Plain Wrong
Tuesday dawned dull and grey after overnight rain. The forecasters kept saying the weather was going to be great but there was no sign of that in the valley so far.
Although I slept better, It still required a big effort to get going. I wanted to crack on with the bathroom project. As I dressed, Phil sat on the bed doing his gig economy job. It amused me that he could do it on his phone, from anywhere “You’re turning into an AI!”
He said he’d finished the grouting but a dirty-looking strip at the side of the back window offended me. He applied more. I continued work on the storage cubes until he declared his work done then finished the skirting boards. Escaping the stink of turps, I nipped out to the garden for clean air. Very overgrown again, goose grass annoyingly snagged at my clothes and threatened to strangle the Welsh poppies. The street crowded with delivery vans and recyclers backing up, dog walkers and cycling kids, I retreated back indoors. As I lay reading on the bed, my eyelids became heavy and in spite of all the noise outside, I found myself actually falling asleep; very unusual for the afternoon. I awoke feeling woozy and disorientated. Phil found it hilarious for some reason.
After the debacle of the bleach, The Trump caused more uproar by taking hydroxychloroquine, as he’d heard ‘good stories’ about it; was that bedtime stories? The drug could be deadly especially for people who were overweight. With his morbid obesity, even the ultra-right-wing Fox News said “you will die!”
Over here, Unpretty Patel announced a points based system for migrant workers. Did that mean those essential key workers who had kept the country going for the past several weeks? The Science and Technology Committee said the government strategy to halt mass testing at the start of the pandemic had been wrong. Motivated by capacity, they’d never revealed ‘the science’ that informed it and lockdown had proved much more costly. Stupid DWP Minister Therese Toffee-Nose (who never answered my letter about the ridiculous sickness benefit situation, by the way) claimed it was the fault of the likes of Witless, Fergie, and Vallance who’d apparently given the government ‘wrong advice’. The early strategy to move patients from the NHS into care homes was also attacked. Ministers responded that at the time there were few transmissions ‘in the community’. Well, thanks to them, that soon changed! Was there any idiotic decision for which they could not come up with a warped excuse or blame someone else for?
While unemployment rose, CO2 levels fell. A knucklehead from Visit England said the British public must be told domestic vacations were safe and proposed a second bank holiday in October. We’d been here before – Trafalgar Day anyone?
Scents and Nonsense
Warm and sunny Wednesday, I ignored a recurring throat niggle and insisted “I am going for a walk today!”
Now allowed picnics, we took sandwiches and set off towards the towpath. We soon found it blocked and returned to the road to climb up the gentler valley side. Heady scents of pine assailed us. Phil said it smelt of holidays. Passing hedgerows crowded with poppies, we reached a steep track with switchbacks, making us overheat. We stopped to rest and drink water (I rued not bringing more). Cooler In the woods, we detoured onto a magical-looking path, edged by perfumed bluebells. At the top, we perched on a wall to eat the packed lunch, enjoying a light breeze as we gazed towards the pike. We followed signs down on the Pennine Way, the path becoming uncomfortably stony underfoot. The towpath blocked at the makeshift commune, I said it was a good idea to contain the hippies! To avoid tramping the dusty main road, we returned to back streets, the scent of ransoms replacing that of traffic fumes. We popped in the shop for ice cream. Normally immune to advertising, I had to admit the new magnum ruby red lollies were yummy! For more information and photos, see Cool Placesii
Captain Tom got a knighthood. “I hope the queen’s not heavy-handed with the sword!” He quipped . Bumbling Boris announced the ‘world beating’ TIT system would be operational by 1st June; the day schools were due to increase intake. 35 Local Authorities said they would not tell schools to follow the guidance, including Calderdale. To which the local Tory MP responded that head teachers were ‘puppets of paymaster unions’, and their views were ‘not based on evidence’. More Tory hypocrisy! In my experience of working in schools, heads were quite averse to joining unions. Meanwhile, Serco admitted the e-mail addresses of 300 newly recruited contact tracers had been shared by accident. Hmm! Would that be the same outsourcing firm ran by the brother of a Tory MP?
