The Corvus Papers 1: Shock And Awe

”This is not an abstract discussion…this is whether people can live meaningful lives” (Michael Marmot)

Striking Out

The geese migrated during August, picking at weeds and sunbathing in the middle of our street, which was okay except for them pooing on the doorstep. The Local Celeb and Wife on the street below concurred.

Blogs taking a hiatus, I planned to look for paid freelancing jobs but DIY took up most of the month. The task hard enough, another heatwave made it even worse. On the plus side, in a tangle of wires behind the telly, we discovered appliances unnecessarily plugged in thus using leccy, including the evil Xbox. Slimming down to essentials would save pennies! And I got to wear a racy early 21^st century painting outfit of wide pants and an FCUK tee. Phil slogged to the hardware store in the next village on Monday 1^st and buses not turning up, lugged bags of plaster back. The Woman Next Door subsequently said she’d have given him a lift. Maybe next time. After fixing the living room ceiling, we tackled the grotty wall behind the sofa. Cobwebs and dust had congealed into fluffy brown clumps. Vile stains proved immovable. Resigned to painting, could we buy the same shade? Of course not! And when that made a dazzling yellow, we had to make all the others match, and do the windows. While the sofa was in the middle of the room, I enjoyed the different view but not the inconvenience of being unable to reach the side table. Our woes paled into insignificance as a fire in a converted mill gutted creative businesses. Starting at 2.00 a.m. on Tuesday 2^nd in the Italian Restaurant kitchen, we speculated that someone left the chipper on arson by a rival, The building declared unsafe, fire engines from Manchester and across Yorkshire worked throughout the day to make it safe, and people were told to avoid closed town centre roads – an Air BnB tragedy! Mercifully no casualties, nearby homes were evacuated and others advised to keep windows and doors shut. The Lampshade Maker whose studio was destroyed, went on Look North to say “I can’t believe it’s all gone!” A resident of the street below, we got her story first-hand a couple of days later when she returned from a restorative woodland walk. As they were insured, I was flummoxed by crowd-funding for those affected.

Saturday, I bumped into German Friend and Counsellor Friend. Bantering on the trials of shopping and the oddness of Steampunk and classic car weekend coinciding, I mentioned we’d go see the old bangers Sunday. Counsellor Friend quipped: “Talking about yourself? Ha, ha.” “Cheeky! It’s a touchy subject. I’m 60 in a month.” “Oh no! That means my brother is too and I’ve sent him nowt.” German Friend confided 60 didn’t feel that bad. As she waved bye, I briefly recounted our travails to Counsellor Friend then apologised for cheerless rabbiting.

Sunday in the park was indeed weird. Were the punters steam-gammons or gammon-punks? As well as admiring the classics, providing Phil a month’s worth of photo-editing, we bought a mini table vice, prompting a ditty to the tune of edelweiss and perused the extortionate ‘food court’. Heading into town, we browsed the squat library, eyed suspiciously by young anarcho-punks. I was reading them old classics before their parents were born!

A couple of weeks later, the squat windows were smashed; there were some nasty people about, but I had to chuckle at handwritten notices threatening court to anyone who entered without their permission – very anarchistic! Finding nothing tempting on the steampunk market or normal Sunday market, we got pasties and pop from the shop and sat near the wavy steps to watch the antics of poseurs, dogs and kids in kilts, becoming rather warm in the strong sun. Sauntering home, we chatted to Irish Neighbour clearing up dead trees on the street, about the town being packed with tourists, inflation, Brexit and the war, leading to another apology for being so depressing!

Covid deaths fell 11% for the first time since June. King’s College research put long-covid in 3 categories: neurological; breathing; other symptoms. Predicting recession in the last quarter and lasting into 2023. the BoE raised the interest rate to 1.75%. Andrew Bailey blamed Russia for rising energy costs. Gammons were still in denial it was anything to do with Brexit. Trussed-Up repeated she’d lower taxes ‘from day one’ rather than give cost of living handouts, and Rishi Rich said if they didn’t get inflation under control, tories could ‘kiss goodbye’ to the next election. Meanwhile, 52% of people polled, now found a pint unaffordable. BT workers on strike, Lisa Nandy joined a CWU picket line in Wigan. As they were affiliated to labour, she had permission and didn’t speak to the media, she incurred no wrath, unlike Tarry. Locked into a 4-year 2% pay deal, junior doctors would get less than NHS colleagues. The BMA wrote to Rishi and Truss urging them to prevent an inevitable strike. Offered a paltry 2%, Scottish bin men struck for the duration of the Edinburgh fringe. Accused of ‘levelling down’, Trussed-Up ditched plans for public sector regional pay boards. Amid hacking fears, GCHQ delayed mailing of tory leadership ballot papers. Lord Cruddas said a vote for Boris would stop interference. Horrifyingly, he’d probably be back after she fucked up. The New Statesman obtained a video wherein Rishi boasted of diverting funds from deprived urban areas to places that ‘really deserved it’ like Tunbridge Wells. Chair of red wall tory northerners, Jake Berry, wasn’t impressed. Nandy wrote to her counterpart Greg Clark to ‘urgently investigate’ saying: “It’s scandalous that Rishi Sunak is openly boasting that he fixed the rules to funnel taxpayers’ money to prosperous Tory shires.”

Amid reports of traffickers reducing prices in a competitive market, 14 boats arrived in Ramsgate, each carrying 50 people. The record 700 migrants on a single day were bussed in double-deckers. Ship Razoni set off to full of Ukrainian grain at long last. Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Taiwan prompted Chinese military exercises, reports of fighter jet incursions into Taiwanese airspace and the firing of 11 missiles. China later halted co-operation with the US in key areas such as climate change, military talks and combating international crime, and sanctioned Pelosi. Why the hell did the daft woman go there? Jaswant Singh Chail, arrested on Christmas day for possessing a loaded crossbow with intent to harm Queenie at Windsor Castle, was charged under the treason act. In a bid to reserve dwindling water supplies, hosepipe bans were announced in Hants, Kent and Sussex. After Useless George told The Torygraph there should be a national ban, water companies were derided for impractical water-saving tips. We Own It gasped: ‘who has an oak barrel?’ As a burst water main flooded Hornsey Road, George Monbiot told Jeremy Vine it was no surprise water companies piped profits into shareholders’ pockets instead of investing in infrastructure. James Gammon was the only one who didn’t agree they should be nationalised. A dad bathing with his kids found a stash of dumped guns in a river pool in Catford. Harry Gration’s funeral took place at York Minster while Issey Miyake was buried before the news of his demise broke. Roy Hackett (equality campaigner and founder of the Bristol bus boycott paving the way for the Race Relations Act), also died. Surely that solved the issue of whose statue should replace Colston? A new super-fast mapping device on the William Herschel telescope would help analyse how the galaxy was formed. Maybe they should’ve detected lumps of Space X which landed in a farmer’s field in New South Wales. Rather than demand compo, they could sell it back to Elon Musk or flog it on e-bay. A Halifax woman hilariously electrocuted hoovering her fake lawn, was saved from death by awful rubber shoes.

Taxing Times

Headaches, befuddlement, hot flushes and melancholia plagued the second week of August. Although sometimes too fatigued to exercise, I managed to not stay abed. To top it all, a series of tech issues made the laptop sluggish and the ipad suddenly decided I needed to verify my Apple account and my date of birth was wrong! Phil located the freephone number for a human to eventually sort it, but the palaver was very stressful. Almost as bad as trying to extract dosh from a piddly stakeholder pension. Over-complicated and a total con (why did I have to pay tax when I’d already paid it on earnings?), after advice from Moneywise, I gave up. Neighbours all abroad in the hot spell, idle chatter brought light relief although I avoided the WhatsApp group to oppose new affordable housing and close contact with The Widower, whose daughter came to look after him and ended up bedridden with suspected covid!

Tempted by a co-op deal of pizzas and beer for a fiver, I couldn’t find the 4-pack. A staff member located it ‘on the beer shelf’. “Which one?” When I told him I’d got no reply to my complaint to HO, he requested I let him know if I did. After greeting a woman on the street below for the first time on the way, she and her partner sat out on deckchairs on my return. I remarked on their extremely fluffy cat. “Yes, it must be hot.” “I was thinking that; I know they like sun but there are limits!” Sunday, we visited the favoured clough to find it so dry we could walk up the brook – a secret gorge! (see Cool Placesⁱ). We also noticed felled red leaves due to hot, dry conditions. BBC Breakfast later mentioned the ‘false autumn’. A notice on the convenience store advertised part-time vacancies. Phil had a new job within weeks. I was chuffed for him, not because of the money but because it boosted his self-esteem. Interesting fact: the stores’ huge basement extended to the marketplace – a possible history photo project. Struggling to sleep with hot flushes and drippy sweats over the weekend, I had weird dreams. One entailed ex-colleagues in workplace scenarios giving me food and cash in an envelope marked ‘office reserves’. In another, Walking Friend and I used a shortcut to the airport via a college with lots of rooms. It looked familiar like I’d previously dreamt the place, while simultaneously feeling as though I should and shouldn’t be there.

