“Hate will never win. To all the young people who have received similar abuse, hold your heads up high and keep chasing the dream” (Jadon Sancho)
The ‘P’ of the Ping
A miserable Monday started badly for both of us and got no better. Totally unrested, I struggled through the tedious chores and blog-posting. Sleepy at siesta time, I hoped to drop off but sadly not. Making coffee, the kettle sounded strange then went ballistic, shooting up boiling water geyser-like. Screaming in panic, I calmed down enough to mop up and noted the spill was oddly foamy suggesting something in the tap. I swilled the kettle out several times after which it behaved normally. Phil came up with alternative theories such as the lid not being shut properly and admitted to a similar experience some mornings, quickly adding “don’t tell me off.” As a joke, I started to say I might (as it solved a mystery of why there was often a puddle next to the sink). He stormed off. It was my turn to boil over. Almost in tears at stuff going wrong, a tiff ensued. I took deep breaths and kept my mouth shut, even when he tried to elicit a response from me. To make amends, he cleaned my ipad, washed up and helped with dinner. Almost falling asleep again, I resisted the urge to go to bed until the usual time. Thankfully, I had a pretty good night.
The 4 key tests met (vaccine rollout, reduction in hospital admissions and deaths, infection rates not risking a surge and no new variants – yet), parliament rubber-stamped 19th July as ‘Freedom Day’. Goblin Saj repeated if not now, when? Legal restrictions were replaced by guidance on action expected from firms and the public to limit virus spread: covid passes, masks in crowded areas and public transport, and a gradual return to offices. Rates still rising, 200 deaths and 2,000 hospitalisations a day were predicted over summer. The BMA called it ‘irresponsible’. Keir repeated the plan was reckless: “we need a safe way of coming through this.” Take-up of first jabs dropped and massive queues formed at Heathrow terminal 5 as 100 staff were pinged and self-isolated. Raining since the night before, a deluge in London led to flash-flooding. Anita Dobson distraught at ruined memorabilia in the cellar, Brian May raged at the council and selfish neighbours who burrowed under houses, disrupting sewers. Might they take flooding seriously now the capital was affected?
Fall-out from Euro 2020 continued. Officially 65,000 at Wembley for the final, including VIPs who’d obviously not been required to quarantine, much trouble ensued. Ticket-less fans forced their way in, fights broke out and disturbingly, the missed penalties led to online racist abuse of Rashford, Sancho and Saka. The Bumbler called it appalling. Keir said his words rang hollow as he failed to show leadership and called for The Online Safety Bill to be brought forward. Allegedly scheduled before the recent abuse of footballers, Boris would host a meeting of social media firms to urge tougher action on racism, during which he was forced to reiterate condemnation of booing and abuse. A mural of Marcus Rashford defaced, stars came out in support including David Beckham and a tweet from Tyrone Ming went viral: “you don’t get to stoke the fire at the beginning of the tournament by labelling our anti-racism message as ‘Gesture Politics’ & then pretend to be disgusted when the very thing we’re campaigning against, happens.” Newsnight replayed a prophetic clip of John Barnes saying black players were popular when they won, abused when they lost. It was interesting how politically important footballers had become.
Tuesday began much better but I almost had a coronary when a top-up shop in the co-op cost a whopping £24. Mind you, I did scavenge the reduced section and return home well-laden. Incessant tree-felling all day, the noise didn’t let up so attempts to rest were even more fruitless. Behaving hitherto, the kettle did the weird foamy thing again late afternoon. Once bitten twice shy, I switched it off before crisis point and rinsed it out. Checking the theory there was something in the water, I searched online to see no reported problems. I stayed online to resolve Ocado smart pass issues and set a meeting with Valley Life.
ONS figures showed 103 weekly deaths. The highest since mid-May, Matt Keeling of Spi-M estimated 15.3 million infections by 19th July and a third of the population still susceptible to the Delta variant. With retail sales up 10.4% in June, a fifth of high street workers self-isolated after being pinged. young people deleted the TIT app and Kate Nicholls of UKHospitality told the commons business, energy & industrial strategy committee it could go up to 1:3. She wanted a ‘test-to-release policy’ so they could work. The Advisory Committee on Business Appointments said The Scumbag may have broken rules on paid work by charging for reading his Substack blog. In France, jabs for health workers and a negative test before accessing trains, cinemas and restaurants became mandatory. Parisians protested. Despite opposition from 25 backbenchers including ex-PM Theresa May, the government narrowly won the vote on overseas aid cuts. The strict conditions on returning to the original 0.7% of GDP (reduced debt and earning more than borrowing), would never be met.