I tossed and turned in the hot bright night, unable to stop my mind churning (not unusual after a stimulating day). I peeped through the curtains to see tons of stars. With the aid of sky map on the ipad, I located Virgo, Libra and Sirius. Other constellations were unfamiliar, suggesting a new view of the night sky.
After a bad night, I slept late into Thursday morning. Shocked, I jumped off the bed, instantly disorientating myself. I told Phil he should have woken me but subsequently had second thoughts – I would probably have bitten his head off! Morning telly featured the nation’s favourite sandwich. As bacon topped the list we joked about ‘the rise of the gammons’. While we had partaken of a local walk and picnic on the hottest day of the year so far, sheep-like herds had descended on crowded seaside resorts. With the weekly clap due, ‘shaming’ neighbours for not applauding carers was apparently a thing. It did not occur to these judgemental dunderheads that some were put off by the likes of Bumbling Boris and other Tories joining in, having cynically starved the health and social care systems of cash for years! Not to mention the cynical way they had dealt with the whole crisis!
As I hung washing outside, I chatted to our young student neighbour. She was not happy about Cambridge Uni’s plans for all lectures to be on-line next term, but conceded social distancing would be difficult in halls. Comparing notes on what we missed during lockdown, she thought for us it would be the pub. I assured her we had not been regular beer drinkers for some time (it was too expensive and besides, it got boring after the first few decades!) She said she had only drunk a pint and a half during her first year (things had definitely changed since my day). She agreed there were some benefits to these strange days such as cleaner air. We discovered a shared experience as by coincidence, we had both looked out at the starry sky at exactly the same time in the early hours.
As I continued with DIY in the bathroom, Phil went to the co-op. I suggested he peruse the ‘meal deal’ for an easy weekend dinner. Alas, what we thought was pizza was actually garlic bread. “That’s not a meal, that’s a snack!” I went back outside to clear my senses and ended up weeding to get rid of the pesky goose grass and brambles, cutting my fingers to ribbons in the process.
The odd kid was removing a bit of tree from next door’s garden. As she placed it in the middle of the street, I asked “now what?” “Good question.” She then proceeded to peel it with a penknife, to which I said “that doesn’t look safe.” “Oh. We didn’t think of that.” Her mum emerged, seemingly unconcerned by her daughter’s hazardous activity. I said hello and repeated the question “now what?” She decided to put it behind their garden bench. As she did so, the partner of next-door-but-one appeared, laden with a box of plants. Both gardens shared a single flight of stone steps and as he said he wanted to take the plants up, the mum assured him “we’ll be one minute”. Task over, they plonked on the bench to read a story. Unable to pass safely, he gave up.
Following a U-turn on giving bereaved refugee families of NHS workers ‘leave to remain’, Bumbling Boris did another one on the NHS surcharge. Only the day before at PMQs, he had refused to do so, insisting charging health staff to use the service they worked for was fair. Oxford scientists said their vaccine may be ready by September. But confusingly went onto say it might not be available until next year. Antibody test estimates suggested 17% of citizens in London and 5% nationally had already had coronavirus. The petition I’d signed reached enough signatures to force a government response. I was still not holding my breath for that one…
Yet again, I had a terrible night. As I struggled to get to sleep, I realised the weird situation was really getting to me. While trying hard to not get worked up about it and use coping strategies, the anxiety over the idiocy of the government became overwhelming. Some of us knew it would be the worst government ever in history from the get-go, but why did it have to be them in charge when we were faced with such a terrible situation? They were taking us to hell in a handcart! I finally drifted off to the meditation soundtrack, but snoozed lightly and intermittently.
Out of Sorts
Friday, we both felt out of sorts due to lack of sleep. While I needed time to come round with a cuppa, Phil talked over the morning news. With too many things going on at once, my head ached. I asked him to be quiet. He parroted me in a mocking tone making me very angry. I shouted “shut up!” He eventually did so and we sat quietly for a bit, both fuming. A musician being interviewed on zoom farted. It had me instantly in hysterics! I said “That shows how tired I am; shouting one minute, laughing the next.” I had just taken a sip of tea when Phil remarked “I have said before these people should be sat on the toilet just in case.” This had me spluttering into my cup. Then I started choking. Alarmed, I rushed to the bathroom, trying to dislodge the blockage, became panicky and screamed “I can’t breathe!” I tried to add “Help!” but the words refused to come out above the coughing. Eventually he came to hit my back and things calmed down again. Needless to say, I felt miles worse after that escapade. I practiced controlled breathing until I felt calmer and able to get on with the day.
