got going on life admin and writing. During my siesta, I succeeded in 10 minutes’ mindfulness, promptly expelled copious amounts of wind and felt much better all round. Had I expelled stress too? A much better night-time sleep confirmed the theory.

Keir Starmer was exacerbated by another PMQs ‘with no answers’. Quizzed on financial support, Boris called Kier a ‘rocking stool’, said his agenda was ‘paltry’ and advised he wait for next week’s budget. Ian Blackford wanted to know if there’d be another decade of tory austerity. Boris didn’t answer and deflected the question to rant about the SNP wanting to break up Britain.

Following a campaign by DJ Jo Wiley, some people with learning disabilities would be prioritised in the vaccine queue. It was up to GPs to identify them. Neil Ferguson idiotically predicted the ‘road map’ end-date might be sooner than 21^st June if the vaccine roll-out exceeded expectations. Van Dam disagreed: “I don’t want to blow it.” USA deaths reached 500,000 but their vaccine programme was progressing at last. Gwyneth Poltroon shared barmy treatments for long-Covid including ‘intuitive fasting’ and infrared saunas. Top NHS Prof. Stephen Powis diplomatically said her methods were “not really the solutions we’d recommend.” Latitude, Reading and Leeds summer festivals were going ahead. Would revellers need a jab passport? What about under 18’s who weren’t inoculated? It could be a merry mayhem of a Covid-fest!

Thursday was altogether much cheerier. We both felt much better and sun streamed through the windows. Phil helped clear cobwebs dangling from the bedroom ceiling. I spent the rest of the day drafting an article for Valley Life magazineⁱⁱⁱ, adding layers to the Photoshop collage, and going to the market. No queue at the fish van but a limited choice reminded me of Phil’s experience a couple of weeks ago when there was an absence of shellfish. The Fishmonger blamed the famine on Rick Stein telling everyone to eat it now it wasn’t getting to Europe. One of the veg stalls stocked fabled rhubarb from the magical triangle. The sticks fell out of my bag near the riverside steps. Stopping to re-pack, coffee-cuppers and whooping toddlers made me anxious. In spite of my efforts, they fell out again. A hipster behind me said “you need that.” “Indeed. Ever since it was featured on Sunday Brunch, I’ve been thinking: rhubarb!” Emerging from a late afternoon rest, Phil immediately shut the curtains against the dusk as the temperature plummeted.

The alert level down from 5 to 4, the NHS was at less risk of being overwhelmed. The Queen appeared on zoom and advised people to think of others, but didn’t say they were selfish for not having the jab, as the Daily Mail screamed in typical melodramatic style. Emergence of the SA variant in Ealing led to surge testing while Moderna’s tweaked vaccine could be available soon.

Teachers welcomed school catch-up funding to include summer schools, but wanted a longer-term strategy. Teacher assessments were confirmed in place of exams. With tests optional, some warned of inflated grades. Against a backdrop of rising unemployment, The TUC said it was twice as high among the BAME community compared to whites. Asda announced a ‘structural shift’ due to more internet shopping and less cash use, threatening 5,000 jobs, but 4,500 new online jobs were promised. Dodds said councils should be allowed to take over empty shops. Evil tech villain Musk’s skylink provided super-fast broadband in rural areas at an astronomical £89 per month. It sounded spookily like Skynet in The Terminator. Question Time sparked debate on jab passports. What was to stop businesses having their own? Shats tried to defend The Cock’s claim there was never a shortage of PPE, even though we all remembered the mayhem in over-stretched and under-resourced hospitals. Jo Grady called it blatantly misleading.

An almost-full bright moon mitigated against sleep. Even with use of the meditation soundtrack, my slumber was disjointed. Thus I rose later than planned on Friday and had to get a move on to be ready for the Ocado delivery. Unloading a pile of cans and bottles, the driver observed: “Not many people order Mateus.” “Did you know it was the very first rose wine? “Really? My mum used to drink it.” “She’s probably my age then!” Feeling old, I struggled to get the bags to the kitchen, even with Phil’s help carrying the heaviest. “He sounded like a right Rupert.” “I guess he’s had to redeploy with all the hipster bars shut.” Exhausted, I collapsed on the sofa.

Unfortunately, I still needed some stuff for the weekend. Hoping to find treats for Phil’s birthday in the co-op, I declined his offer to accompany me. “After all, grocery shops are virtually the only place I can get your presents.” “I don’t mind extra food.” “It’s a good job!” Searching for items, I saw notices on the egg shelf denoting continuation of the cardboard shortage. I asked my mate at the kiosk if could put the trolley-load through. He apologetically but understandably refused. Avoiding an altercation with the cowbag, cashier, I used the adjacent till.

A lorry at shed boy’s place blocked the steps so I trudged the longer way home. Alerted by the evening news to the appearance of a full Snow Moon, we paused film-night to take photos outside. Phil provided expert tips resulting in superior shots to any of my previous efforts.

Unions blasted the decision not to bump police and teachers up the vaccination priority list. Chair of the Police Federation John Apter said: “This is a very deep and damaging betrayal and will not be forgotten.” Was that a threat? Would there be mayhem on un-patrolled streets? Paul Whiteman, NAHT, whinged: “the government has let them (teachers) down at every turn.” Wei Shem Lin of JCV defended sticking to age criteria: “structuring an entire mass vaccination programme around occupations would be even more difficult.”

In an appeal brought by the Home Office, The Supreme Court ruled that ISIS child-bride Shamima Begum would pose a security risk if she was allowed into the country to appeal against having her British citizenship withdrawn. David Davis tweeted it was a ‘disappointing verdict…the UK cannot simply wash our hands of Brits in Syrian camps’. Quite. And why couldn’t they put measures in place to ensure she wasn’t a threat?

Due to a late night, I had a wobbly start on Saturday and stayed in to finish the collage. Phil went to the shop. He was gone so long I got worried and tried ringing but the call went straight to voicemail. When he rang back, I couldn’t pick up! By the time we spoke, he was almost home. He’d unfathomably gone to town instead of the co-op as I’d assumed, dodging coffee-cuppers and queuing in the convenience store. Due to the delay, dinner prep had to start as soon as we’d had lunch. To compound matters, he said he’d cook but I ended up doing most of it, including rhubarb crumble.

Mystery Unsolved

Sunday, I awoke early to blinding brightness then fell back to sleep until 10. On opening the curtains, the roofs looked white and shiny. Confused, it transpired I’d just missed an intense but brief hailstorm. Wanting to go for a walk in the sun, we bathed and breakfasted as quickly as possible. However, it was past 2 when we were ready. I took some recycling out and spotted a child’s ball in the gutter. Kicking it back to dad, he was surrounded by kids, even though he only had one (to my knowledge) thus not all from the same household.

Walking out in the spring-like warmth, we greeted a neighbour sitting in her back garden. Continuing my research into vaccine take-up, she didn’t know when her invite was due. As she was in our age group, I was able to tell her it would be soon.

On the towpath, Phil commented on the emergence of aging drinkers on benches. “They come out of hibernation around now, like the buds.” Very busy in the park, I observed. “Those native Americans knew a thing or two about the Snow Moon signalling the end of winter.” We climbed up to farmland, finding the fields largely devoid of livestock. We noticed ridges on the slope and a man-made water feature at the bottom for the first time. Subsequently consulting an old map, the site was marked ‘mill pond’ and a mill labelled nearby – a reminder that every opportunity was taken to exploit the landscape in more industrial times. Further up, a decrepit border collie lumbered past. A woman with her own dog asked was it ours. “We assumed it belonged to the farm.” “No, it doesn’t.” As another woman stopped her car, they made a phone call to locate the owner. They obviously all knew each other up there! Resting on a bench at the next corner, a veritable herd of old sheepdogs appeared, this time corralled by their owners. On the way down, we veered off cobbles to cut through the west side of the dark wood. Among the curious arrangements we’d seen in August, we noted several stones of a distinct blue hue with surfaces resembling bubbles. Was it brought here by druids from Wales? We also spotted a painted stone in the hollow of a tree base, deliberately planted holly and makeshift hutments. “Someone believes this place is mystical.” The path became tricky on the last stretch with squelchy mud and a strange channel barely big enough for one foot. Nearing home, skinny catkins sprouted from spindly branches above the river. Inordinately tired after the short walk, we agreed it had been lovely to see signs emerging of the turning of the seasons. (for a fuller description of the walk, see ‘Cool Places’^iv).