More details of trouble at Wembley emerged. 19 Met officers injured, Kieran Graham who spat at and bit coppers, was jailed for 18 months. F1 driver Lando Norris was mugged of a McLaren watch on his way back to his supercar. Messages of support covered graffiti on Rashford’s mural. Artist Akse P19 said it had become ‘a symbol of love and solidarity’ as he went to repair the damage. On Jeremy Vine, idiot sociopath Samuels claimed we couldn’t compare messages from Boris and Patel on ‘gesture politics’ to what happened to footballers and defended their latest hypocritical mutterings. Jackie Smith succeeded in tying her up in knots. She again repeated she should be able to go out partying without a mask, while the vulnerable stayed locked indoors.
Lost and Found
As forecast, a spell of good weather commenced on Wednesday. We took the daytrip delayed a fortnight ago. On the way to the station, a gaggle of adorable goslings ate grass on the church lawn. Who knew they were yellow? We caught a fast service and were soon in Rochdale. We meandered down to the centre, observing changes since our last visit, perused the market (trad but crap), shops and alleyways, and tittered at The Butts and items dumped in the river below the ancient bridge. Would someone miss the e-scooter or was it part of one of those pilot schemes? A stand on the opposite corner suggested the latter. In the conservation area we headed for The Baum to be asked to fill out a contact slip before going through to the spacious back garden. Bizarrely, they asked for our drinks order before providing menus. Even more bizarre on a hot day, they had no lager due to an equipment upgrade. When lunch menus appeared, we discovered the food had become fancier and pricier in the intervening years. I wasn’t surprised that eating and drinking out contributed to inflation rising to 2.5% in June.
Phil was disappointed they’d lost the trad rag pudding but found a burger tempting while I ordered a proper Lancs cheese and onion pie. Tasty but huge, as were the chips, I foisted leftovers on him but even he struggled. Stuffed, we went in the Co-op Pioneers Museum. Two bored-looking workers the only occupants, they took our details and asked if we’d been before. I’d visited once with Walking Friend and my mind wandered as they gave Phil the gen. As we looked round the first floor, my handmade face-mask which had worked ‘til then, started to slip. I sat on a comfy sofa to re-fasten it but with no other visitors, it seemed ridiculous, especially watching funny old films on the top floor. Back in the town centre, Phil entered the tobacconists and I hung about in the street. A young man appeared at a top window, suspicious of my camera but withdrew when I assured him I took photos of buildings, not him. Near the town hall, an archaeology dig and extended pub seating obscured its magnificence and made the adjacent street cluttered. About to sit in the gardens, broken glass and dog shit put us off. We climbed ancient steps and collapsed on a bench in the churchyard at the top before returning to the station. A hot 10 minute wait preceded a hot slow journey on the stopping train. Phil on his phone the whole way, I looked out the window at sedately passing countryside. (for a fuller description and more photos, see Cool PlacesI)
On arrival, Phil realised he didn’t have his blazer. I sat on the concourse, roasting in full sun, while he ran up and down the platform. I suggested he ask at the ticket office where they promised to see if it turned up further down the line. Berating himself, Phil said it wasn’t worth picking up because they charged for lost property – disgusting! Even though I was exhausted, he lagged behind as we trudged home and went straight upstairs, leaving me to get coffee. I collapsed on the sofa; overheated and slightly irked. The local station then called to say his jacket was safely with them. He must have dropped it just as we alighted the train, after all that! I managed to cool down emotionally and physically but still full, declared I wasn’t cooking.
42,000 new covid cases and 49 deaths in the UK, levels rose on the Balearics and they moved to the amber list meaning quarantine for returning travellers (except the fully-vaxxed and under 18’s) I wondered what happened to the lifting of ‘advice not to travel’? Croatia and Bulgaria went green. TfL still insisting on face coverings, Shats said it was ‘common sense’ and “we expect (operators to put) in place whatever is applicable for their network.” Local bus and train companies left it to customers choice. Mayors Jarvis and Brabin made face-masks mandatory in bus stations. Tracy bemoaned a lack of power to act in the best interests of Yorkshire folk and RMT’s Mick Lynch cried: “(the government) cannot step back from this critical issue.” Medics from the BMA, RCN, BDA and Royal Pharma Society, wrote to demand mandatory masks in healthcare settings while Wales would keep them when other restrictions were lifted.