7,000 extra NHS beds were planned for winter but there wouldn’t be enough staff. Ending a 3-month lockdown after allegedly only 74 deaths, Kim Jong-un proclaimed a North Korean victory over covid. The UK economy shrank by 0.1% April-June. Firms still waiting for business rate rebates promised during the pandemic, ¾ of restaurant chains made a loss. National Energy Action wanted help urgently; the later it came, the more people would die in cold homes. Protesting soaring bills, the social media movement Don’t Pay UK gained momentum, but not paying could lead to more problems. Jack Munro advised reducing prices for all and switching from DD to standing order payments, depending on penalties. ¾ of red wall tory voters reckoned government failed to tackle the cost of living crisis. Gordy Brown and CBI boss Tony Danker also wanted something urgent. Number 10 said that would be up to the new PM and ministers drew up options for whoever that would be (as if we didn’t know). Danker spluttered: “We simply cannot afford a summer of government inactivity while the leadership contest plays out followed by a slow start from a new PM and cabinet.” Boris shocked energy bosses by actually turning up to a meeting with Kwasi Modo and Nads Zahawi who inanely said it was tough times. Trussed-Up said profits weren’t dirty and windfall taxes were about ‘bashing business’. We Own It found 3/5 supported public ownership of utilities and the Tony Blair institute reckoned Truss’s plans would save low income households a mighty 76p per month. Nurses asking for a 16% rise (which they’d never get) took part in a strike ballot. BBC leadership interviews avoided, later in the month, Trussed-Up insisted she was too busy to speak to Nick Robinson. After Rishi said he’d bin it, Ben Wally scrapped the muted migrant camp at Linton-On-Ouse. Of 7 cities shortlisted to host Eurovision 2023, Glasgow was shockingly the only one outside England. During chaos in Oxford Street not reported in mainstream media, American candy shops were looted, Ferraris jumped on, police assaulted and a dispersal order enforced. The legal test for prosecution not met, CPS dropped charges against 6 attendees at the Sarah Everard vigil, March 2021. Dania Al-Obeid subsequently brought civil proceedings against The Met. Salman Rushdie was stabbed preparing to give a lecture in NY state. More wildfires in Portugal, Spain, Southern France and England, new heat warnings were issued and official droughts declared in parts of south and east England. Introducing a hosepipe ban, Thames Water dished out bottled water due to a glitch. The ban came to Yorkshire 26^th August. Half of Europe parched, Naga Manchette was ‘shocked’ by a dry Rhine. The FBI raided Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago Florida house and later disclosed they found 100 ‘top secret’ document – all a conspiracy of course! Olivia Newton John and Raymond Briggs died. A moving tribute to the latter on The Beeb was followed by Ethel & Earnest.

Shocking Disparities

A boring start to week 3, I was cheered by charity shopping (finding a cute shirt in the Community Shop) and lunch with Walking Friend Wednesday. Seeking a change, we headed for The Kitchen but ran away from exorbitant prices. Walking Friend queried where would we get cheaper in this town? One of our usual places of course! After baked potatoes at half price in The Tearooms, we wandered town and gazed upon the weir. She told me she once found a safe with the back blown off in a brook. Was it from a heist? Phil had arranged to put a picture up for her Friday, but as more problems were unearthed, he delayed doing anything more till a spark had a proper look. Glad of no cooking after a day decorating alone, I noted the cold tapas was rather pricey. Phil predicted eating more chicken nuggets in future. I used to scoff at people saying eating fresh was more expensive than junk, but Inflation at a record 10.1% and groceries up 11.6%, it really was now! Sunday, we returned to the foraging grounds for a couple of pounds of blackberries. Enjoyable but knackering, I managed to splatter my jeans in purple juice (See Cool Places).

Effective against the original Wuhan and Omicron strains of coronavirus, Moderna’s new bivalent vaccine would provide 13 of the 26 million autumn booster doses. We were counselled to take up whatever was offered. As roll-out was confirmed from 5^th September, starting with the housebound and care homes, GPs warned £10.60 per jab wasn’t enough to ensure delivery. US scientists found musical instruments no worse spreaders than normal breathing. SNP MP Margaret Farrier pleaded guilty to exposing the public to covid travelling by train between London and Glasgow, September 2020. Monkeypox cases plateaued at 20 a day, but vaccine shortages caused concern. Northern mayors feared drastic bus service cuts when coronavirus support ended and Heathrow extended the cap on passengers until 29^th October. Calling them lame, Mike O’Leary pledged to save half-term with extra Stanstead flights. At the end of August, Ryanair announced more winter flights than ever while Eurostar still recovering from the pandemic’s impact, would axe direct London services to Disneyland Paris next year. Generation Covid who’d missed out on GCSE exams, received A level and T level results. Less students achieving top grades than when based on teacher assessments in 2021, record numbers progressed to university. A stark divide between private and public schools, a shocking disparity between the South East and North East was blamed on the disproportionate impact of lockdowns (11% versus 15% lessons missed). A week later, GCSE results showed similar regional differences, with almost 1/3 above grade 7/A in London, compared to around 1/5 in the North East, Yorks and Humber, due to poverty and lost learning. Pearson’s BTEC results delayed, labour urged Ofqual to investigate what went wrong. As The Bumbler was on his hols again, Tory donor Lord Rose said he was on shore leave. Keir also accused of being MIA, labour set out plans to cancel the £400 energy payments and freeze the price cap instead. The £29 bn outlay would be paid for by windfall tax changes, more income from bigger oil and gas prices and lower inflation making government loans less costly. No authority to implement plans, it heaped pressure on the government to do more.

ONS data showed private sector ay rose 5.4% compared to 1.8% for the public sector. Wages fell 3% in real terms. Richard Walker told BBC Breakfast about Iceland’s partnership with Fair For You, giving micro-loans so the hard-up could buy food. 18-month pilots revealed few defaulted, with easy terms of £1 a week if they did. Avanti West Coast reduced their timetable due to staff ‘making themselves unavailable’, and cancelled advance ticket sales till 11^th September. Avanti MD Phil Whittingham resigned 15^th September, exposing his lies that less services were staffs’ fault. More strikes on 18^th and 20^th August saw 4/5 trains cancelled and Jeremy Corbyn on the Euston picket line. RMT members joined TFL pickets Friday. Mick Lynch said workers in other sectors were winning pay disputes and the public were increasingly behind them. DOT pledged a below-inflation rail fare rise, delayed until March – so less than 11.% then! P&O unbelievably wouldn’t face criminal charges for sacking staff. After polio was found in the sewage of 8 London boroughs, child vaccines became urgent. Water companies scandalously leaked 3bn litres a day and gave bosses 18% bonuses. Downpours didn’t alleviate droughts as instead of soaking into the ground, rain caused flash-flooding in Market Raisin and raw sewage dumps led to warnings on 60 beaches, largely along the south coast but also at Morecambe and Robin Hoods Bay. Signs warned Lake Windermere visitors of blooming algae – that’d be the poo then! 20,000 arriving in dinghies so far this year, the High Court heard an adviser told government Rwanda wasn’t safe for migrants. Concerns over the Zaporizhzhia nuclear plant mounting, Erdogan met Vlod in Lviv to agree parameters of an International Atomic Agency mission. Pro-Putin commentator Darya Duginer (daughter of Alexander aka Rasputin), was killed by a car bomb. Outspokenly in support of the invasion, Ukraine denied involvement. The demise of Wolfgang Peterson meant no more Das Boot.

A Shock To The System

Towards the end of the month, I battled with achiness, demotivation and occasional tearfulness, to submit my autumn contribution to Valley Life magazine and attend the blood test appointment. A bruise-like mark later marred the crook of my elbow. Phil said: “That’s normal – you should see druggies’ arms.” “I don’t want to look like a junkie! Nothing else untoward, I thought right, where’s my HRT then? Despite several attempts, I failed to speak to a GP let alone get any. The weather reverting to type, scantily-clad tourists still stalked the town, idiotically looking in windows. “Ooh! A shoe shop!” Did they not have shoes where they came from? Feeling low midweek, soft evening light tempted us on a stroll along the canal and back through the park where teenagers did what teenagers do. Over the bank holiday weekend, we finished the living room revamp. Cleaning paintbrushes outside, a Local Historian toddled up for the first proper chat ever. She informed us she founded Valley Life and invited us to look at her vast Alice Longstaff collection which was nice. Breaking from DIY Sunday, we foraged to and from the hilltop village, competing with hunting spiders and supping butterflies. Wild apples augmented our berry harvest. After baking a massive crumble, there was enough to make jam. Phil suggested adding liqueur to the last smidge creating delicious jambuca. Slimmer pickings for a co-op top-up, the mentally-challenged cashier asked for £22. “Eh? That’s an expensive cabbage!” Phil was disgruntled by a lack of bank holiday fun but I was pleased we’d made progress, unlike with birthday and vacation plans. Anxious on Tuesday at a lack of preparedness, I failed to find any £1 tickets promised by Northern Rail, booked flexible off-peak returns to Scarborough and faffed saving e-tickets. I also booked the Cypriot restaurant for a birthday lunch, inviting Waling Friend. The next day, we went up to hers via a hidden path which mysteriously wound round above our street. As I gave her a jar of jam, she remarked she already had loads from an honesty box and a recent glut of plums on her terrace; but ours was a triumph! Phil took measurements for a spare part and got her kettle working so she could make a cuppa. On departure, she gave me a book and a selection of tiny jars of sparkles for crafting, vowing to stop buying stuff from Wish. This prompted a tirade on rising costs and not having a government. “Don’t get depressed.” She counselled. “I’m always depressed; it’s just a question of degrees!”

That evening, Aslef announced strikes on 15^th and 17^th September. No returning a day early to avoid the 9.00 a.m. check-out, a second begging attempt to the holiday let office mercifully resulted in an extension.

UK covid cases still falling, kids had less. ONS said they’d closely monitor rates when schools returned. The Covid alert fell from level 3 to 2 – I didn’t even know that was still a thing! It belied over 500 weekly fatalities with the death rate 18% above average for the time of year. Filipino kids went back to school wearing masks. No live classes for 2 years, 10 year olds were illiterate. Japan in the midst of a wave since July, PM Fumio Kishida tested positive. Anti-lockdowners Martin Hockridge and 3 others got 12-month community orders for harassing Nick Watt in June 2021.

ONS data for July revealed excess deaths during the heatwave; 7% higher than the daily average. GPs prescribed walking and cycling to combat mental health issues in several test areas including Bradford. Hints they could prescribe gas discounts prompted Wes Streeting to guffaw that government had ‘lost the plot’. Cineworld bankrupt, they continued trading, pending re-structure. Asda bought 129 co-op forecourts and 3 sites to cut co-op debt, sparking competition concerns. Sainsburys announced the scrapping of ‘use by dates’ on yogurt and pledged £65m to keep prices down. Lidl would take on 10,000 extra staff, provide them free Christmas dinners, and sold wonky veg stunted by drought, advocating other supermarkets follow suit.