During a mediocre night, Covid dreams featured tenements randomly populated by strangers and friends. I inexplicably took a pizza to Vegan Friend. She ate it before I realised it wasn’t vegan!

Over the weekend, the numbers receiving vaccinations reached 20m. Between them, the EU, UK, USA, Australia, Canada and Japan had 1bn extra doses. Over 100 poorer countries had none. PHE found 6 cases of the F1 Manaus variant; 3 each in Scotland and England, 1 of whom was a mystery – they’d failed to fully complete the form rendering them uncontactable.

In Yorkshire, a family was found camping on the edge of a cliff on The Cleveland Way. Lambasted by coastguards, the police were alerted to a breach of Coronavirus Laws.

References:

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

ii. Guardian article: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2021/feb/22/england-covid-roadmap-lockdown-experts-view

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

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

Part 34 – Tiers Of A Clown

“We must learn now that people who went to Eton can’t run this country ” (Danny Dyer)

Political Football

Disorientated by the clock change, I awoke to the sound of traffic Monday morning. Fine rain shrouded the valley. Changeable all day, I caught a bright but blustery spell to put recycling out and exchange a few words with neighbours from across the street, unseen for several months. Blog Posting was quite efficient apart from sharing links which proved problematic The owner of Valley Life Magazine sent an e-mail requesting copy for the final issue of 2020 and asked me to continue contributing next year. Phil went to the shop and re-entered the house with birds tweeting behind him. “Just like Snow White!” Meanwhile, I accepted it was time to put summer clothes away and fetched winter jumpers down from the top cupboard. Luckily, the moths had left them intact this year which made a nice change. Meaning to do some yoga, I felt exhausted from the task and lay down to rest. A heavy shower arrived just before dusk disturbing my repose. As the skies cleared again, Mars and a wobbly moon re-appeared in the dark night.

Warrington was due to join tier 3 from 00.01 Tuesday, followed by Nottingham from Thursday. Two days later, the move was delayed as the whole of Notts was included. The Oxford vaccine showed a promising ‘strong immune response’. Some comfort maybe, with publication of Imperial College research the next day suggesting natural immunity post- infection only lasted a few months.

Tuesday signalled the start of a grey, wet week. Taking ages to get going in the gloom, I set about cleaning the kitchen to find a coffee spill on the worktop. By the time I’d expunged the nasty sticky goo, I needed a break. In the afternoon, I went to the co-op and tried to joke with the normally-friendly cashier at the kiosk: “Lovely weather we’re having!” His face stayed a grim mask.

Speculation mounted that West Yorks would go into tier 3. 50 backbench tories formed the Northern Research Group and wrote to Boris requesting an exit roadmap. Was the red wall crumbling? As Marcus Rashford’s petition reached 1m signatories, Food Tsar Mr Leon Burger expressed incredulity at the government’s inaction on child hunger, setting out a plan including The Holiday Activity and Food Programme: “Their mission is to level up. Clearly there was a massive bear trap that they walked straight into.”

A refugee family drowned in a boat off the Dunkirk coast. Nasty Patel expressed condolences. The chutzpah of the evil bitch who together with her cronies, created the problem by not providing safe routes to the UK for asylum-seekers was unbelievable!

Rants and Raves

The icons spookily disappeared from my phone screen overnight. I thought it was another step in its slow suicide, but Phil ascertained it was due to an update of MS launcher. Reverting back to the default launcher, icons returned in a muddle. I later tried to get it back how I wanted but had to give up as it gave me a headache. A sunny spell Wednesday morning brought an opportunity to shake sofa throws out. The decorating neighbour had a spot of car trouble and fiddled with his engine. Agreeing it was nice to see the sun, he took heed of my prediction the rain would soon return, retreating indoors to await assistance. Aiming to go into town, the cold heavy rain put me off. Instead, I worked on my article for Valley Life Magazine and a plan for 2021. In the evening, I installed the traditional Halloween tree, purchased a couple of decades ago from the Smithsonian catalogue. Already a mish-mash of crepe paper, tape and foil sweet wrappings of Halloweens past, the stem needed further patching. However, the base and figurines still looked freakily new.

Danny Dyer appeared on BBC Breakfast via Zoom to rant: “We must learn now that people who went to Eton can’t run this country… we need some working class people who have lived a real life, people that are in touch with what’s going on in reality.” Asked if he was entering politics, he said he was too busy and added: “Let’s just watch the government unravel themselves.”

West Mids PCC, David Jamiesone said police could enter homes to break up Christmas dinners if families breached lockdown rules (whatever they were at the time): “We’re sitting on a time bomb here. We’re getting very near the stage where you could see a considerable explosion of frustration and energy. Things are very on the edge in a lot of communities and it wouldn’t take very much to spark off unrest, riots, damage.”

Thursday, it rained all day. Feeling under the weather, I forced myself up. I posted ‘Copperopolis’ on ‘Cool Places’ⁱⁱ then donned the anorak and ventured into the maelstrom. Despite school half-term and foul conditions, the useful market stalls had turned up. I rushed round for essentials and back home to divest my sodden outwear before slumping on the sofa. Phil had compensated somewhat for declining to help with shopping by washing up. I spent the afternoon working on the journal and recovering from the ordeal.

Breaking news confirmed that West Yorks was due to enter tier 3 from Monday, along with the West Mids. As 3 people were stabbed in Nice, France declared a state of emergency. I wondered how that interplayed with the lockdown due to start the next day.

Very tired Friday, I did no housework or writing but managed to get to the co-op. Phil met me at the tills, to assist in carrying and sorting groceries. After lunch, I baked proper Lancashire parkin. Unable to resist the yummy aroma, we ate some still warm with coffee. Ideally, it should be wrapped and kept in a tin for a week to go squishy but what the hell.

Covid-19 cases jumped by 47% cases in a week. With 1/5 of England due to go under tier 3, Rabid Raab said a new tier 4 was ‘an option’. On the eve of entering tier 3, Nottingham students in Halloween fancy dress raved in the street. Police said “You will be punished.” In other sad news, an earthquake in the Aegean killed several people in Turkey’s Izmir region.

Spooky Saturday

Awoken by the sun Saturday morning, it soon reverted to grey before Storm Aiden brought wind and heavy rain. We rushed our ablutions as the hot water ran out and the window flew open, in a violent gust (caused by the wind, not a ghost). Tributes poured in for the football 1966 World Cup star Nobby Stiles who died Friday. Football Focus included hilarious footage of the legend, with no hair or teeth, running round the pitch. When asked if he would be any good in the modern game, a pundit quipped that there wasn’t a single player from the 1960’s who wouldn’t find it a doddle now. How true!

Bathroom cleaning well overdue, a bottle of posh shaving gel had leaked all over the shelf. It turned out the plastic was disintegrating, showing how long it was since we’d shopped at duty free (the only place we’d buy such an extravagance). Chore done, I set about cooking beetroot to pickle while Phil popped out for more sugar to make fudge. Following a BBC recipe to the letter, the confection turned out more like toffee but very tasty. It also created more goo to clean up.

Phil spotted the news early that another national lockdown was on the way. Leaked overnight by a so-called ‘chatty rat’, the government had no choice but to bring the official announcement forward by 2 days. Newscasters waited with bated breath for the anticipated briefing as the time kept being pushed back, eventually taking place early evening. Witless and Valance presented an interminable series of mind-boggling graphs before The Bumbler stepped up to the podium. From Thursday 5^th November-2^nd December, there would be no pubs or non-essential shops, cafes and restaurants could only serve take-aways. Working at home was again to become the norm with only essential travel allowed, but schools and universities would stay open. We could only meet 1 other person outside of our household (or ‘bubble’) in a public outdoor space. West Yorks wouldn’t now be entering tier 3 on Monday but we could be back there in December.

Although subject to a commons vote Wednesday, the government couldn’t lose regardless of revolting backbenchers. On Marr Sunday morning, Glove Puppet changed the message from it will end on 2^nd December to it ‘will be reviewed’. Still making it up as they went along, then!

Predictably, no-one was happy. Pubs complained about not being allowed to sell carry-outs (prompting a U-turn). Sporty types whinged about gyms and pools shutting, regardless of the safety measures they’d put in place. I railed against the closure of charity shops and flea markets, which I’d been banking on for cheap Christmas gifts. It seemed unfair to be penalised after being really good since March. If they hadn’t told people to travel about, fly off on holiday and go to the pub over the summer, at least until they’d fixed the awful TIT system, we wouldn’t be in this mess. And then to follow it up with the absurdly complicated tier system, which you couldn’t keep to even if you tried. Gross idiocy! “Tiers of a clown” indeed, as Phil said!