At PMQs, both party leaders praised the England footie team. Boris promised to crackdown on racist fans, with a lifetime ban on attending matches. Keir accused him of the ‘worst kind of gesture politics’ by wearing an England shirt over his suit and tie, and of igniting a culture war: “they’ve realised they’re on the wrong side, and they’re hoping nobody noticed.” The Bumbler retorted: “I don’t want to engage in a political culture war of any kind, I want to get on with delivering for the people of this country.” On Newsnight, Anna Soubry said the tories had lost their moral compass (did they ever have one?), had turned into the Brexit party and in line with ‘Tumpist populism’ would say anything to get a vote. They’d stoked fear and prejudice, created division and tried to hang onto the northern red wall at the risk of losing the southern blues. Getting it wrong on masks and taking the knee revealed them as charlatans.
Struggling after fractious sleep, cleaning the bedroom was hard work on Thursday, but at least a sunny breeze dried sheets quickly on the line. Late afternoon, we returned to the station. On the towpath, I saw a woman I’d become friendly with in art class some years ago. Sitting on the alcy bench, she supped coffee rather than cider and complained she was “fed up with it all.” “Everyone is,” I replied, “but just because we’re fed up doesn’t mean it’s over.” “True.” I availed myself of empty seating outside the closed station café while Phil retrieved his blazer. Expecting the park café to be shut too, I ignored my thirst. We squatted on grass near the skateboarders, amused by al-fresco chi that resembled performance art and snippets of conversation on philosophy and toe lumps. I should have taken a tape recorder. As we walked round on the riverside path, the café was apparently still serving but I felt we’d missed the pop window.
We went home via the small footbridge where a strange character head bobbed in the water. Had a distraught child lost a precious toy? Cooking salmon I’d found in the reduced section and stuffed in the freezer on Tuesday, I forgot it included sauce in a plastic tube. Looking unsavoury, I labelled it a “vomcicle” which had Phil in stitches. Was there a Halloween marketing idea there? For the record, the sauce didn’t taste of sick.
48,000 new cases, the highest for 6 months, daily deaths rose again. In official guidance for businesses, government ‘expected and recommended’ workers and customers to wear face-masks from 19th July. Supermarkets Asda, Lidl, Sainsburys, Tesco and Waitrose would encourage it; the latter 2 also kept other measures like social distance, limited numbers in store, protective screens and sanitiser stations. The Bumbler put forward skeletal plans on levelling up, saying a ‘flexible approach’ to devolution would mean local town leaders could ‘make things happen for their communities’. Vaguely referencing more money for education and some other stuff, labour described his speech as ‘gibberish’. Keir went to Blackpool. During tea in The Winter Gardens, he said a proper regional strategy was needed. At an evening session at The Tower Ballroom, he spoke to people who’d lost faith in labour and vowed to regain trust. Later admitting it was a ‘tough gig’, he said it was better than a ‘warm bath’ with electors who agreed with him.
The UK football Policing Unit (UKFPU) announced a hate crime inquiry, working closely with social media companies. 5 arrested so far, Insta head Adam Mosseri admitted they failed to flag some racist comments but insisted the issue was since resolved: “it is absolutely not okay to send racist emojis, or any kind of hate speech on Instagram. To imply otherwise is to be deliberately misleading and sensational.”
Pingdemic
Very humid on Friday, I got hot and tired doing housework and frustrated doing stuff on the computer. The internet flaky for over a day now, I gave up and went to the co-op. Gaps on shelves, especially in the salad aisle, could be explained by everyone having picnics and barbecues, or by supply chain staff being pinged but obviously nowt to do with Brexit! At the till, I related our Pioneer’s Museum visit to the friendly cashier. She’d never been; I was surprised it wasn’t part of their induction. Phil arrived to join in, helped pack and carried groceries. After lunch, I sanded bubbles off the garden bench caused by last week’s rain and applied more varnish. I’d noticed the rose bush near the front door now reached the landing window and lopped at it as a neighbour bemoaned the lost blooms. I lay down but it was too hot to rest so ate a magnum. In the evening, we watched old DVDs, including a rerun of Britannia season 1, forgetting how long the first episode was. We drank too much wine, stayed up too late, became over-tired and had another crappy night.