I was far too tired and discombobulated for a shopping trip before coffee. When I did venture to the co-op, I encountered few issues. The cashier worked so fast he literally threw my purchases at me. “I can’t keep up!” I told him. He laughed and offered to help pack my bags “No thanks. I have a system.” Nevertheless, it took ages to sort and wash the groceries, after which I had to hang washing on the line. Knackered and thirsty, I collapsed on the sofa with a glass of water. Meanwhile, Phil cut his hair with instructions to hoover the bathroom thoroughly afterwards as painting was still in progress. We decided it would be impractical to paint the floor until Sunday night. In the meantime, the wooden panelling on the side of the bath could be done. I planned to do this after lunch but as I was so tired, I abandoned the idea. Instead, I backed up files and checked e-mails. The manager of Valley Life Magazineiii messaged that the next issue, deferred from April, would appear in August. I advised her to use the submission due to appear in the issue postponed from April. More desperate than ever for an afternoon nap, I failed to relax and felt as though I would never sleep again. The extreme fatigue made me tearful. I rallied round slightly with more caffeine.
As I brought the washing in, I spotted a toy lawnmower by our dustbin. The strong wind that had gusted all day had blown it there from the community garden. Guessing which neighbour it belonged to, I knocked on the appropriate door and stood well back while the young woman answered. I explained that I didn’t want to touch the toy ‘for obvious reasons’. She said it was not her small son’s but belonged to another kid who’d been “wrecking the garden.”
The issue of schools re-opening featured on the news again with the leader of Calderdale Council explaining why he would not tell heads to follow government guidance. SAGE came out with the wisdom that kids were half as likely to get Covid-19 as older people and that teachers were not particularly at high risk. But there was no ‘science’ on transmission, leaving me to conclude they were nought but a bunch of lackeys.
Mercifully, I had a better night meaning I could do some DIY on Saturday. Painting the side of the bath made my back and neck ache. Phil went to town and reported it buzzing with people drinking in the streets, not observing social distancing. The convenience store had an odd sign about maintaining 2 metres distance to prevent hysteria. Mystified, he asked the staff what it meant but came away none the wiser. I had a look myself a couple of days later but it still failed to make sense!
Storms and Shitstorms
Sunday Morning started cloudy and chilly following overnight showers. The recent blustery conditions were caused by a storm albeit with only a splatter of rain hereabouts. Forecasters said the wind was due to die down. However, we had to wait another day for the lovely sunshine to re-appear.
Marr discussed the shit-storm that had emerged concerning Scumbag Cumberbatch travelling to Durham during total lockdown, on the day he’d been spotted running from number 10. The bunker was on his dad’s estate as it turned out. In his defence, Grant Shats instructed us to “read the guidance”. What? Would that be the same guidance that changed every 5 minutes and contradicted itself all over the place? We could only get more confused reading that clap-crap!
Having a bath required added palaver with the ongoing DIY; moving painting stuff out, putting rugs down, checking the bath for insects and cleaning it out. I decided to try and get it finished and set about washing bags and baskets used to store toiletries and holiday items. Very strange forms emerged from one such bag. Possibly clumps of dust, some looked suspiciously like insect larvae. No wonder we had strange animals living in the bathroom! The task gave me back and head ache and made me extremely tired. I took a break then thought I’d get some writing done. Working through the fatigue, I eventually posted ‘Confined walk 3 – Riverside’ for Cool Placesii. At bedtime, Phil painted a first coat on the bathroom floor. I heard a lot of grunting. He said it was due to stuff on the clothes horse over the bath, meaning he had to contort his bad back. I admitted I had not thought of that. If he’d told me I would have put the bags elsewhere to dry.