Telly schedules filled up with horror films, more than usual for the time of year. Finding them mainly ridiculous or gross, we came up with a shortlist of our favourite classics: White Chamber (a post Brexit prediction), The Babadook, Hellraiser and Errementari – The Blacksmith and the Devil. NB: The Nightmare Before Christmas was categorised as a Christmas film in our house. Saturday night, we escaped the horrors of reality with red wine, chocolate pudding and a double bill of the first two. Outside, the blue moon hung over an eerily quiet scene. Were the revellers too depressed to go all-out for Halloween?

Soggy Sunday

Inevitably hungover from the wine, it took some time to face the outside world on Sunday, by which time the early sun had been replaced with gloom. I disposed of the empties, which clattered satisfyingly into the recycling bin in true alcy style.

We then ventured into town for a dash round before Lockdown Thursday. Hollowed-out pumpkins on doorsteps turned to mush in the damp air. We wondered why they were never made into lanterns anymore. A fast walker harassed us to rush down the steps. Al fresco café-goers abounded although the pubs didn’t seem overly packed. A few codgers huddled under a gazebo outside the imaginatively-renamed micro bar, now called ‘The Pub’. Amongst largely needless stuff on the Sunday Market, a rustic veg stall supplied excellent knobbly produce. So good I was almost tempted to keep the roasting veg for art purposes. I settled instead for a few photos. The expected rain arrived. Like an idiot, I had neither hood nor brolly. We hurried up the riverside path past the fast-flowing waters in the dismal conditions. The larger charity shops both offered many items at half-price in an attempt to clear stock. The first shop was too crowded on entry. I complained about the lack of staff intervention. Quieter upstairs, I found a couple of Xmas gifts to buy surreptitiously and shooed Phil out. As I struggled to hide them in bags, he hovered just outside the door. I shooed him off again. He then wanted to go back in and look at cameras in an inaccessible corner, leaving me to soak outside. We scooted round a couple more shops then sheltered under the Med café’s awning. It looked shut but a woman came out to ask if we wanted drinks. We made our excuses and hurried home for lunch. The toffee had got softer overnight. A cross between toffee and fudge, we agreed it would be good in ice cream – a homemade Ben & Jerry’s. The roasted veg and Yorkshire pudding dinner was very filling. We ate too much and Phil’s tummy grew. “You’ve got a baby!” Since my healthy eating plan to ward off diabetes had entailed him losing weight too, I was pleased to see him putting some back on. Pumpkin seeds roasted while we ate and we forgot to check on them. Phil hurried back to turn the oven off. “They’re a lovely autumnal nutty brown.” He declared. In other words, burnt.

References:

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

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

Part 33 – A Design For Life

High Noon

Debilitation continued for most of the following week. I spent most of the time in bed, only venturing down occasionally. Phil also still felt rubbish but kept me fed and watered. Monday, a watery sun peeked between grey clouds, signifying rain was on the way. As the leaves on the trees turned from orange to brown, I was glad I’d captured them on camera before the inevitable fall. Among the writing and blog-posting, I unusually slept briefly in the afternoon which was nice.

Only 11% of people told to self-isolate by TIT did so. It was suggested police get details of flouters from DoH and issue fines. The BMA said it would deter people from getting tested. Wales announced a ‘firebreak lockdown’ from Friday for 2 weeks, officially cancelling Halloween and Bonfire night. Barnier agreed to ‘intensified talks on legal texts’ of the Brexit agreement. What did that mean? Newsnight included an analysis of Kier, declaring him a man of mystery. Diane Abbot blamed his mum for instilling a vision of pre-destination by calling him Kier. A more interesting section featured Margaret Calvert, designer of the road signage. Never giving it much thought before, the clear simplicity struck me as amazing. Subsequent additions hadn’t met the high art standard of her work, particularly the stunted horses and frogs.

Tuesday morning, I awoke from a good sleep to the sound of traffic in the rain, lulling me back into a gentle doze. However, this didn’t help in the debilitation stakes and I remained in bed. Phil went to the co-op for a top-up shop and found a fresh cream cake in the reduced section. Obviously intended to cheer me up, I’d planned a day of healthy snacking but felt compelled to eat it before it soured. “How awful, being forced to eat cream cake.” He laughed. It’s a hard life!

440 people lost their lives to Covid-19 in the previous week, now doubling every week. Awaiting pistols at High Noon, the deadline for Manchester came and went. With no agreement, tier 3 restrictions were imposed, effective from midnight Thursday with only £22m extra, towards local TIT and protecting the vulnerable. GMC said they needed 90m, but would settle for the ‘bare minimum’ of 65m. The government offer of £60m was perhaps churlishly turned down by Burnman who said Boris promised ‘levelling up’ when residents of the red wall voted Tory in the last election, but this was ‘levelling down.’ Even Young Conservatives berated the government for betraying the north. Meanwhile, South Yorks agreed a deal for tier 3, to come into force at 12.01 a.m. Saturday and Ireland announced a 4-week lockdown from midnight Wednesday, aka level 5 of a ‘framework for living with the virus.’

In an idiotic call to business leaders, Boris left after 15 minutes and The Glove-Puppet said leaving the EU was “like moving house.” Capitalists were unimpressed. When would they learn The Bumbler wasn’t up to the job? All he could do was waffle and not back up his hyperbole with concrete action, let alone any strategic planning for life after Brexit.

Black Holes and Revelations

I woke several times during the night and eventually gave up on proper sleep on a wet Wednesday, simultaneously fatigued, achy, sneezy, and burpy. Nevertheless, I made a big effort to bathe and dress in time for the Ocado delivery. Able to return bags for the first time since March, I was instructed to put them into 1 single bag. “How many can you squash in there?” asked Phil. The driver then stuffed them into another clean bag. “Bags in a bag in a bag,” I quipped.

By the time we’d sorted the shopping, it was lunchtime. Exhausted by the chore, I took a sandwich back to bed and bemoaned my plight of a spending another week and a half of my life being ill.

On the anniversary of Spanish Flu arriving in Britain in 1918, Keir confronted Boris at PMQs, asking what was the exit strategy for tier 3 areas? Was it related to the R rate? No answer. Metro revealed that the government bypassed Burnman by offering dosh separately to each of the Manchester metro leaders. Bolton was the first to say yes. Marcus Rashford’s petition led to a Labour motion on free dinners for kids during half-term. It Failed to pass, as only a handful of tory backbenchers voted yes. Channelling the SWP, Angela Rayner called a fellow GMC MP ‘scum’. She was right but shouldn’t have said it out loud. She later apologised. Debate on Jeremy Vine the next morning led to us discussing how the benefits system was carefully designed to not be enough to live on. Tory scum either didn’t know this or chose to ignore it when they wittered on about how ‘generous’ it was. In the wake of the debacle, Rashford, fast becoming an icon, divulged information on which MPs voted against the motion and where to get free food. Cafes and councils across the nation stepped in, as did Leeds United, making the government look like a right bunch of c…ts. Over the weekend, pressure mounted as paediatricians joined the call and rival footballer Rahim Sterling founded a charity to help disadvantaged kids.

In what the Daily Mail called a ‘farcical session of the commons home affairs committee’, Police Chief in charge of the pandemic, Owen Weatherkill, revealed he didn’t understand the rules in the different tiers as it was too confusing. Proving his point, he seemed unaware that indoor mixing was banned under tier 2, as did Lancs Police Chief Andy Toads: “The big one for me moving from tier 2 to 3 is your household not mixing with others inside ….” Chair Yvette Coop pointed out mixing indoors was banned in both tiers.

The valley looked fuzzy on Thursday as mizzle obscured the hills. I still felt ill and depressed but had to clean the bedroom. I only managed the bare minimum before exhaustion took over. Following refreshments, I did some work on my novel but had to stop with another bout of fatigue – it would take 10 years to write at this rate! Phil again insisted on doing the catering. I perked up after dinner and settled on the sofa to watch a telly film. But as my sore throat returned and my temperature rose, I had to go back to bed.