Inflation forecast to reach 18%, ahead of setting a new energy price cap, Octopus Energy boss Greg Jackson urged government to double support or freeze suppliers’ charges. Rishi insisted he had the right priorities and Keir, looking like a nob in a hardhat, said labour had a plan. EDF warned half of households could face fuel poverty in winter, while SSE’s Seagreen Wind Farm turbines started spinning. Chip shops facing ‘extinction’, as, amongst other things, the price of cod bizarrely went up because of the war, pub chains wrote to government for help in preventing closures, but Nads was on a beano in America discussing long-term solutions to the gas crisis instead of sorting out immediate problems. He helpfully told The Torygraph the ‘national economic emergency’ would likely last 2 years. The Small Business Federation sought pandemic-style aid for companies. As the energy price cap rose to £3,549, Cornwall insight who correctly predicted the amount, warned it’d be £5k by Jan. Rachel Reeves wanted it cancelled.

Responsible for the 80% hike, Ofgem brazenly said government must act. Saying they knew this was coming for months, Martin Lewis bade they let us know now what further help there’d be. BG pledged 10% of profits to help the poorest customers, leaving 95% with nothing extra. Nads working ‘flat out’ on options, Useless George reiterated it was wrong to implement any until we had a new PM, and it’d be at the top of their in-tray – I should hope so! Not mentioning the hike, Rishi spoke of a mistake empowering scientists in the coronavirus response and not paying enough attention to longer-term impacts of lockdowns such as kids missing school and the NHS backlog. Posing in a hi-viz jacket to look at fibre optic cables, Boris lied that he wasn’t shrinking from the issues and more help was coming. He’d done nothing useful and would be gone in a week! Keir appeared on Jeremy Vine to say public ownership of utility companies wouldn’t bring prices down, omitting to mention government could use profits to subsidise bills and invest in infrastructure and renewables. Resolution Foundation predicted a 10% fall in mean disposable income in 2022 and 14m in poverty 2023-4. Saying it’d affect 10m kids, Institute of Health Equity boss Prof Michael Marmot said it’d affect 10m kids and it wasn’t an ‘abstract discussion’.

Seeing no end to the awful state we were in, I added: ‘things can only get shitter!’ Phil reckoned Brexit would eventually sort out with a new government but not energy costs. The European strategy of relying on Russia worse and Gazprom cutting their gas supply allegedly for maintenance, Macron told the French it was the new normal. Nowt like a rich cunt telling you to get used to being poor! But at least they offered more short-term assistance.

Offered a £500 lump sum and 7% more pay, dockworkers at Felixstowe Port began an 8-day strike. Incensed at disrupted supplies, Daily Mail readers decried the communist plot. Wanting a 20% rise but offered 15%, barristers announced an indefinite strike from 5^th September. One who used to work in a coffee shop, echoed my line that she was better off as a barista. Urging labour to ‘get a spine’ and stand up for workers, Unite’s Sharon Graham called for co-ordinated or overlapping strikes to cause maximum impact.

Journalists offered 3% at Reach newspaper group (Mirror, Express and MEN) walked out. Further action in September was postponed. Postal workers struck again at the end August and 8^th & 9^th Sept. At least I could pretend that was the reason for hardly any birthday cards! In a keynote speech to the Edinburgh TV festival, Emily Maitlis said tory cronyism was at the heart of the BBC with former Mrs May spin doctor and adviser to GB News Robbie Gibb, on the board. A record 1,295 migrants in 27 boats, crossed the channel. Only 21 of 52,000 ‘illegal’ arrivals expelled post-Brexit, Nasty Patel launched a Rapid Removal Scheme to fly Albanian migrants back within hours. Yet another madcap idea that would never happen!

Ukraine independence day landed exactly six month after the start of the invasion. Security was tightened, celebrations banned and captured Russian tanks lined Kyiv streets. Boris went to parade with Vlod and get the order of liberty medal – what a twat! Meanwhile, Kharkiv and Chaplyne were shelled and Vlad The Impaler announced a 13% increase in the Russian army in 2023 – a far cry from glasnost on the day Mikhail Gorbachev died. With over 1,000 dead, Pakistan appealed for help dealing with floods. NASA released coloured-in pictures of Jupiter from the James Webb telescope and aborted take-off of the Space Launch System to the moon as part of the Artemis project. Due to a hydrogen leak, more failed attempts followed at the weekend. Cambridge and Caltech boffins made mice from stem cells.

Reference:

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

Part 103 – Ship Of Fools

“(They) broke the law and took us all for mugs. If they had any decency they would be gone by tonight” (Lobby Akinnola)

April Fools

The world ran by a bunch of fools, we didn’t mark the 1^st of the month with April Fools jokes. The grocery bill was mercifully not too hefty but the bags were. I cursed not asking for Phil’s help lugging them home. Motivated by persons unknown sweeping the steps at the side of the house, I cleared the gutter Saturday, failing to unblock the end. Cloudy all weekend, at least it didn’t rain during the free Crossings walk and workshop Sunday. In the art shed carpark, The Leader made introductions and dished out notebooks. We set off on familiar paths, noting a profusion of daffodils absent from the riverside 2 weeks ago, along with wood anemones. Returning on the lesser-travelled Crows path, a walker’s action volunteer related its rescue from developers by residents 12 years ago. Back at base, we got free tea and cake. Amazed such project funding still existed, Phil ate 3 pieces. The workshop proved inspiring although I remained sceptical about the over-use of descriptions. Featuring heavily in creative writing these days, I suspected it featured in university courses. Later, I selected photos for the project showcase including a haiga.ⁱ

The covid rate at 1:13, Prof Naismith said we were all likely to have BA.2 by summer. Easter hols starting for some, chaos ensued at ferry terminals and airports. Officially blamed on absence and covid checks, the shortages were also due to furloughed staff leaving. Security checks on 220 new recruits awaited, passengers missed flights at Manchester airport and boss Karen Not-So-Smart resigned. 45 buses and 2 Red Cross trucks headed to besieged Mariupol. Evacuation underway at last, a photo-journalist got shot. The Pope criticised ‘dictatorial leaders’ and said the world couldn’t ignore the migrant crisis. As the Oscars academy continued with disciplinary procedures, Will Smith resigned.

Barely able to move Monday morning, after 10 minutes stretching, I got back in bed. Phil looked offended when I didn’t laugh at his larks but I felt too awful. I made a big effort to fetch coffee and the laptop. Going up and downstairs exhausting, pains shot through my head and I became tearful. Covid infections still rising, the list of symptoms now included fatigue, exhaustion, aching, headaches, sore throats, shortness of breath, blocked or runny nose, loss of appetite, diarrhoea and nausea. So all of them! Wondering if I had it, Phil reckoned they were symptoms of living in England. In fact, additions were to stop people going to work with flu. Feeling overwhelmed by a ‘to do’ list, I posted the haiga, dispatched photos for the showcase, and worked on blogs. Except mealtimes, I stayed abed for 3 dull days.

5-11 year olds were offered low dose jabs. Oil terminal blockades by Just Stop Oil and XR into a third day, 100 protestors were arrested in Kingsbury. Lucy Powell called the privatisation of Channel 4 ‘cultural vandalism’. Tracy Brabin feared for Leeds jobs and ‘We Own It’ told Dreadful Doris to keep her hands off.

Less head pain and a bit cheerier Tuesday, I posted an entry on Cool Placesⁱⁱ , stopping writing when head fug set in. Phil went to the co-op. Another power cut meant no fresh milk or veg.

The covid Situation in Shanghai ‘extremely grim’, citizens suffered lockdowns and online food shortages. After visiting Bucha, Vlod addressed the UN security council, saying the worst war crimes since WW2 merited Nuremberg-style trials. Russian rep Vasily Nebenzya dismissed footage as fake and pro-Putin broadcaster Vlad Solovyov said they chose the name because it sounded like butcher. Red paint was poured in the propagandist’s Italian villa pools. Back after a glitch, Jeremy Vine appeared with hand-written signs. As Cuadrilla were given another year to explore fracking in Lancashire, Mike Gammon claimed reports of tremors were Russian propaganda. Err, no, it’s you believing in conspiracy nonsense!

Eking the last of the fresh milk, Phil made porridge on Wednesday and went to the other shop. Working on ‘Home from Home’ (see Cool Places 2ⁱⁱⁱ) took most of my day. After ineffectual quiet time, I went to the kitchen and panicked when I saw no milk, then spotted it in a bag. Prepping dinner together a bit fraught, I left him to it and dossed on the sofa. As he sent off photos for the showcase, he asked me to check details but I said it was far too late to think and went back to bed.

While Boris defended the National Insurance rise to fund the NHS and Goblin Saj pressed patients to return, 6 Yorkshire hospitals warned them to stay away from A&E, unless dying. In the latest sanctions, the UK added 8 Russian oligarchs to the list, froze Sberbank and Credit Bank of Moscow’s assets, banned outward investment and iron and steel imports, and vowed to stop coal imports by the end of the year. Sanctioning Russian PM Mikhail Mishustin and Putin’s 2 daughters Maryia Putina and Katerina Tikhonova, the US also cut off links with Sberbank as well as Alfa Bank.

Better but lacking energy Thursday, we were sat on the sofa when Phil noticed a reply from the Crossings workshop leader, even though he’d only sent his photos the night before. I was incensed until I saw she’d e-mailed me too. Supplies low, I headed to the market in the nithering wind. What a load of rubbish! No loo roll or fish, I got a few veg and went in the convenience store to find reduced chicken and bacon, so not a completely wasted trip.