The ONS revealed 154,000 total deaths, the R value still 1.2-1.4 but daily cases over 50,000 already. Chris Witless said hospital cases could reach ‘quite scary’ levels. Over ½ a million pinged in the last week, problems with test results resurfaced. Public services, firms and unions predicted shut-downs as staff self-isolated, affecting amongst others, the NHS, the Nissan plant and Leeds bin men. In the coming days, food producers, carriers and purveyors would join the chorus warning of a ‘pingdemic’. Workers ditching the app, the government again promised tweaks to make it less sensitive but refused to shorten the month-long gap between ‘Freedom Day’ and relaxed quarantine rules. Scientists predicted modifications to TIT would lead to undetected cases and ‘missed opportunities to reduce transmission’. Prof. Calum Semple reported 1:3 hospital cases suffered ‘acute covid injury’ (damage to heart, lungs or kidneys). PHE warned of spikes in norovirus when restrictions eased. Outbreaks in nurseries already far more than normal for summer, they didn’t explain why. Floods devastated parts of Germany, Belgium and Holland. Cars piled up, homes swept away, thousands were left homeless, 128 died and 1,300 went missing. Europeans blamed politicians.
Feeling wobbly Saturday morning, I braved the blazing sun to varnish bare patches on the garden bench. Walking Friend came past on her way to work and complemented my hat. Worn for essential rather than fashion reasons, I worried she’d fry without one. She assured me she was buying a parasol. Phil sawed wood planks to size and fixed the broken planter. I pottered slowly as the heat built up. Phil absent-mindedly sat on the recently-varnished bench, causing alarm. He said I over-reacted, I got angry and stormed indoors to cool off. He apologised and promised to fix any damage; thankfully, there was none. Nipping to the co-op for bread, I found reduced pastries for lunch which cheered us up. Doing anything online still a trial, Phil spent an hour on the phone to Talk-Talk, half of which was taken up locating bank details for security. No longer getting paper statements, he found it quite absurd. The connection improved marginally, but didn’t last long.
Outdoor activity resulted in filthy feet, smelly armpits and sweaty hair. We showered and changed before dinner. Struggling to stay awake earlier, I had more sleep but again woke too early Sunday morning. Still warm but cloudy, we visited the nearby clough for the cool of trees and water. Invited to join a gig in the hippie garden, I politely said maybe later but added to Phil “they’re probably a bunch of anti-maskers.” “You’re too judgemental.” “Maybe.” A Guardian family selfishly hogged the island, blocking access to stepping-stones. Phil forded the stream further up while I threw rocks in. Failing to land straight enough for my liking, I waited for him to return from the waterfall. He crossed back on my newly-placed stones, saying they were fine. On the top path, a coffee cup imprinted with a baby foot seemed a bit special to be abandoned at the foot of a tree. At the stone bridge, we examined incredibly tall flowers and waited for a youngster to vacate the bench so we could rest. Back at the lower end, the family had shifted. We stepped across to the islands. Newly-deposited shingle stretched almost to the weir and gave the impression of walking on water (see haiga aboveii). Taking a different way home, we gave the heaving town centre a wide berth. Sleeping was mediocre at best in the sultry heat of the night.
Neil Ferguson told Marr infections could reach 200,000 a day, double previous estimates. Claiming a data breach, CCTV footage of The Cock and Gina had been seized in raids. Victoria Newton from The Sun called it ‘outrageous’ to treat whistle-blowing as not in the public interest. In an exposé of trouble at Wembley, they revealed security guards took bribes from ticketless fans. The FA commissioned an independent review. Goblin Saj got covid even after 2 jabs and self-isolated. It emerged contacts in government didn’t have to due to taking part in public sector pilots of ‘test and release’ which no one had ever heard of. Jon Ashworth said it was another example of one rule for them, another for everyone else. Marr ridiculously asked him 10 times if he supported fully opening up, even though he clearly answered. Boris later U-turned; he and Rishi Rich would isolate because they didn’t want ‘Freedom Day’ to become a free for all (sic). Holiday-makers on Ibiza and Mykonos were banned from dancing and a rise in the Beta variant led to France becoming ‘amber plus’ for travel, making quarantine mandatory again and creating yet more confusion. As the pingdemic spread over the weekend, the Metropolitan Line shut and M&S shortened hours due to staff absences.
The Corvus Diaries 