TIT still got worse week on week, with a record low of 59.6% people reached, when 101,000 positive tests were reported. Labour called it an ‘interstellar-sized black hole’. Did they mean supermassive? Figures from regions suggested local teams reached 94.8% and York started their own. On Newscast, ex-chancellor George Osborne incredibly claimed the NHS hadn’t been underfunded when he was in charge and took no responsibility for the unpreparedness of hospitals at the start of the pandemic – splutter! Coventry joined other West Mid towns in tier 2. Rishi Rich dished out more dosh for tier 2 areas; JSS extended to cover all jobs, not just ‘viable’ ones; staff now only had to work 20% of their normal hours to get 73% pay (or 1 day a week), and employers only had to pay 5%. Also, £2,200 per month was offered to businesses affected by shorter hours, back-dated to the start of local restrictions. Critics accused him of only extending the earlier offer now that London had gone into tier 2. He promised tier 3 measures were temporary but gave no timescale. Apparently unbeknown to our local leaders, government discussed West Yorks moving up to tier 3. Not reported on Look North, they concentrated on South Yorks, making us wonder anew about the obsession with soft play areas; must be big business in those parts. Maureen, a Barnsley councillor, became the Brenda of the pandemic saying “I don’t give a sod.” (about lockdown).

Friday marked the anniversary of creation, in 4004 BC, according to Archbishop James Usher. “He did the maths,” said Phil, “making everyone well gel hence coming up with all those other theories such as evolution, the creation of black holes and the big bang”. Both still ailing, I spent the day in bedtweaking the journal and the evening watching films.

Croeso I Gymru

Ahead of the Welsh lockdown that night, last-minute clarification came from the First Minister that supermarkets could only sell essential items. Shopping trolley police on standby!

The row rumbled on over the weekend. The devolved administration insisted stopping supermarkets selling non-essentials was ‘a matter of fairness’ (to small shops). As Tesco cordoned off tampons, they then said the rules were being misinterpreted and were intended to prevent people spending too long in the supermarket – make your mind up!

Fright Night films at Chester FC were cancelled as the cinema screen was in England but the loos in Wales. Heddlu gave notice that they would stringently enforce the border. With Halloween and Bonfire Night already looking dicey in England, Sage bod John Edmunds warned a normal Christmas was “wishful thinking.”

Bright Night

I’d started to feel better Saturday but still achy and very cold so after breakfast, I tucked myself back in bed and played around with ideas on the laptop, including a haiga. By 4 o’clock, I was recovered enough to venture down again for a pleasant session of eating, drinking and films.

Mind you, I retired much earlier than usual, even without factoring in the extra hour due to the end of BST. The advantage of this was being up at a reasonable hour on a sunny Sunday. Phil forgot the clocks went back and also surfaced earlier than normal.

Being housebound for 2 weeks and eager to see trees other than those out the window before the lovely colours fell off, I suggested a short walk to a favourite woodland always gorgeous in autumn.

On the main road, we noted leaves already on the ground, soggy due to the rain. A group of young mountain bikers straddling the pavement moved aside for us and exchanged cheery words. Turning up a lane, we found a shortcut to the wood, where the rocks matched the trees, smudged in green, red, orange and copper. Microsoft ICE cobbled together an inaccurate panorama, that captured the mood of the scene. A locked gate meant we were unable to take our usual shortcut through a posh garden and were forced to climb up a horrid stony path. The lane at the top was very busy with walking groups. We tarried near the wall where tiny moss worlds grew, before continuing up. Phil complained the incline never ended. “That’s right,” I told him, “it goes right up to the sky!” We proceeded into the next village for a rare pub visit. I took a table outside while he went in to order pints, brought out by the daughter of a friend. She’d left her previous job after 16 years and I asked why. “Just needed a change.” Phi had trouble scanning his card so donned the mask again to pay inside – at least they took cash too unlike some places

Supping the beer, my hands got cold and I was glad of the gloves in my pocket. Grey clouds threatened rain, then they parted and it became bright again, albeit with not much daylight left. The ale went right through me, thus It was my turn for the palaver of face-coverings to go to the loo. We walked back quickly before twilight. In the longer night, a wobbly moon set behind the trees atop the hills.

Watching the news, we realised we had been very lucky with the weather. The rest of the UK had suffered more rain while the valley remained dry for once. Coppers told a Manchester pub that a large slice of pizza didn’t qualify as a ‘substantial meal.’ Since when were they dinner police? With only 11% complying, a reduction in self-isolation advice was being considered, to 10 or 7 days – where was The Science to back that up? Spain was the first European nation to reach over 1m cases, and introduced a state of emergency until May! Italy opted for a looser lockdown; table service would stop at 6, gyms would shut, and people discouraged to move around, leading to a violent protest in Rome. A group of 7 ‘violent’ Stowaways tried to hijack the Nave Andromeda, a ship anchored near the IOW. After a 10-hour stand-off, the SBS intervened to rescue the crew.

Tired from the walk, I couldn’t sleep that night. Brightness had returned, prompting me to peep through the curtains. Stars twinkled in the deep indigo sky, accompanied by the distinctive red dot of Mars.

Reference:

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

Part 31 – What Did That Even Mean?

“The urge to destroy is also a creative urge” (Bakunin)

Trumpzilla

The blog-posting was much less stressful Monday morning, leaving the afternoon clear to start work on the next instalment of the journal. However, my eyes went funny so I had to stop. I took the rubbish out to be hit in the face by a straggly branch near the door. I lopped at the offending shrub in the planter, as professionals cleared a garden across the street. We exchanged hellos and sightings of the pheasant that lived there. They invited me to put my cuttings in their waste bags which was nice. In the evening, I felt a bit iffy and very tired, possibly due to the overwhelming amount of news.

Useless Therese Coffey was wheeled out on BBC Breakfast to defend the TIT Excel spreadsheet debacle, spouting the usual party line. With the mislaid cases added, Manchester had the highest rate, followed by Liverpool, with Newcastle, Notts and Leeds close behind. An estimated 48,000 missed contacts could be spreading the virus. Labelled ‘more than shambolic’ by Jon Ashworth, even Matt Cock couldn’t come up with an excuse. MP Mrs. Green asked why Dildo still had a job. Paris bars were shut and Wales considered quarantine for holidaymakers from English ‘hotspots’. 27 animals at risk from Covid were named. “Poor things! They should be shielded!” I quipped.

Having previously assured backbenchers there wouldn’t be a tax hike, Rishi Rich hinted there might be, to pay for the Covid response. Speaking at the Tory Conference, he made no apology for the meal deal as it saved jobs, fomenting speculation on a spat between him and Boris. In his speech the next day, The Bumbler denied any rift, saying Rishi was doing a grand job. He wittered about ‘lefty human rights lawyers’…who ‘hamstrung’ the legal system. Lawyers were rightly appalled at his apparent disregard for a fair system. Angela Rayner called his talk of building a ‘new Jerusalem’, investment in windfarms and ports in The North and funding care through the ‘magic of averages’ (whatever the hell that meant) “the usual bluster”. To increase home-ownership, rather than build more affordable homes, he ridiculously planned to force banks to offer 95% mortgages.

Trump was discharged from hospital, causing alarm, appearing on the White House balcony and pointedly removing his mask as aides milled about in the background. He urged Americans to not “fear the virus”, claimed flu was more deadly, and Covid-19 could be treated with ‘great drugs’ which all US citizens would have as: “it’s not your fault; it’s China’s fault”. Facebook removed his posts as misleading. Twitter said while against policy, they’d left tweets up for ‘the public good.’ What did that even mean? Later in the week, his twittering went ballistic, even for him. some speculated he’d gone insane with all the steroids no doubt compounded by the oxygen he’d been pumped with. Or maybe it was the unlicensed antiviral Regeneron (also catchily named REGN/COV-2) – shares in the drug company sky-rocketed). Insisting he was no longer infectious, he refused to take part in a second election debate online. We played around with cartoon names such as Trumpzilla and The Incredible Trump, later discovering they were already long-running jokes in the states.

Tuesday I still felt iffy and considered a day in bed. Deciding against it, I made a big effort to get up, did a spot of housework and writing before going to the co-op. My specs completely steamed up meaning I could hardly see to pay at the kiosk. I made a quick exit via the back door to immediately remove the stupid mask. Sorting groceries, one of the bags touched my face which led to an interminable cycle of hand-cleansing between food-handling until I remembered to wash my face with clean hands. As I huffed and puffed, Phil said I should have dumped the bags for him to sort later. “But I had to wash my face anyway. Not that we even know if any of it does any good. But we can’t stop now, that would be asking for trouble!”