The energy strategy mainly featured hydrogen, offshore wind and nuclear power. Great British Nuclear had a target to fulfil 25% of demand by 2060, building a power station a year. There was a £30m competition to make heat pumps, and a new round of licensing for north sea oil and gas from autumn, despite UN calls for rapid cuts in fossil fuel use. Onshore wind unpopular, it was encouraged with discounts for affected communities. Keir called it too little too late and: “a cobbled together list of things that should have been done over the last 10 to 12 years…(and) doesn’t even tackle important things like insulating homes…” Kwarteng had already ordered a report into the science and impact of fracking, but said the pause in extraction would stay unless new evidence showed it was ‘safe, sustainable and of minimal disturbance…’ A 23-mile lorry queue at Dover caused chaos on roads surrounding the M20. Suspended P&O crossings were blamed – nowt to do with Brexit! UNHRC threw Russia out. Ukrainian Foreign minister Dmytro Kuleba begged for weapons to save lives and prevent the war spilling over into other territories. Beloved Mr Ben creator David McKee died. My tiny kid-fish brain never clocked there were only 13 episodes!

No Joke

Friday, I worked on the journal and waited impatiently in the co-op for a man dithering and a cashier fiddling with buttons. Coming to help, Phil had a cheeky search for long-gone chocolate slabs on the easter display. Finding none, he said he’d have to go elsewhere but with 3 bars at home, I told him not to bother. Rising from a siesta, a marked drop in temperature presaged a loud crack of thunder followed by large balls of ice – thunder hail! It soon turned to rain. Enjoyment of dinner was marred by Phil telling me Rishi Rich was technically a US resident until recently, thus not paying UK tax. The scum held a Green Card until October 2021! He demanded an enquiry into the source of the leak. The opposition demanded ministers declared their residency status. Meanwhile, Ms. Murthy said she “understood the British sense of fairness”, coughed up UK tax on her income but remained a non-dom.

Covid rates still high across the UK, they rose in the Yorkshire region to 1:12, but fell slightly in Scotland. Thousands in hospital but not on ventilators, ONS said it was too soon to say infections were levelling off. A Russian missile hit a train station in Kramatorsk, killing 50 trying to evacuate before a full-scale offensive.

Phil answered a door knock early Saturday to be handed an easter ‘goody bag’ from the local carers’ group. Containing a fleece blanket, thermometer, first aid kit, jelly sweets, greetings card, fluffy chick and chocolate bar (making 4 in total), it resembled an elderly care package. Phil joked about sticking the thermometer up his bum. I cleaned the living room and he overhauled the kitchen lights, then rested in a bid to ease tummy ache. His discomfort persisted into Sunday. That didn’t stop him coming foraging in nearby woods. At the wild garlic patch, two women approached from below. Fearing competition, I pretended to take aim but they didn’t stop. Celandine nestled among the extended crop, creating a salad of yellow and green. After filling a bag, I picked up a couple of excellent twisty red branches, perfect for hanging decorative easter eggs. Keeping to the lower meandering path, we magically saw a couple of deer chasing each other. The Victorian stairways carpeted with crunchy leaves inspired the week’s haiga (for a fuller description, see Cool Places).

P&O said there’d be no Dover ferries until at least Friday. Stuck in queues and losing thousands a day, meat exporters called for the prioritisation of fresh produce. Boris went to walk the streets with Vlod and wave – why was he so popular in Kyiv? As he travelled by car, helicopter, military plane and train, a convoy of Russian tanks headed for Donbas. The Oscars harshly banned Will Smith for 10 years.

After posting the haiga Monday, Phil helped evict a mini zoo of larvae and spiders from the bathroom. Having not fixed the mini mixer, he made wild garlic pesto in the pestle and mortar.

High infection rates having a ‘major impact’, The NHS Confederation felt abandoned and urged government to rethink the ‘living with covid’ plan, reintroduce mitigation, and reinvigorate the public info campaign with renewed focus on mask-wearing and gathering outdoors. A Number 10 spokesperson said no; thanks to vaccinations, treatments and better understanding, it could be managed similarly to other viruses.

The Tuesday top-up shop was astronomical again. Was it due to small seasonal additions or rampant inflation? The Widower looked bemused by easter eggs. I advised on vegan options for his granddaughter. The weighty bags made my shoulder ache but it eased off after an unusual 5 minutes afternoon kip.

Smart Energy GB found rising costs led to habit changes and a UCL survey found us more worried by money (38%) than covid (33%). Anxiety and depression levels the highest for 11 months, 51% didn’t feel in control of their mental health. Unemployment fell to 3.8%, but with 76,000 economically inactive, there weren’t more jobs. The Met issued 30 more Partygate FPNs – Boris, Rishi and Carrie Antoinette were included for The Bumbler’s birthday bash. Apologising, he said he only went for 10 minutes and didn’t know it was a party. “He should contest the fine then,” advised Phil, “that would be hilarious in court!” The first sitting PM ever to be exposed breaking the law, the most Covid fines issued in a single street or workplace and more to come, it confirmed Downing Street was full of crooks. Keir said they’d broken the law, repeatedly lied to the British public, were totally unfit to govern and should resign. Lobby Akinnola of Bereaved Families agreed they had no authority, took us all for mugs and would be gone by nightfall if they had any decency. Approval ratings plummeting, Boris reportedly begged Rishi to stay to save Big Dog. Operation Red Meat looked more like mincemeat! Evil kids cartoon villain Michael Fabricant subsequently compared it to nurses having a cheeky post-shift drink, justice minister Lord Wolfson resigned and our MP Craigy Babe said they must go. They didn’t.

Wednesday, I baked an easter cake and wrote. Not seeming long since the last submission, a message from Valley Life had taken me by surprise. I considered the feature almost finished but sifting e-mails later in the week, noticed a word limit increase. How had I missed that for a whole year? I checked with The Owner who also passed on lovely feedback from ‘a neighbour’. Probing revealed it to be The Widower. As earlier rain cleared, I’d have loved an evening walk if I wasn’t dead tired. Instead, we watched a programme on BBC4 about Stonehenge’s removal from Wales – not stolen as the Welsh claimed, but taken by migrants.

Inflation rose to 7%. With pre-tax profits of £2.03 billion, Tesco gave staff 1.5% ‘thank you’ bonuses for coping with pandemic, supply chain and inflation challenges. Pay rises would come in July. Uncle Joe accused Putin of genocide and the presidents of Poland, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia visited Vlod.

Waking with a scratchy throat for the third morning running Thursday, Echinacea banished it. Opening the bedroom window, I heard then saw 2 typhoon jets zig-zagging over the next hill. The laptop misbehaving even after a restart, I persevered with writing but got head fug and hung washing on the line. Decorating Neighbour was sweeping the street. I asked if he’d done the steps. “I don’t go that far.” The co-op bustling, I forgot essential items. Counsellor Friend was stocking up before joining the great easter getaway. With no P&O ferries, railway engineering and airport queues, I wished her luck! Having a nightmare with veg falling on the floor and a cluttered sink, Phil eventually helped. Knackered, I bemoaned an almost-gone afternoon. An item in metro on easter laughter disappointingly contained no actual jokes.

UK covid infections fell except Wales, for the first time in 6 weeks, suggesting the surge of BA.2 had passed the peak. Bonnie Prince Charlie gave out Maundy Money on behalf of the queen. The latest madcap scheme to deal with dinghy crossings involved putting the navy in charge of the channel and sending migrants to Rwanda. Copied off Denmark, there were only 100 places under the ‘migration and economic development partnership’ aka offshoring single black men. Boris said the plan was possible because of Brexit freedoms but conceded it could be legally challenged. Keir called it unworkable, extortionate and an attempt to distract from Partygate. Phil mused it might not put people off: “After all, we’re always being told to ‘Visit Rwanda’ on the footie!” However, interviewees in a Dunkirk camp maintained the crossing was risky but they’d risked much already and pointed out accepting Ukrainians into our homes was double-standards – touché! The First of stricter UK reception centres at RAF Linton-on-Ouse slated to ‘open soon’, bewildered villagers were up in arms at no consultation. More sanctions were announced by the UK and EU, against Russian oligarchs who propped up the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republic. Imports of iron and steel and exports of quantum tech were banned.

Bridge of Sighs

After I was asked if the photos I sent for the Crossings expo were mine even with my name on, Good Friday, Phil was asked which object he’d written about. “Can that writing woman not read?” I sighed. He went shopping for the items I’d forgotten and flowers. As he tried to put them in a vase, I took over while he toasted hot cross buns for a hasty lunch. The beautiful roses stayed fresh-looking for over 2 weeks. Wending up to the upland village, we stopped in the playing fields where Phil allowed a rare snap, later garnering several ‘likes’ on FB. In time for a mid-afternoon performance, It was lovely to see the Pace Egg play after a 2-year absence, and also the kids and grandkids of Deceased Friend, for their traditional family get-together. Viewing obstructed, hearing became impossible during the final act because of the chattering classes. What was the point of going if they were more interested in bragging about themselves than listening? We made a hasty getaway and were heading downhill when Phil decided he needed a snack from the burger stall outside the pub. Hearing music, we wandered into the beer garden. Phil commandeered the one free table while I got the second pints of the day. As the novelty act doing bad cover versions wore thin, we retreated to the penfold. A man with 2 dogs hovered at the entrance before letting one loose to run round in an ellipse. He denied that explained rutted soil beneath a picnic bench. Methinks he lied! Despite extreme tiredness, night-time sleep was mediocre.

The next day, the Crossings expo preview invite landed in my in-box but not Phil’s. Narked at doing ‘work’ at the weekend, Phil said it wasn’t work. “It is for them, and on Easter Saturday to boot!” Still tired, I stayed home, hung sheets on the line and cleaned. Meaning to garden in the nice weather, I seemed to run out of time and mislaid flower seed packets. Phil popped to the shops. Town rammed with drinkers but no more than expected, we didn’t understand why this weekend was picked to hold a hipster beer festival. While he was out, I hastily made him a card featuring early spring blooms.