Monday brought yet another pointless Bank Holiday. At least the storm finally passed, leaving warm sunshine in its wake. As the news mainly contained fall-out from The Scumbag’s trip up north, I took part in a poll showing 80% of participants said ‘sack him!’ But of course Bumbling Boris wouldn’t- he couldn’t function without his spin doctor.
I spent the morning on mundane tasks and blog posts including a haigai. Phil applied another coat of paint on the bathroom floor and we set off for town while it dried.
Heaving with day-trippers: carparks and bins full, queues for café take-a-ways, benches outside the pub full. The square had become a makeshift food court. In search of lunch snacks, the local convenience stores offered meagre pickings. We waited ages while a family who looked like they’d already eaten all the pies, hovered round the instant food section. The staff complained about the tourists “There are at least 300 people in the square”, one of them exaggerated. Navigating the busy street I was almost mown down by a motorbike. In the park we found a suitable patch of grass amidst the small groups populating the green spaces, in front of the shut café. They could at least sell ice cream. Enjoying a long overdue picnic in the sunshine, we realised it was the first time since early March we had bought ‘lunch out’. Discussing the recent farrago, we agreed the cat was fully out of the bag now. Although physical distancing was not being totally ignored, friendship groups had definitely formed. I learnt the art beloved of Daily Mail photographers, misleading the viewer into thinking small clumps of people were actually one seething mass. Small knots of people lounged and chatted on the playing field. Kids in retro punk t-shirts drank tinnies. An infamous local character staggered from one group to another, wearing a mask round his chin. Phil suggested his keyworker probably put a stack in his house to protect the rest of us. It wasn’t working!
After eating, we walked along the canal to the boundary of the next village and returned via the cycle path, admiring the various wild flowers of the different habitats. I popped in the co-op while Phil waited outside. The halfwit serving me spoke into his headset: “we appear to have a stalker at the window.“ I turned round to see Phil doing funny faces behind my back! For more information and photos see Cool Placesii
Back home, the bathroom floor had dried quickly in the warmth. Settling down with coffee and cake, we tried to follow the awful statement by The Scumbag. He may be good at the 3-word slogans but public speaking not so much! Having borrowed a clean white shirt, the scruff appeared in the rose garden and rambled for 2 hours, explaining the flee to Durham was necessary to ensure childcare should both he and his wife get Covid-19, and giving some hokum about driving around on his wife’s birthday to ‘test his eyesight.’
A part of me wondered if the tale could be true (stupid and arrogant as it sounded). But he undoubtedly broke lockdown rules and the highway code by driving while potentially blind. Later, The Glove Puppet claimed he was ‘wise’ to do a test drive and confused everyone further by saying you were allowed to drive for exercise – err, not in April you weren’t, you complete muppet! You would think the people who wrote the rules would know the rules! The Scumbag’s wife, Mary Whitehouse, gave an account of the escapade a month ago in the right wing Spectator. It contained several details contradicting her husband’s version of events.
A late briefing headed by Bumbling Boris started with some waffle about schools followed by a preview of ‘intended’ changes (subject to a lockdown review Thursday). Outdoor markets and car showrooms would be able to open from 1st June and all other retail from 15th June, if they were ‘covid secure’. Yet more ‘new guidance’ would be issued. He swiftly handed over to Mrs. Doyle to present a pointless slideshow of daft diagrams and meaningless graphs, with no mention of The Scumbag until questions were asked. Boris unsurprisingly voiced support, saying he wouldn’t be ‘marked down’ for doing right by his family (it was forever public school days for them lot!) At the same time, he potentially left his aide out to dry, saying ‘people decide’. Oh dear! They never learn ‘the willy of the people’ is a capricious beast, do they? The series finale of Medici the Magnificent on Netflix had a sobering lesson about that. I suggest they watch it. Boris’ approval rating had already plummeted into the minuses. How long before the hoi polloi bayed for heads on sticks?
References:
i. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com
ii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/
iii. Valley Life magazine: http://valleylifemagazine.co.uk/
The Corvus Diaries 