On the day Johnny Nash of ‘I Can See Clearly Now’ fame and Eddie Van Halen died, Rishi Rich suggested musicians should re-train, showing no recognition of the contribution the creative industry made to the economy let alone any understanding of it being a compulsion, if not an obsession, to create – you couldn’t just turn it off and go work in Tesco! On Newsnight, Roisin Murphy said she was scared her kids would disappear into the matrix, now that everything was on VR.

In the face of a massive jump in hospital cases, Judith Coffee-cup of Leeds, along with leaders of Liverpool, Manchester and Newcastle, wrote a letter to the government. The Northern city leaders called the curfew ‘counter-productive’, asked for more powers to stop the surge in their regions such as punishing flouters, local decision-making on extra measures and local control of TIT.

Seeing Red

Odd dreams, including premonitions of an upcoming walk, disturbed my sleep. What did that mean? Midweek sunshine broke through the cloud cover of the previous two days. We planned to leave the house straight after coffee, but as whole chunks of the journal still to edit, it was 1 o’clock before I knew it. Phil was similarly occupied on his computer. So much for going out early! And we hadn’t even watched PMQs. Apparently, Kier asked Boris why Tory constituencies were let off regional restrictions and for an explanation of the scientific basis for the pub curfew (perhaps anticipating a divergence of policy next week).

We had a quick lunch before setting off arguably the quickest way to the single track road we’d visited in June, wishing to explore further. The mellowing tones of amber and green leaves scattered prettily on the ground, prompted us to amuse each other with improvised short-form poetry, unworthy of a wider audience. The road ended in a cul-de-sac, forcing us onto a slippery downward path. Arriving at the water’s edge, I dithered as the only way to cross was by stepping-stones. A gap between stones, a lump of people gathered on the opposite bank and a woman incessantly chucking a ball in the water for her dog to retrieve, created high anxiety. As Phil repeatedly asked why I couldn’t cross, I had a full-on panic attack and froze to the spot. The woman and dog moved on. The way clear, I considered braving the torrent when my walking boots sprung a leak – so that was that. We retreated to a wide patch of wet grass, moisture seeping between my toes, to squat on a convenient square stone and recover from the ordeal before going back the way we’d come. On the return, we agreed the route was indeed quicker than via the riverside. But there was the issue of the stepping stones. I then remembered my walking friend mentioning this yonks ago. (for a fuller description of the walk, see ‘Hey Ho! on Cool Places ).

Too late for a siesta, I flopped wearily on the sofa with coffee and biscuits and watched the news. Sturgeon announced that From Friday, indoor alcohol sales would be banned, coupled with a request to not use public transport across the central belt of Scotland. Prof Semple of sage said a national ‘circuit breaker’ was also needed in England to halt the plague. I later discovered the paper had been written a couple of weeks back but got little coverage. Roche admitted supply chain issues of vital testing materials and Greene King planned to shed 800 jobs.

Achy and tired, we both struggled Thursday morning. I soon got fed up with cleaning and switched to writing. Needing an item I’d forgotten at the chemist last week, I went to town after lunch. I was glad I hadn’t rushed to get to the market earlier. Absent stalls meant essentials were in short supply.

Speculation on the 3 tier system muted the idea of ‘traffic lights’. It seemed likely that Liverpool, Manchester and Newcastle would be in the red zone from next Wednesday, following an announcement on Monday and subsequent Commons votes. Ministers held a conference with Northern MPs but still hadn’t consulted local leaders. On Question Time, Manchester mayor Andy Burnman looked likely to burst a blood vessel as he said it was “Impossible to work with this government.”

Friday morning,I promoted my 2021 calendar and made a sale. Heading out for weekend supplies, large highway maintenance trucks blocked the street. The co-op was busy when I entered. I practiced my breathing to prevent seeing red. The queue had died down when I got to the till, with only a woman from down the road ahead of me. We spoke about the vehicle blockage: “what are they doing? “I asked and they said ‘roadworks’. She replied. She then blathered on about the mill development and recalled when they’d done the last one, the lower level was meant to be parking but had changed to what she referred to as ‘bed-sits’. “Well, they do have a mezzanine.” I said. She continued to berate the powers that be, and decried the Coronavirus laws as illegal. She was right but I wished I’d never started! I’d hardly bagged up the shopping when the cashier requested payment. “Sorry. I’m normally very fast, as you know.” The purchases (which included the ‘freezer filler’ deal), were too much for me to carry. I looked around for Phil who was meant to come and help. Where the hell was he? I moved near the main door and rang him. I could tell he was still sat on the sofa. “Oops! 2 minutes!” Back home, we discovered a new technique of me holding packaging while he grabbed the food out with clean hands.

Covid-19 cases doubled in a week. A React study found the virus was spreading twice as fast in the North West, Yorkshire and the West Midlands compared to England as a whole. As TIT reached a record low just when cases hit a high, 1,600 students at Newcastle and Northumbria Universities tested positive and a post-box in Nottingham was clogged with home testing kits. Sky news reported the TIT app had only alerted 1 person to transmission within a venue (aka ‘common exposure setting’). Either there was none in pubs or, more likely, the app was crap. Hospital waiting lists also reached a peak. Alarmingly, Calderdale Hospital urged us not to go to A&E unless we were dying. Should we be worried?

The Bumbler probably thought the appointment of Allegra Stratton as his spokesperson to ‘communicate with the nation’ via press briefings would be very presidential, but it smacked more of 1984. Rishi Rich announced expansion of the Job Support Scheme. Dubbed furlough mark 2, two thirds of wages of those in sectors affected by additional restrictions (i.e., hospitality and entertainment), would be paid by The Treasury. Edinburgh Woollen Mill, also owners of Peacock’s and Jaeger (an odd combo), went into administration.

It rained all night and was still chucking it down on a cold Saturday morning. For once, we hadn’t drunk too much or gone to bed too late for a Friday, but I still didn’t have enough sleep. Phil couldn’t move his mouth as he’d slept on his jaw. I made sure he hadn’t had a stroke, just be sure, and suggested he might need to use his mouth-guard after several years without. I stayed in doing boring stuff round the house and a bit of writing. Glancing out the window, I spotted the shed people going out at 2, she all dolled up in a tiny skirt and no tights . ‘Well,’ I thought ‘they need to start early to get their 8 hours drinking in before curfew’. Phil went to buy beer and reported seeing a dead rat on the way out. Kids playing in the street bizarrely didn’t know what it was. I fetched a shovel to move it. Expecting to be grossed out, I actually found it rather pretty. Unlike ones we used to see in London underground, all black and straggly, this one had clean light fur and excellent teeth. What at first looked like its guts spilling out, turned out be a leaf in seasonal hues of green and brown. A cat stalked near the garden. I chased it off but as my back was turned to bury the rodent near the far wall, the moggy tried to sneak through the open front door. I approached it aggressively, shouting: “Piss off, rat killer!” When Phil go back with the booze, we discussed why people were scared of rats. Okay, they did carry the plague in the olden days but otherwise, they were a crucial part of the ecosystem. Although we hardly ever saw them, they surrounded us. We’d probably be overrun by worse vermin otherwise. Evening film viewing was disturbed by people on the street below. Sat round a brazier in the middle of street, they watched a massive telly. Music blared in an indiscernible language translated via subtitles. Were they showing off with some posh opera?

Frazzled

Sunday, Phil didn’t comment on a dazzlingly bright start until I did. “Did you clean the windows?” “Of course not. It’s the sun!” Making brekkie, the bacon frazzled so fast I became frazzled myself. We escaped outdoors. The stunning autumn colours sizzled in the light as we walked down the main road, busy with walkers and cars, and turned up towards a wood we’d not visited for some time. Previously approached from the top, we were unsure of the best way and hiked up a bank. Noting extremely overgrown tiny steps, we turned up the next track before it got stupidly steep to wind up through woodland. We almost walked into a private garden then saw a yellow arrow signifying the public path.

Very muddy where springs sprung from adjacent meadows, I found a stick to help me cross safely. Heading back down, we rested on a memorial bench. Enjoying views across the valley, we exchanged cheery greetings with a woman we knew passing by with her daughter. “She’s grown.” Said Phil. “That’s because we haven’t seen them for ages.” On the home stretch, a woman stopped to enquire if it was me who wrote the walking article in Valley Life. “It’s really good!” She enthused. So far, positive feedback had mainly been from friends and acquaintances. Praise from a total stranger , on the day the latest edition hit doormats, made me fizz with happiness!