Birds tweeted in grey pre-dawn light Sunday. I sighed grumpily, wondering what they had to be so cheerful about and turned over until hazy sunlight made sleeping impossible. Dull-headed, I forgot it was easter, then remembered to print the card and give it to Phil with a pack of Haribo’s. He felt bad getting me no confectionary until I reminded him we had stacks of chocolate and he got me flowers.

To refresh fuddled brains, we took a leisurely stroll west on the canal, avoiding squawking geese protecting their nests, admiring showy tulips and chatting to The Biker outside his houseboat. Complementing the restoration of his granddad’s plane, we agreed they didn’t make tools like that anymore. A sign on the chicken farm honesty box helpfully informed us turkey eggs were like hens eggs but bigger! Tempted by a promise of refreshments in the pavilion, we stepped onto the diminutive stone bridge to the cricket club. No match on, it was closed. We rested on an equally picturesque bridge near the lock. Serving also as a crossing point, an arrow indicating Warland, prompted Phil to invent a film plot wherein puritan villagers refused to accept the civil war was over.

Archbishop Welby called the Rwanda ploy ‘ungodly’. Responding in The Times, Nasty Patel said it was ‘bold and innovative’ and challenged anyone to come up with a better idea. How about opening safe, legal routes for migrants? Charities lambasted the Nationality and Borders Bill for not preventing child trafficking. Theresa May later added she couldn’t support the policy on the grounds of ‘legality, practicality and efficacy’ as it split families and encouraged trafficking of women and children. Patel refused to reveal eligibility criteria. Gammons were incensed at small print allowing Rwandans to come to the UK in exchange.

The laptop very noisy Monday, Phil stopped the daft MS newsfeed. Accompanied by music, I started spring cleaning the study, finding the mislaid wildflower seeds behind the desk. Outside planting one in a pot, a neighbour from across the way asked if I knew which cat visited her garden. “They all look the same to me!” Unbelievably, The Great Escape was the best bank holiday film on telly all weekend, apart from Barabbas.

Face-masks no longer mandatory but ‘strongly advised’ in Scotland, spotted without one at a barbers, Sturgeon was again called a hypocrite. Police had words. In their latest covid wave, Shanghai reported 3 deaths bringing the overall total to 4,641 – still lots less than the UK. Shats launched the gimmicky half-price rail tickets wheeze with a cheesy YouTube video^iv.

Tuesday a boring round of chores, writing and shopping, in the evening, I returned a missed call from Aunty. She liked the old postcards of her locality I’d sent her with easter greetings. Found in a charity shop, I promised to send more if they turned up. Using the last of the bargain chicken to make soup, we’d got 4 dinners for £2.50 (and a lunch). The affordable alternative to veganism!

Swiss Toni said Boris’ FPN was like getting a speeding ticket. Ed Davey spluttered that was ‘an insult to bereaved families’. Alastair Campbell contested the claim Blair got a speeding fine while in office, pointing out security disallowed driving. It later emerged The Bumbler racked up £4,000 in speeding tickets while at GQ magazine. In the commons, he repeatedly apologised to MPs, acknowledged the ‘hurt and anger caused’, but insisted it didn’t occur to him it breached rules. Keir said he dragged everyone down to his level. Saying he wasn’t worthy of holding office, Mark Harper publicised a letter to the 1922 committee. Referral to the Privileges Committee and more fines imminent, ministers repeated pleas to await the full Sue Gray report. The economic forecast bleak with the war and covid, the IMF judged the impact on the UK particularly severe with growth down to 1.2% in 2023 because of the ‘triple whammy’ of fuel, food and tax rises. ¾ of civil servants still working from home, Rees Moggy told them to go back to the office. The missive including tables of who was working where, FDA union’s Dave Penman said ministers were ‘vindictive’ and behaving like luddites’, when the private sector embraced flexible working.

On PMQs Wednesday, Boris conveyed 96^th birthday greetings to the queen and informed us he was going to India. Keir said once the cameras were off for the public apology, Boris went to his backbenchers to privately blame everyone else and say Welby wasn’t critical enough of Putin, when actually the archbishop said the Ukraine invasion was ‘an act of great evil’. He invited the PM to apologise for slander, getting a flat ‘no’ in response. Ian Blackford claimed 82% of Scots thought Boris lied. While the commons debated the Buildings Safety Bill, protestors complained it didn’t help everyone affected by the cladding scandal.

The NOA found government departments uncoordinated on foreign travel rules with no assessment of the impact on the industry. 1:9 workers in insecure jobs, Frances O’Grady joined Zero Hours Justice’s Julian Richer and Living Wage Foundation’s Katharine Chapman to criticise delaying the Employment Bill announced in 2019: “Boris Johnson has done nothing to show he is serious about upgrading workers’ rights,” she said. 1.5 million cancelled streaming subs. Prime and Netflix the last to go, did it explain splitting the current season of popular Ozark? Just Eat and gambling firm 888 also haemorrhaged customers. A longitudinal study confirmed what I already knew – anti-depressants didn’t improve long-term quality of life.

Holed up in the Azovstal Steel works, Mariupol die-hards worried they were in their final hours and Vlod offered to exchange them for captured Russian soldiers. The next day, Putin claimed victory in the city and ordered a ring around the steel plant. Moscow tested a new ICBM to make anyone threatening them ‘think twice’. Satan 2 wasn’t yet ready for deployment. The Inflow of oil and gas profits bolstering the Rouble, Germany planned to stop using Russian energy products by the end of the year. Wimbledon banned Russian and Belarussian tennis players.

Thursday, I tweaked the Valley Life article, cleaned the bedroom and hung sheets on the line. Bright and breezy, they twisted up but dried quick. Phil went to Leeds just after I went to town for a whizz round shops. Picking up bin-end wine and a ½-price easter egg, I waited in the convenience store for a man chucking stuff in a sack. What looked like a big shop, was actually parcels for delivery. Wanting to linger in sun, pedestrian areas were fully occupied thanks to school hols. A dumb couple stood on the bridge, commenting on the number of bridges. ‘Err, there are rivers, you morons!’ I muttered. I went home to weed the garden. The Widower walked his dog past. Enquiring how he was coping, he replied ‘okay’. The underlying sigh belied his brave face. Thanking him for his nice words to Valley Life, he said they weren’t ‘nice’, but true. How lovely! Out of breath and fatigued, I went to lie down and retired early for a bath that night. Suffering insomnia, the meditation tape eventually sent me into unrefreshing sleep.

The Valneva vaccine was approved for UK use, making 6 in total. A man tested covid-positive on 505 consecutive days before dying, suggesting variants could evolve in persistent cases. Medics wanted better treatments for the vulnerable. While Boris posed in a turban, William Wragg echoed other back-benchers sick of defending the indefensible. A motion to refer Boris to the Privileges Committee carried without a vote. Designs to put the investigation on hold until police inquires concluded, were scrapped. The Met said no fines would be issued before elections 5^th May because of ‘restrictions around communicating’. Local candidates included Freedom Alliance – Stop the Great Reset. Their concerns of a global public-private partnership had some validity but not the conspiracy view that covid was a mechanism to control us all!

Sinking Ships

Phil had even less shuteye so we both felt unrest Friday. Rushing out, we barely paused to greet new people on the street or admire profusive spring flowers. At the Crossings show preview, project workers and the workshop leader directed us to our group’s work on the outer walls of small sheds. We acknowledged fellow participants and extricated ourselves from an over-friendly acquaintance. Of other exhibits, children’s print work stood out. One kid made a print of Blackpool, cos nothing says nature like Blackpool!

We congratulated the friendly printer responsible on training the next generation. Outdoor displays featuring wood, natural paint and ceramics, were much easier to photograph than indoors where pictures were defaced by reflections.

Art appreciation over, we followed a sign to ‘The Crags’. Previously unexplored, we climbed the curated curious before a protracted return route. A flagging Phil griped of miles to go so we switched to an upper path. I went home to unshod hot, tired feet. He went to the shop, ran into the over-friendly acquaintance again and got yet more ½-price easter eggs (for a fuller description, see Cool Places).

Wanting a trade deal by Diwali, Boris hinted at more immigration from India into high skilled jobs in return for reduced tariffs on British machinery. He also pledged to help them build fighter jets to lessen reliance on Russia but didn’t push Nodi on neutrality. At the JCB plant in Gujarat, owned by tory donor Lord Bamford, he didn’t mention the destruction of Muslim’s homes by their bulldozers.

Drained after a long afternoon out, I stayed home Saturday apart from a trip to the co-op. Very quiet for a weekend, there was hardly any veg but plenty of oil, despite reports of rationing. Along with potatoes, cereal and chicken feed, it apparently all came from Ukraine. Nowt to do with Brexit or P&O ferries! Was the war also responsible for HRT shortages? At the kiosk, my mate’s eyebrows shot up as a colleague told him his pregnant partner wanted a gender reveal party. I observed: “but what if it doesn’t want to be that gender? ‘How very dare you assume my gender before I’m even born?’ It would say.” An eavesdropping woman added: “Nothing surprises me anymore!”(see Tales from the Co-op^v).

On Sunday Morning, the hideous Piers Morgan said firms had a dilemma balancing staff being in offices and at home. Oliver Dowdy maintained Boris gave a ‘clear explanation’ of events leading to fines and we should balance that with other matters. In an unfortunate analogy, he said the PM still had ‘fuel in the tank to deliver for this country’. Asked how much more of the ‘drip, drip’ they could withstand, he blathered about focusing on the national security crisis. What was he on about? The war was in Ukraine not the UK!