Inevitably hungry and tired from the walk, we ate a calorific lunch and watched telly.

Trump again raised concern with a rally at the White House. Although only a few hundred attended, they were tightly packed. The event was viewed as grossly irresponsible; the last one proved to be a ‘super-spreader’ event leading to many cases, including Trump himself, and this was the first of several planned for the week. The President’s medic insisted he was no longer infectious. Was Regeneron a true wonder drug, responsible for regeneration of The Trump? That might be why it would be rolled out in UK hospital trials. Meanwhile, Exeter university were set to trial the BCG vaccine. Developed in 1921 for TB and since used globally, it might afford some protection against coronavirus, acting as a bridge before specific vaccines were proven.

On the Westminster front, Local Government Minister Rob Jenrick told Andrew Marr that local leaders were being consulted before the announcement on the three tiers, with additional measures being “co-designed with Mayors.” What did that even mean?

While cricket and raves occurred on the streets of London, The Cock sparked outrage ordering a round in the commons bar, reportedly after the 10 p.m. curfew: “The drinks are on me… but Public Health England are in charge of the payment methodology so I will not be paying anything.”

In the evening, I edited the photos I’d taken. Backing up proved slow and I assumed it was due to crap OneDrive. Much later, Phil suddenly declared the internet ‘rubbish’, turned the router off and on again and randomly started tidying the sideboard. “Do you have to do that now?” I complained angrily. Thus ending the day newly frazzled. For the second Sunday night running, I needed the meditation tape to get to sleep, in spite of extreme fatigue.

References:

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

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

Part 30 – Stormy Weather

Choppy Waters

Even tempers and co-operation persisted into the last days of September. As usual, blog posting and chores took most of Monday morning. In the afternoon, Phil composed restful tunes on his ipad. They made me sleepy but this didn’t mean the siesta was any better, thanks to untuneful noisy workmen outside.

Reports of weekend mayhem caused by the 10.00 p.m. pub curfew were greatly exaggerated as young people milled about in the street. What did they expect? Calls for the policy to be abandoned fell on deaf ears. New restrictions made it illegal to meet indoors from Wednesday in the North East, punishable with fines. Scottish students were now allowed to go home as long as they stayed there.

Tuesday morning fog lingered in the valley bottom. Clouds visibly floated off above the hills, to reveal the sun. BBC Breakfast weather featured a posh stately home, where flowers from the estate were donated to a food bank. We couldn’t see the residents of the council estate down the road jumping for joy. To paraphrase Marie Antionette: “let them eat flowers! In the kitchen, I was overwhelmed by grease and left the cleaning half done to work on the journal and ring the printers, ensuring it was okay to collect the calendars. My phone mysteriously had no signal requiring use of the land-line. Phil later used his ‘phone whispering’ skills to get it working again but said “It’s gone a bit flaky hasn’t it?” Guiltily hiding my face in my hands, I agreed. “I might have to ask Father Christmas for a new one.” (i.e., Phil).

I took the shopping trolley to town, faffed with hand-gel and face-mask outside the printers saw a TIT QR poster for the first time and decided it didn’t apply to me. Calendars weighing heavy in the trolley, I wheeled round to Boots. As I waited to enter behind a woman, a pair of schoolgirls brazenly barged past us both. When they came out, I said: “next time you go in a shop, check there isn’t a queue, will you?” I tipped the contents of two needless delivery boxes into the trolley. Now too heavy to lift up steps, I took the long route home, greeting an old friend on the way. Exhausted, I collapsed on the sofa listening to another of Phil’s plinky ipad tunes. Again, it made my eyes close but when I went up for a lie down, I failed to relax.

Boris claimed he ‘misspoke’ concerning the regional measures in the North East, causing confusion over beer gardens and the ‘Rule of Six’. Angela Rayner called him ‘incompetent’ as he didn’t even understand his own rules! Amidst chaos on campus, Gavin Salesman finally spoke to say English students could go home for Christmas but might have to self-isolate for a fortnight. A rave at Coventry University was condemned but I couldn’t help sympathising – what an awful time to be a teenager!

It was an eventful Wednesday in Westminster. The Speaker of the House stated the PM had contempt for the commons in passing Coronavirus Laws without consultation, let alone votes. But he stopped short of allowing the Tory backbenchers’ amendment to be debated due to a lack of time, danger of more confusion and ‘undermining the rule of law’. The Cock conceded to allow MPs a vote before further changes were introduced ‘where possible’. At PMQ’s Keir criticised Rishi for calling jobs affected by the pandemic ‘unviable’. In the 100^th plague briefing, Boris was flanked by his pet scientists who spoke of an ‘uptick’ in new cases among young and older people, including hospitalisation and intensive care. Rises of 15% in the North East and North West, were the biggest. Why was the former undergoing stricter curbs on freedom than the latter? And of course, no added restrictions at all in the South, below what Phil called ‘The Waitrose Line’. The Bumbler bragged about numbers of tests, Nightingale bed capacity, ventilators and PPE (the majority now sourced within the UK which was something). He said ‘more costly’ restrictions would come if the escalation continued, but insisted a second national lockdown wasn’t planned. TSB planned the loss of 900 staff and 164 branches due to ‘remodelling’

The most exciting event of my day was inventing a new dinner. After the stupid amount of shopping last week, I was determined to make do with what was in cupboards. The improvised lentil and bulgur wheat gratin, inspired by Ye Olde Bean Book, was very tasty if I say so myself.

On Thursday, we stocked up on the groceries. Thanks to the re-vamped co-op app, I got a free bar of yummy chocolate! Back home, we sorted the purchases, Phil declared: “job done, with blistering efficiency!” and went to sit down, only for me to discover several items left in rucksacks. Efficient my arse! At least he was still being helpful.

As I rested in the afternoon, it was quiet outside for once but attempts to relax were stymied by my mind churning with random crap, including scenes from the book I was reading. Set in Germany after the war, flashbacks to horrors of Nazism were deeply affecting. Not the positive forward-looking story I’d expected, but still good.ⁱⁱ

In the evening, Phil randomly presented me with a large smelly candle acquired during his recent visit to Leeds. A gift from a woman who lived in a tent, it sparked discussion on a possible project for him to document the city’s homeless during the plague. I thought it might be of interest to local libraries, museums or possibly The Big Issue.

Making Waves

As the government refused demands to withdraw provisions that undermined key elements of the Brexit Withdrawal Agreement from the Internal Markets Bill, the EU started legal proceedings. Nasty Patel apparently instructed civil servants to research madcap schemes for deterring migrants travelling from Europe. Preposterous ideas included a wave machine to propel dinghies from UK shores (not new) and a floating wall (similar schemes in Greece were lambasted by Amnesty International for risking lives). Migrant centres were considered on disused ferries, oil rigs, the Isle of Man, Isle of Wight, ‘small Scottish islands’ and Ascension Island 4,00 miles away. Why not Kent? Then it really would be Children of Men!

Our elected representatives were caught flouting the rules again. The bumbler’s dad escaped sanctions for shopping without a mask, but Jeremy Corbyn was fined for going to a dinner party with more than 6 guests. MP Margaret Farrier took the biscuit. She felt ill on Saturday, had a Covid test, felt better, took the train to Westminster Monday to talk about Covid, got a positive test result, and went back to Scotland by train! Amid calls for her to stand down, The Speaker was ‘very angry’ and the SNP withdrew the whip.

The North West underwent the same additional measures as the North East where Hartlepool and Middlesbrough were added. In the face of lack of consultation with local authorities (counter to Matt Cock’s claims), the mayor said they’d gone too far: “we defy the government.” This sounded like he wouldn’t enforce the local lockdown but when interviewed on Newscast he said he would follow the law. As areas of North Wales were added to the growing list, up to a third of the UK population were now under tighter restrictions. Another raft of tiers was muted, with a formal announcement due in a week or so. ‘Just shut the pubs, dammit!’ I screamed at the telly. It was as if they’d do anything apart from the obvious!

A cold, windy Friday with some rain, suggested Storm Alex arrived early. Glad the shopping was done, I spent the morning writing up walks for my Cool Places blogⁱⁱⁱ. In the afternoon, we braved the storm to visit the Open Studios preview in the Town Hall (postponed from July, it would be on-line next weekend). A couple of good works amongst the sample pieces, there were also some horrors. As we knew quite a few of the artists, it prompted a discussion about peer group validation. For example, a good photographer switching to painting (mediocre at best) being told the art was great. Walking through the square, the weekly flea market (which I usually forgot about) was packing up. I scooted round and haggled to knock down the price of a pot (a potential gift). Meanwhile, Phil spent ages at a camera stall and bought a Nikon lens – apparently all interchangeable since 1959; gotta love the Japanese long-term thinking! The friendly and knowledgeable stallholder told us his dad had a shop in Nelson until he retired early this year, hence the great selection of models. As Phil spotted a possible Christmas present, I said I’d be back.