We went in search of blossom in the park. At various stages of growth, some had already blown off and dandelions outnumbered the cherry. Having noted the music café was rebranded ‘Charlie’s – not attracting the young hip crowd, but OAPs supping a nice cup of tea – we investigated other changes in town. With a closed bank now a daft pub, several ice cream sellers and a pointless melts outlet, Phil remarked: “It’s full of people from out of town selling crap to people from out of town – like a northern Cotswolds!” However, we got more bin-end wine and bargain easter eggs (the most I’d ever had, even in childhood). Coming back, we came across German Friend and empathised on the struggles of processing the passing of friends.

Some tories told MOS that Rayner, lacking Boris’ Etonian debating skills, distracted him by crossing and uncrossing her legs at PMQs. What tripe! She could make mincemeat of him! She tweeted: ‘Women in politics face sexism and misogyny every day…This is the latest dose of gutter journalism..” She later added it was classist too. A colleague said: “Just when you think the Conservative party can’t get any lower they outdo themselves. (They) clearly have a problem with women in public life.” Even Boris decried the piece. Meanwhile, 56 sex misconduct allegations included 3 cabinet ministers and 2 shadows. As ship Albatroz sunk, 47 barrels of diesel created a slick, threatening The Galapagos’ giant turtles.

Wobbly and heavy headed, I started to exercise Monday morning, when a throat niggle progressed to my ear and nose. Annoyed at a second bout of illness that month, Phil reckoned I’d caught covid at the art show. Feasible, seeing as the last one immediately followed the workshop, but vile phlegm implied the usual sinus lark.

Either way, it rendered me bed-ridden for much of the week, apart from essential chores and spells on the sofa.

After posting a haiga and Cool Places updates, I got head fug and settled down with a book when Phil noisily announced he was going for a rest. I ask you! I slept for 1 minute.

Idiot Epstein informed Jeremy Vine that Rishi was rich because he was good with money. Hmm – It’s easy to be good with money when you have piles to start with! Rees-Moggy put memos on empty Whitehall desks saying ‘I look forward to seeing you in the office soon’. In a rare moment of not talking claptrap, Dreadful Doris called the passive-aggressive bullying ‘Dickensian’. Life expectancy down in deprived areas over the last 3 years, covid was partly blamed. In Kyiv, Lloyd Austin and Anthony Blinken said ‘Ukraine is succeeding’ and promised more munitions. Following weekend attacks on the Azovstal steel plant, Russian strikes targeted fuel and rail facilities. After Micron was re-elected president of France, cops killed 3 protestors.

Tuesday, I okayed the Valley Life proof and worked on blogs. Suffering brain fog, I stopped writing and submitted photos to the larger arts festival exhibition. Phil went to the co-op. Disturbed by the door slamming on his return and loud talking on the street below, so-called ‘quiet time’ was a write-off. As he’d bought 3 kinds of spuds, I cooked loads for dinner, getting backache and narky.

The Bumbler convened Cabinet to invent ideas to address the cost of living crisis without spending extra money. They came up with encouraging more uptake of child and pension credits, cutting import tariffs and childcare ratios and extending MOT’s to 2 years. The Guardian accused them of trashing health and safety. Boris threatened to privatise DVLA and the passport office. Delightfully-named Ian Snowball, landlord of the Showtime bar, Huddersfield, faced a £6,000 fine for allowing a punter to sip ale while standing to play beer pong during restrictions. Talk about disproportionality! IPPR reported 400,000 quitting work due to ill health, leading to ‘terminally low productivity’. Elon Musk bought twitter for $44 bn. Right-wingers thrilled by the promise of less moderation, others feared more fake news, bigotry and conspiracy drivel. After The Insolvency Service began criminal and civil proceedings over redundancies, shit-show P&O failed to further reduce wages. Intending to restart the Dover-Calais ferry Spirit of Britain for freight from Wednesday, The European Causeway lost power half an hour from Larne and limped back. As more weapons were sent to Ukraine, Serge warned of ‘world war by proxy’ and again raised the prospect of nuclear attacks. Antonio Guterres went to Moscow, incensing Vlod by not visiting Kyiv first.

Barrels of Fun

Wednesday, I fetched the coffee, for which Phil tossed me 10p. It disappeared like a crap magic trick. At PMQs, Keir attacked the government’s approach to the cost of living crisis. Boris threw out figures and metaphors. Keir quipped that was his fab debating skills we’d heard about! He then asked ironically if being the only country to raise taxes had made things better or worse? Ian Blackford cited Trussell Trust research that 830,000 children depended on food parcels and urged him to look for ideas beyond the cabinet, such as raising child payments like in Scotland. He could also have cited food parcel demand (up 44% in Yorkshire), 59% of the population making lifestyle changes to cut spending and 18% having no disposable income. Cathy Gardner and Fay Harris won a high court case against PHE and The Cock for discharging untested patients to care homes where their dads’ died of covid. Invited by Daisy Cooper to apologise, Boris insisted they didn’t know the virus was transmitted asymptomatically. Court evidence proved otherwise. A PHE paper passed to Sage early 2020 concluded ‘asymptomatic transmission cannot be ruled out’, another warned ‘pre-symptomatic transmission…constituted a very substantial proportion of all transmission,’ and top medic Pat Vallance said likewise on the Today Programme, 13^th March.

Fatigued by the antics, I rested. At least external noise was more ambient this time. At coffee time, Phil cadged from my depleting filter supplies, saying he’d buy me more if I gave him 50p. A bargain, I said he could have the 10p back, which had turned up among the sheets.

Rayner called Lord Geidt clearing Rishi of any wrongdoing an ‘utter whitewash’. Editor David Dillon refused to meet Lindsay Hoyle. Carol Brexit informed Jeremy Vine that 4 tories heard the Ashton MP jest about using her legs to distract Boris. The Chief Whip promised action against a tory caught watching porn. After letting rumours accusing others to circulate, Neil Parish was suspended Friday, said he got onto the porn site by accident looking for tractors but re-visited it, then resigned Saturday. Following more EU sanctions against 50 oligarchs and companies including Gazprom, Russia cut the gas off to Bulgaria and Poland. How did you sanction a company you traded with? Greenpeace called imports of 1.9 million oil barrels since the start of the war, ‘utterly disingenuous’ when the UK vowed less reliance on Russian supplies. GSK reported a £9.8 billion turnover in the first quarter, thanks in part to anti-viral drug Xevudy. Meanwhile, treatments for tremors involved zapping neurons and the first person treated for Parkinson’s with a Deep Brain Stimulation implant, declared a miracle. York councillors divested Prince Andy of Freedom of the City.

Eyes shutting while reading, I hoped to be less fatigued Thursday. Sadly not. Phil went to the market for bog paper (only loose rolls available) and fishy bits. The shrimps were from Holland. Full import checks on European goods further delayed, supermarkets were happy, but exporters facing red tape and ports having built unnecessary infrastructure, weren’t. The benefits of Brexit eh, Moggy? Was that taking back control?

A tweeter thought it fun to relabel BA ‘British Wokeways’ for refusing to fly migrants to Rwanda over fears of a backlash. Charter flights would add to an already astronomical £120 million for the scheme. A whopping £30,000 each, Phil reckoned it’d be cheaper to give people the money to go home. In more commons sleaze, Jamie Wallis was charged with a hit and run, Imran Khan belatedly submitted a resignation letter (after getting another full month’s pay), Liam Byrne was suspended for 2 days, and a female MP was called ‘a secret weapon’ as all the men wanted to sleep with her. Ben Wally said they should avoid ‘toxic bars’ and Sue Braverman claimed there wasn’t a ‘pervasive culture’ of misogyny but some bad apples. Yes, but it only took one to rot the whole barrel! Keir said he took all allegations seriously and hoped colleagues had confidence in the complaints procedure. On QT, Jon Ashworth agreed the cost of living was the most important issue but connected to Partygate because tories were disconnected and dismissed people’s real concerns as ‘silly’. Mims Davies wittered about jobs and floundered trying the defend the migrant policy against accusations of being ‘pick and choose’. After telling Iain Dale Channel 5 had thrived when it was privatised (it was never public!) an unusually sober Dreadful Doris came on Newscast to prate about impartiality and privatising Channel 4 even though 96% were against it.

Friday, Phil said he needed a haircut: “I look like I’m from a Britpop band.” “No you don’t. Mines’ worse.” “It does need colouring in.” “Thanks!” I sat abed writing until hungry and hot, considered getting lunch but he brought it to me. Perhaps staying put was a good thing, because I felt much better on a bright Saturday. I went to the rag market to buy haberdashery from friendly stall-holders then waited for Phil to come to an exhibition of historic photos by a local celeb. On the way, we were waylaid by falling blossom and dandelions. I later created a Facebook album but the dazzling yellow blooms went unappreciated. Balking at a £5 suggested donation, we contributed by purchasing juice. Phil’s photography mate had planned the showing for 2020. They bemoaned work being on hold since covid and I sympathised with his travails being interviewed for a documentary. I could talk for England but stick me in front of camera, I was dumbstruck!

550 Network Rail upgrade projects over the bank holiday weekend, cleaners and conductors’ strikes meant TPE only ran a small number of (dirty) services. Roads were predicted to be quiet. A good job with herds of animals on the M62 at Eccles and Brighouse. Madelaine McTernan who worked on the covid vaccine rollout, was appointed HRT tsar. Demand up thanks to The Davina Effect, I felt I was missing out not taking it.

References:

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

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

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

iv. Shat’s gimmicky rail sale video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iheo0km3xHE

v. Tales from the Co-op: Notes on life, the universe and stuff that sucks: Tales from the Co-op Vol 5 (maryc1000.blogspot.com)

Part 93 – Ominous

”We’re in the most difficult, most uncertain time, perhaps of the whole pandemic, certainly since March 2020” (Jeremy Farrar)

The laptop irritatingly noisy since Sunday evening, I delayed a restart until I’d posted blogs. Opening mail, we giggled at auntie’s lovely Christmas card of Jesus and the holy virgin Mary. I took recycling out, to be assailed by a keen icy wind then turned the laptop back on to work on the journal but as the racket returned, I fumed, developed head fug, wrapped Phil’s presents and rested. He later sorted the issue, giving instructions for next time it happened.