A Lull in the Storm

Saturday, the weather was even more horrid with persistent rain. We stayed in all day, and I continued writing for Cool Places. In a rare appearance on Andrew Marr Sunday morning, The Bumbler mainly spluttered the usual waffle. He admitted the August meal deal was partly responsible for a surge in cases and said the curfew made no sense if people were then ‘hobnobbing’ in the street at pub chuck out time. You said it, you idiot!

While Storm Alex caused flooding in South East England, Italy and France, the rain stopped in the valley, giving way to sunny spells. slightly annoyed at lack of help with weekend cooking, I silently fumed over brekkie and took my coffee to drink in front of the telly. I then heard Phil wash up and take a pile of recycling out – the silent treatment seemed effective! In the afternoon, we had a short walk to the nearest clough. A small bulldog looked at us expectantly. The owner said he’d spotted the camera. Laughing, I called it “Insta -dog!” We indulged the attention-seeking animal with portrait shots and asked the owner: “does he have a Facebook page?” “No, but he should!” In the clough, the brook had widened, flooding the islands. Better there than town, I thought. We took the top path to a stone bridge, arresting in early autumn colours.

Resting briefly on a memorial bench, we discussed replacing those lower down, often deluged. “I’m sure they’d welcome a donation.” I suggested, to which Phil replied: “I’m not dead yet.” (For more details see Cool Placesⁱⁱⁱ)

Although a short spell outdoors, it made us really tired. I went to bed early that night but needed the meditation tape to drop off.

5 welders went to work on the Isle of Man, stopped at Tesco for a spot of lunch and got imprisoned for breaching quarantine. When released, they would be sent straight back to England and banned from the isle for life. Harsh! As the latest James Bond movie was postponed again, Cineworld announced ‘temporary’ closures, without informing staff.

It had emerged on Friday that Trump had Covid, later being pumped with Remdesivir in hospital. Over the weekend, it was revealed he’d also received ventilation and dexamethasone, normally used on patients who’d been ill at least a week, with low oxygen levels. Amidst speculation the severity of his illness was downplayed, he rose from his hospital bed for a drive-by past adoring fans, thus putting countless more people at risk! (It later transpired he’d been given the experimental drug Regeneron).

Over here, it turned out that Covid-19 cases were under-reported from 25^th September to 2^nd October. 15,841 test results hadn’t been input on an Excel spreadsheet. Thus TIT didn’t happen. The ‘technical glitch’ was in fact caused by PHE using the file extension .xls. Dating from 1987 and superseded by .xlsx in 2007, it had a limit of 64,000 lines of data, as any techy worth their salt would know. Phil pointed out it was “so old, Bill Gates wrote the code!”

References:

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

ii. The Women in the Castle, by Jessica Shattuck

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

Part 29 – Rule of Six Months

A Brief Interlude

A foggy start heralded the last full day before the equinox. A series of irritations hampered Monday morning. As I carried the tray down, my phone slid off and clattered to the bottom of the stairs. It powered down but restarted fine – another suicide attempt thwarted! Computer issues made blogging slow. The sidebar on WordPress disappeared and I couldn’t work out how to add tags. Then something strange happened to my word files. Initially thinking they’d been corrupted and I’d lost loads of work, I realised it was due to the ‘track changes’ feature which I’d turned on by accident and seemed unable to turn off. Angry and frustrated, I cut and pasted the journal text onto the webpage a paragraph at a time. Highlights remained so I had to re-type whole chunks making me madder. Seeing me fume, Phil offered to help but by then it was lunchtime and I refused to do anything before food. Refreshed after the break, I suddenly realised unaided how to retrieve the sidebar.

Phil required the shop and I said I’d go with him, when the chores, postponed from the morning, were finished. He said he’d lend a hand but as I hung washing up and put rubbish out, he remained on the sofa, before making a sudden dash outside. Irate, I pointed out he’d not lifted a finger while I did the jobs unaided. He apologised adding: “I’ve had a frustrating morning too, getting nowhere.” Hoping an outdoor spell would be a stress-free interlude, we walked into the town, busy as always (including the pubs). Metal barriers blocked the marketplace. Was it to stop people loitering and mixing? We Snuck through and noted the resemblance of the empty stalls to sunbeds strategically lined up on the beach to soak up the sunlight. Errands over, we felt thirsty in the heat and headed to the Med café for refreshments. The lovely late summer atmosphere was interrupted by a swearing drunk berating patrons. The sturdy café lady dealt with the incident with practiced efficiency. Back home, Phil sorted groceries while I remained outdoors to clean up garden waste. He came back out to assist as our decorating neighbour parked up, chatting about lack of space and the inevitable additional issues that would ensue from the old mill development.

The restored calm was soon disrupted. Phil had acquired a new gig-economy job, working for an AI. “I’m frightened. You’re working for Skynet.” I’d said when he told me about it. Laughing, he said it only entailed taking photos of everyday objects for the robot to learn. Early evening, he said he needed my laptop. “How long for?” “One minute.” He then proceeded to move it onto the floor in front of the TV, messing up the signal, in order to take photos of it for his AI boss. As I complained, he exclaimed: “does everything have to be a big stress?” “Yes!” I retorted “I don’t feel good.” This was in fact true; I’d developed a headache and a pain extended from my jawbone up to my ear due to stress. Overcome with frustration on a particularly bad Monday, I retreated upstairs to be alone and have a good cry. I then felt better, but exhausted and flat. An evening of comedy viewing cheered me somewhat, but more irritation was to come…

In a pre-amble to a cobra meeting and pronouncements by Boris the next day, Witless and Valance presented a ‘worst case scenario’ with coronavirus infections reaching 50k per day by mid-October and 200 deaths a day by mid-November. Looking at the graphs Phil said “on that trajectory, everybody will be dead by 1^st November.” The Sage bods outlined priorities for vaccinations ( possibly by the end of the year; early next year more likely). Care homes and the NHS would be first in the queue. In parliament, Cock presented a bewildering list of 6 priorities for testing: 1. Acute clinical need. 2. Care staff. 3. NHS staff. 4. (for) ‘outbreak management and surveillance studies.’ 5. Teachers. 6. Public with symptoms. Bridgend, Merthyr Tydfil, Newport and Blaenau Gwent were added to the Welsh list of areas with local measures.

The Blame Game

Tuesday began badly. As I opened the curtain, it immediately landed on my head. Hearing me fume at the felled curtain pole, Phil said “Well done.” Angry at the injustice of being automatically blamed for the incident, let alone a lack of sympathy for the potential head injury, I shut myself in the bathroom to have a rant. Regaining composure, I understood his irritation at the prospect of emergency DIY (I’d no hope of sleep with uncovered windows) and made efforts to stay calm the rest of the day.

As I edited photos, he wanted to turn the slow internet off and on again. I bit my lip and copied the photos from the cloud onto the computer desktop. Unbidden tears sprang to my eyes. Phil asked “What’s up?” I vented my frustration. It looked lovely outside again but instead of going out, we had to fix the bloody curtains. “ And why does it always have to be a blame game?” He apologised for blaming me and said he’d fix it so we could go for a walk. When the job was done, the sky turned dark and cold, right at the time of the equinox. Phil became drowsy and his back itched. I scratched it for him. Noticing it hot to the touch. “It’s either Covid or insect bites!” Plans to go walking shelved, I aimed to do yoga but only managed 5 minutes stretching.

The Cobra meeting entailed arguments in government of health vs. economy leading to an overwhelming plethora of shambolic half-baked measures for England, amid warnings the tighter restrictions could last up to 6 months. From Monday, weddings would be capped at 15, indoor sports were no longer exempt from the ‘Rule of Six’, and plans for conferences and sports events to re-start from 1^st October were shelved. Masks became mandatory for shop workers, occupants of taxis and pubs (if unseated). People were encouraged to work from home and Covid-secure guidelines became law for hospitality, leisure and tourism, with the risk of fines or closure. A 10.00 p.m. curfew for pubs, restaurants and take-aways would start Thursday meaning no kebab after a pint . Only the other day ministers claimed transmission occurred in private homes, not pubs and workplaces! Mr. Kill of the Night-time Trade Body predicted “a surge of unregulated events and house parties…real hot-beds of infection, attended by frustrated young people denied access to safe and legitimate…venues.” Whitbread shed 6,000 roles, with more job losses to come..

In The Bumbler’s address to the nation, he again blamed the public for not sticking to the rules, and referenced his pet boffins’ graphs calling it the ‘Iron law of geometric progression’ – utter rubbish, as already pointed out by Phil. In the face of Prof. Guppy-Fish saying we should protect the vulnerable rather than have blanket restrictions, adding grist to the mill for the likes of sociopath Peter Hitchin, I reluctantly agreed with the PM’s his arguments against locking them up (old people, not sociopaths!) Plans to put the army on stand-by to backfill police roles prompted arguments about martial law. And the whole mess prompted renewed panic-buying of bog roll.

Wednesday I awoke in the gloom thinking it was still night. Dismal grey skies and incessant showers persisted all day, befitting the first official full day of autumn. Phil made redbush tea for breakfast, adamant he’d got the teabags from the right jar. As I vacuumed the living room, I had to stop as I developed a headache due to a lack of caffeine. Revived by coffee, we watched PMQs. Attention was drawn to Glove-puppet blaming hauliers’ lack of preparation for a no-deal Brexit and the suggestion of a permit to enter Kent, in effect an internal border, branded ‘Kexit’. Oh, the irony of the Brexiteer enclave effectively having a border with the rest of the UK! Did someone say Children of Men? They only needed to build a refugee-holding camp and we’d be there! Insisting it was only one of a ‘raft’ of measures didn’t conjure up encouraging images (we’d need several rafts soon to escape Brexit Island!)

On the day marking 6 months since the start of national lockdown, Prof Openshaw (no relation) of Imperial College and Nervtag* said a ban on households mixing must come soon. A Number 10 ‘spokesman’ responded that scientists stood on both sides of the argument. Other profs came out to lambast Boris’ ‘blame game’: the public’s fault for requesting tests, irresponsible young people’s fault for not following the rules, ergo bigger fines. A ‘mantra of fear’ and threats of enforcement dominated rather than a supportive approach. Hot on the heels of his ‘I’m not Jeremy’ speech, Keir responded to The Bumbler’s address, saying another total lockdown was not inevitable if TIT was sorted. He berated the government’s lack of plans for care homes or the economy (with nothing to protect jobs, businesses or the high street and nothing to replace furlough).

Madness In The Method

On a dull, wet Thursday Phil lightened the load of chores, taking washing down to the machine and fetching the hoover. While cleaning the bedroom, I found a small screw between the floorboards. He agreed it could be the cause of the curtain pole collapse, thus I was vindicated! After a coffee break, I set off for the market. On the way out, the young family were loading the car with luggage as Gran stood in the doorway. I waved hello to our pub mate. At the fish van, only 1 person was ahead of me, but I resigned myself to a long wait as she brandished several lists. Having fulfilled the first, she then requested monkfish. They had none. She loudly proclaimed that she’d ring the person she was buying for and let me get to the counter. Very gracious! Chatty man was back on the cheap veg. stall. As he conversed with the tuk-tuk man opposite, I joined in the discussion on first films seen without an adult and under-age drinking (allowed in private clubs if you were with a parent back then). Phil loitered at the top of the square as arranged to help with more toting. Back on our street, we were delayed by a woman who’d gone down the wrong one turning round; she in turn hampered by a cat sat in the middle of the road. Gran and family were still loading their car. “Are you going somewhere?” “Camping in the Lake District.” Adding: “I know!” as she raised her eyes to the grey clouds. Smiling wryly, I said: “I hope you don’t get chucked off due to local lockdowns like in Pontypridd.” (The town where 500 holiday-makers were turfed off a caravan park with the onset of Welsh lockdowns and incidentally close to the place Gran hailed from).

Market purchases required lots of sorting and washing before lunch. I spent the afternoon on the first write-up on the Southport trip for ‘Cool Places 2’ⁱⁱ. Recurring internet issues prevented me uploading the blog until the evening. Hearing the drum circle again, I deduced it now took place over 2 nights to adhere to social distancing, or the ‘Rule of Six’ if it applied. Was it still allowed? Did it count as education and training and thus exempt?

As the anticipated TIT app was launched, the Bluetooth method used to contact-trace only worked on newer operating systems prompting complaints from owners of phones over 5 years old. Unlike the Dildo-run system, self-isolation was voluntary. As predicted, the return of university students led to surges in cases. 124 students were infected at Glasgow, 600 isolated, told not go to the pub or back home. One young person pointedly asked what was the point of doing as told, returning to uni for 4 hours face-to-face teaching a week, confined the rest of time, when they could have round the clock contact with their family if they’d stayed at home? Matt Cock was accused of violating human rights, refusing to rule out forbidding students going home at Christmas. Who would stop them?

In the face of criticism from the opposition for cancelling the Autumn budget and hitherto silent, Rishi Rich presented a ‘Winter Economic Plan’. VAT for hospitality and tourism would stay low until the end of March 2021. A Job Support Scheme would replace furlough, topping up salaries of workers in ‘viable jobs’ (whatever that meant) who could only return part-time. They’d need to work at least a third of their normal hours, with another third of their salary split between the employer and the treasury; still losing 22%. Mathematicians struggled to explain the maddening system. Would total pay equate to 2 thirds or 3 quarters? I subsequently found a simpleton pie chart that clarified the issue. Help for the self-employed was also extended, but still excluded chunks of the gig economy. The IFS predicted ‘sharply rising unemployment’.

Stark Contrasts

Trees swayed across the valley in Friday brightness, indicating a stiff breeze. Morning ablutions took an inordinately long time leading to a concertinaed morning. On the way back from the co-op a posh hippie woman straddled the street below, small child and dog in tow. The local celebrity poet arrived for a nice chat, oblivious to me waiting to get past, laden with heavy shopping. She said it would be good to put a gate up so she could leave the kid to play out. ‘Yeah. Install a gate just for you,’ I thought.

Back home, I headed straight for the bathroom to wash my hands, still in my outdoor shoes, thus breaking one of my own rules! Shocked again by how long the shopping had taken, I wondered what on earth was happening to the day – was I in a time-warp?

The rise in cases now equated to 60% in a week, thus more than the doubling predicted by the sage bods. Mainly in the 18-24 age group, hospitalisation remained relatively low. The North/South divide became more stark with local lockdowns for Leeds and Blackpool while London got increased testing capacity in the face of surging cases. Cardiff, Swansea and Llanelli were added to the list of Welsh lockdowns.

Saturday had a dazzling start but quickly turned cold and grey. Remaining indoors, Phil cut his hair while I completed blogs for Cool Places 2 and wrestled with the logistical nightmare created by the Ocado delivery, with stuff still quarantined from the Thursday market and Friday co-op trips.

15,000 turned up in Trafalgar Square for the ‘we do not consent’ rally. Demonstrators and police were injured by flying bottles as the Met broke up the demo due to a breach of risk assessment conditions for rallies, and lack of social distancing. Oh, the irony!

The Sunday brightness remained all day. Taking a familiar walk to a favourite clough, dark shadows lay stark on vivid astro-turf in a deserted play-park. A large family group with bounding dogs straddled ahead of us, forcing us to slow our pace on the main track. At the old mill site, a veritable forest of wild carrots and fungi thrived in the shade of the chimney. Further up, men waded in the stream while one selected stones to place in his rucksack, making us wonder about the purpose. At the top of the clough, a small family occupied the glade. We waited near the bridge in the brilliance of a sunny patch before perching on rocks. As another couple arrived to hang round by the bridge, we gave way in turn and ascended to the top causeway. The less-travelled track was so overgrown, the causey stones had all but disappeared underfoot. Towards home, Phil headed for the shop. I started to follow then changed my mind. After several minutes, I wondered where’d he’d got to until I remembered the co-op shut early on Sunday so he’d had to go into town. Although beautiful, the afternoon out left me exhausted with back ache and grumpiness. Hoping the fresh air would induce a good night’s sleep, I had a daft dream resembling an inconsequential drama. In one of several waking spells, I tried to formulate it into a script but declared it too mad.

Note:

*New and Emerging Respiratory Virus Threats Advisory Group.

References:

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

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

The Corvus Diaries

A Journal of the Coronavirus

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