Ravi Gupta called 12,000 Omicron cases a ‘really critical situation’. On BBC Breakfast, Stephen Reicher cited polls showing 60% thought nightclubs should shut and while awaiting government action, curbed Christmas parties. He advised not gathering before festive dinners: “The more we wait, the more we’ll have to do.” The queen cancelled Christmas at Sandringham. At a (not) emergency cabinet meeting, Witless and Vallance briefed ministers. They considered options from limiting contact to curfews to full lockdown but imposed none. A spokesperson said there was a balance between lives and livelihoods and Boris promised he wouldn’t hesitate if required. “You already are!” I ranted Some predicted lockdown #4 from 25^th December. The wuss wouldn’t dare do it at Christmas. Rishi Rich not keen, Keir wanted plans to keep schools open and help hospitality businesses who demanded immediate support. As images emerged of a Downing Street ‘garden party’ 15^th May 2020, Rabid Raab insisted, it wasn’t a party as they wore suits; only a bit of cheese and wine ‘after a long day’. Others declared it a work meeting and the garden a workplace. Rachel Reeves called it unacceptable and Jo Goodman of Bereaved Families railed the ‘constant, flagrant disregard’ was exhausting, Germany imposed a 2-week quarantine for UK travellers. Utopia 56 brought a law suit against French and British coastguards for allowing 27 people to drown in a dinghy. Allegedly not answering distress calls, police later watched more flimsy boats sail into the channel. XR locked themselves together at the home office in Glasgow demanding an end to the ‘hostile environment policy towards migrants’. New Chilean president Gabriel Bolic vowed to tackle poverty, inequality and climate change.

The winter solstice portentously fell on 21.12.21. I went to the co-op for a sizeable shop so I didn’t have to go back later in the week. Everything but chestnuts, I crossed to the organic shop for just enough of the extortionate things for actual Christmas dinner. Getting head fug again in the afternoon, I abandoned writing, finalised the secret card (see ‘Snow Crows’ below) and selected images to adorn gifts. Printing was hampered when the laptop declared the printer offline, the desktop was excruciatingly slow, and the colour ink already low! I actually slept for a ½ half in the afternoon, woke groggy and rallied with coffee. I’d just gone to the loo when there was a quiet rap at the door. At a second one, I shouted and clattered down the stairs so they didn’t disappear. A young man from Community Carers bore gifts. “I already got one. A card with wildflower seeds.” “Have another.” The Festive bag contained a tiny yellow plant, crackers, mince pies, 2 small wrapped gifts and a card made by kids. It really brightened an otherwise tedious day!

Transmission of Omicron ‘eye-wateringly high’, Jeremy Farrar of the Wellcome Foundation warned it was the most difficult and uncertain time of the whole pandemic. But Paul Hunter said as people changed behaviour and workplaces ‘broke up’ (sic) for Christmas, the increase slowed, predictions of 10 million cases by New Year were unlikely, there was no need for lockdown and further restrictions would only delay illness and prolong impact on health services and wellbeing. The highest number in Lambeth, 20 year olds were blamed. Refusing to rule out extra measures before Christmas, Rishi announced more money for hospitality – £1bn included cash grants of up to £6,000 per premises, help with sick pay for SMEs and a £30m culture recovery fund for theatres and cinemas. £150m would go to devolved administrations. Later, Boris proclaimed we could go ahead with Christmas. Prof. Reicher called the decision ‘unhinged’. Rail operators cancelled trains because of staff sickness and isolation. Problems were expected to last until 3^rd January. Wales banned spectators from sporting events. This would also be the case in Scotland from Boxing Day where Hogmanay was off. Extra money went to Yorkshire cities to ramp up the booster prog. John Apter, chair of the Police Federation who spoke out against the ‘canteen culture’ of misogyny in the force, was suspended amidst sexual harassment claims.

Warning Signs

Bitingly cold and grey, I awoke to an ominous red dawn Wednesday. Unrested after a crap night, I managed a few exercises, fetched brekkie and worked on the journal before calling on Elderly Neighbours. The Husband said they were delayed returning from hospital due to traffic Sunday evening, explaining the mystery of carers getting no reply. They were with The Wife right now. Glad she was home for Christmas, I asked him to convey our regards. I hacked at greenery to bring in while Phil went mystery shopping.

Over 100,000 new cases, Boris was urged to outline a post-Christmas covid strategy. Health minister Gillian Keegan banally said “we can’t predict what the data is going to tell us before we’ve got the data.” Jon Ashworth responded: “People need to know where they stand. Businesses have got to make decisions about what stock to get in in the runup to new year’s eve…we’ve still got confusion.” Tony Blair attacked the government for gambling and the unvaccinated for irresponsibility. The requirement to self-isolate was reduced from 10 to 7 days with a proviso of negative LFTs on days 6 & 7. Dr. Simon Clarke told Jeremy Vine cases fell because testing capacity was at saturation point rather than because they’d past the peak. 5-12 year olds could get a 1/3 dose of vaccine while 16-17 year olds could get boosted. The WHO called for prioritisation of boosters to the vulnerable worldwide to address inequities. On Channel 4 news, Catherine Smallwood said richer countries needed to stop buying them all up and do more to roll vaccines out globally. the emergence of Omicron proved it was in their interests to do so. Jonathan Chew who accosted Witless in June, appeared in court via video link wearing a dressing gown and claiming he had covid. The judge called him cavalier to which Chew replied, ‘what does that mean?’ Was he thick or having a laugh?

A break in metro news from Thursday, I did the free puzzles and spent the rest of the day cleaning, posting cards to neighbours, sending greetings to Facebook friends and baking. The puff pastry acted really weird. I used what I could to make sausage rolls then made mince pies, panicking when they stuck to the oven shelf. Phil had popped to the shops again. He returned to help free the pies, manipulate leftover pastry into cute stars and decorate the cake (see Yummy Cake below).

119,789 new cases, 2/3 of people in hospital hadn’t been vaccinated. Covidiots begged for the jab when it was too late! Based on early real-world data, UKHSA confirmed Omicron caused milder illness than Delta and boosters gave extra protection, but waned after 10 weeks. Were we in for endless top-ups? Homelessness Prevention Grants of £316 million were made available to local authorities. Andy Bunman came on BBC breakfast to say the scheme in Manchester really helped the homeless and the government made the right decision not going into lockdown at Christmas. I wasn’t sure his boss agreed. Wholesale gas prices reached another record high, meaning domestic customers could pay 50% more next year. Yikes!

Slightly iffy Friday, I perked up with echinacea. After breakfast with apple stars, we prepped the bedroom for Phil to do my hair; a bit cramped but warmer than the South Pole. I then hung a few final decorations, pre-cooked veg and took a pile of rubbish out. Phil went secret shopping for a final time and wrapped my pressies, while I painted my nails, watched posh carols from Kings, and listened to Dvorak symphony no. 9 in E minor (the one with the Hovis song). In the evening, we drank wine, watched films including the traditional Nightmare Before Christmas and marked midnight by munching celebrations.

A record 122,186 new cases, 1:35 Brits and 1:20 Londoners were infected. But a mini-wave of first and second jabs was reported 15-21 December. Lad Baby’s single achieved an historic 4^th successive Yuletide number in the pop charts.

Blustery all night, Christmas Day started windy and grey. Our day began in customary fashion with more posh music, a delicious breakfast and gift-giving. The Queen talked of a difficult year losing those close, the importance of celebrating the season, valuing what we had and looking forward to her platinum jubilee year. The photo-montage studiously avoided snaps of Andrew, Harry & Megan. Dinner a lot of effort despite the prep, I timed it for after Mary Poppins Returns. Of course it wasn’t. Gone 6 by the time the Lidl duck was cooked, it was very tasty. We followed it with Prosecco, trifle, chocolates and Irish coffee. Snow magically fell at 11.55, so sort of a white Christmas. A shame it wasn’t the night before like on the telly!

The snow stuck but very grey, foggy and freezing, we stayed in Boxing Day. I edited the journal and took photos of wintry scenes through the window. Prettily fronted by money plant blooms, it provided haiga materialⁱ . Late afternoon, I felt really weird and almost fell asleep despite the coffee and yummy cake. Tackling the duck carcass difficult, Phil came to the rescue. I rested on the sofa and improved slightly to make stock.

Sitting down for dinner, Phil found his seat soaking wet. As he hurried off to change, I realised I’d spilt stock on the table and it’d dripped onto the chair. Afterwards he seemed cold with shock. Apologising for the trauma, I cheered him up with tangerine faces on the trifle.

Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland all brought in new restrictions for hospitality and leisure, with limits on numbers and social-distancing. Prominent deaths included Janice Long (Christmas day) and Desmond Tutu (Boxing Day). A week of mourning for the Archbishop entailed bell-tolling and table mountain lit up in purple. The EFL had decided to keep all premier league fixtures but no weekend Leeds game as 5 players tested positive for covid, Phil cried “Hurrah!”

Bank holiday Monday (confusingly also called Boxing Day), was foggy and cold after the snowmelt. I switched on the bedroom telly for the 1954 version of A Star Is Born which predictably roused Phil. Both feeling peculiar, we doubted it was the small amount of whiskey we’d drunk. After posting blogs, I disposed of rubbish, giving me chance to nosey at new people in the house below. Also visible through the kitchen window, net curtains were soon drawn but not before I eyed the heavy archaic furniture. Were they family heirlooms? Stunned from the excessively rich weekend food, I used the stock to make healthy soup adding leftover stuffing balls which I called ‘crumplings’. I slept well for a few hours that night, only to wake early Tuesday with a sore throat and snotty nose. I should have heeded the warning signs of the preceding days.

Boris met scientific advisers to go over the stats and decide on extra measures. Subsequently ruling them out before the end of the year, Goblin Saj said they ‘wouldn’t hesitate’ (again!) and told us to celebrate NYE outdoors. Labour demanded sight of the data informing the decision. All over 12’s In New York had to be vaccinated to access indoor entertainment.

Prophet of Doom

Definitely afflicted by classic sinusitis Tuesday, It didn’t bode well for the end of 2021. Phil made porridge with water to conserve depleted milk supplies. The glue-like softness eased my throat. After bathing, I put PJs back on, made coffee and fetched the laptop. Depressed and annoyed at being bedridden, especially as the temperature rose and it would have been nice to get outside, I killed time writing, compiled ‘Top Films 2021’ⁱⁱ and slept briefly late afternoon. Phil went to the co-op for basic supplies and catered. At least the weather was crap Wednesday so we wouldn’t have gone to the carousel in Halifax anyway. Warning his mushroom pasta dish might be different to mine, Phil’s version was decidedly more roux-ified. He just couldn’t help channelling the great man.

Consequences of Christmas mixing not yet seen, new covid cases didn’t rise as much as last week. Evidence emerged that Omicron led to less hospitalisations with ICU bed-occupancy well ‘below threshold’. Even so, 10,500 hospital cases was an increase of 2,000 on the previous day with 1,300 daily admissions compared to 900 last week. Doctors and chemists warned of a lack of tests due to increased demand. The shortages threatened to render ‘key workers’ unable to work in hospitals and schools Staff isolation impacting, Hopson said NHS providers redeployed staff to compensate. Government continued to keep a ‘close eye’ on the data. The Chinese space station twice avoided collision with Elon Musk’s junk. A good job they had their eyes on!

Thursday, I was glad of Phil’s help changing sheets so I could rest in a clean bed. It took me the rest of the day to finish cleaning the bedroom in small chunks and put old postcards he got me round the mirror. Phil went shopping. The butchers shut all week (who knew?) he bought a rather large lump of lamb from the co-op for the weekend. In the evening, I tried to stay up to watch a telly film but had to go back upstairs halfway through. I woke several times during the night, freaked out by weird curtain shadows.

Both disorientated by the darkness Friday morning, I had improved slightly and ditched the PJs for floppy clothes, but stayed mainly abed working on the laptop. In anticipation of not being well enough to meet on her birthday, Phil framed prints for Walking Friend and I wrapped the gifts before lunch in bed. We took turns prepping dinner in the afternoon but predictably it was me who ended up putting the joint in the oven meaning a long spell out of bed that evening. Of course, the lamb took miles longer to cook than indicated and he managed to burn cabbage in the microwave but it was edible with lashings of gravy and mint sauce. We drank pink cava, ate pudding and watched films, pausing when we heard fireworks to look out the window and see some above chimneys. We switched to BBC 1 for the big bongs and Thames display entailing too much VR and an awful music melange. Why couldn’t they put a nice symphony on instead of that ADHD stuff? Very tired, we pathetically failed to even finish the wine before retiring.

40% of NHS staff off sick, 1:30 Brits were infected the week before Christmas. On the warmest NYE on record, Trafalgar Square was cordoned off and Northern Ireland banned dancing. “What’s new?” Guffawed Phil. The Scots and Welsh were warned not to travel to England. Able to walk across borders in some places, they probably wouldn’t be affected by the Cross Country trains strike.

Nostradamus’ predictions for 2022 included increasing food prices, droughts and floods, the rise of AI and cryptocurrency. The corvids would have a laugh at that, unlike the end of November when they huddled in trees perturbed by the snow!

Still ailing on NYD, the top of my leg really hurt. Over coffee in the living room, we tried to decipher an old map Phil got me. 18^th century sat-nav was very hard to decipher! I went back to bed, worked on the laptop and texted Walking Friend saying we might not be well enough to meet for her birthday and offered to take her out another time. Not the most exciting start to 2022, we reminisced about new years of ages past. I remembered one involving drugs, lots of whiskey, staying up until 6.00 a.m., rising at 4.00 p.m. and eating only a piece of bread. He recalled another where we sat opposite the marina as it was getting light. “I don’t remember that. But I’m not surprised; I must have drunk gallons if we were still out at that time!”

Later, we watched Death to 2022. Not containing as many laughs as the prequel, it would have been funnier if it was focused on Britain rather than the USA. Mind you, it was hard to satirise the years’ events. On the eve of the grace period ending, there was absolutely no mention of it on mainstream media, civil servants were banned from using ‘the B word’ and The Bumbler omitted any mention of Northern Ireland and red tape, boasting of crown stamps on pint glasses. Cheers!

Achiness persisting, at least my legs were less painful Sunday. Sunny and warm first thing, Phil quizzed me on seeing Walking Friend. Feeling harangued, I texted birthday greetings and suggested meeting for a drink later. She predicted rain (correctly as it turned out) and wasn’t sure they’d be out long. I invited her to call round for her gifts. Almost on cue, a fine drizzle descended. I brought the laptop down which was progress from staying abed. I edited the journal and as I reminisced on the one short break of 2021, used an evocative photo of Ulverston Canal rolling bridge for a haiga. We listened to the new Stranglers record I got Phil (good but old-mannish in places). Thinking I heard a door knock, I saw no one and Phil said it was a crackle on the vinyl. Then I noticed 2 missed texts off Walking Friend. I rang to be told she’d knocked and gone home. Truly sorry I missed her, I offered to take gifts up but she said come out Wednesday instead.

The Omicron wave over its peak in South Africa, a fire caused extensive damage to the parliament building. Cyril called it devastating, but at least he was out of isolation. The mutant expected to disrupt UK supply chains (nowt to do with Brexit!), ministers instructed the public sector to prepare for staff absences of up to 25%. As secondary pupils were told to wear face-masks, teachers demanded more such as air cleaning units and help with testing to stop the cancellation of exams for a third year running.

References:

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

ii. Top films 2021: https://maryc1000.blogspot.com

Part 79 – Something in the Air

“…inflation has reached its highest level in a decade. For ordinary workers and families, prices are going up at the very moment when they can least afford it. (they) need more than just a winter plan for covid; they need a winter action plan to fight a Tory poverty pandemic that is only going to get worse” (Ian Blackford)

Gas and Air

The next two weeks, summer continued. Monday 6^th, I cheered up after a bad night with a laugh at Max Gammon and Ickle Owen Jones arguing on Jeremy Vine. Phil said they made a great couple! After the usual chores and blog-posting, I tried printing info for our upcoming trip, forgetting the PC still wasn’t connected to the new router. Becoming bad-tempered at the prolonged task, I went outside for fresh air and found a ginormous slug lurking beneath dead crocosmia in the garden. Young Student told me because they ate rat poison, slugs were fatal if eaten. “That sounds like an urban myth.” “No. A boy in Australia…” “Everything kills you in Australia!” “True,” she conceded. Disturbed by boisterousness on the street below at bedtime, I shouted “shut up!” through the bathroom window. They ignored me.

Most measures lifted for the start of term, schoolkids were meant to take LFT tests, a PCR if they had contact with infected persons, and isolate if positive. A decision on jabbing 12-15 year olds expected later that week, sage bod Peter Openshaw said they needed to ‘become immune’. In parliament, Goblin Saj announced an extra £5.4bn for the NHS. Boris pledged continuing efforts to rescue people from Afghanistan where the Taliban took Panjshir Valley, used tear gas on demonstrators and shot dead a pregnant cop. Women in Mazar-e-Sharif held a demo demanding a place in government. The Taliban effectively held four planes hostage at the city’s airport. Blair warned the Islamist threat was coming for us, requiring both hard and soft power to fight it. 1,000 migrants arrived in dinghies making the total 12,000 so far for 2021. Big Ben’s unveiling revealed numerals in original blue and George flags. The Welsh and Scots weren’t happy.

Interrupted by canal works Tuesday, I rose grumpily. Phil went out for last-minute gifts and groceries to find he was the only mask-wearer in the co-op. I painted the metal frames of the garden benches. The hammarite went on smoothly but worried I wouldn’t have enough turps, Phil bought some from the hardware shop before going back to the co-op to swap the decaff coffee he’d got by mistake. Decorating neighbour griped about the mill conversion blocking the road and Elderly Neighbour griped about everything. At least she had her partner, unlike my mum. I promised him a creole Christmas cake recipe. Surprised to already see new neighbours on the other side of the street, we joked with them that they didn’t hang around. Although we skipped siestas, we managed to stay awake to toast my birthday at midnight.

A Newcastle University study found 17% more deaths and 41 days more lockdown in the north of England during the first year of the pandemic. Denying plans for a firebreak in October half-term, ministers said there were ‘last resort’ contingencies. Nads Zahawi told BBC Breakfast we were now in a better place due to vaccines . Boosters for winter and later years were under consideration: “(to transition) the virus from pandemic to endemic status and deal with it year in, year out.” Announcing the anticipated hike in National Insurance, Boris admitted he broke a manifesto pledge but as “a global pandemic was in no-one’s manifesto,” was necessary. The extra 1.25% would be paid by all working adults, including OAPs, and raise £36 billion over 3 years to fund the NHS backlog and adult social care. There’d be a £86,000 cap on lifetime care costs and fully-funded care for those with assets of less than £20,000. Critics saw it as benefiting rich southerners and a tax rise on the young. Keir said: “The tories can never again claim to be the party of low tax.” Ex-health minister Cock claimed social care funding reform was “put in the ‘too difficult’ box.” by two successive governments. What a cock! A 1.25% rise in dividend tax wouldn’t apply until 2022-23, according to Therese Coffee-cup, so pensioners wouldn’t unfairly benefit from an ‘irregular statistical spike in earnings’. The Taliban interim government consisted of Mo Hassan Akhund as leader, Abdul Ghani Baradar as deputy and most-wanted Sirajuddin Haqqani as interior minister. Foot-soldiers arrested journalists and mindlessly fired into the air to disperse protestors outside the Pakistani embassy.

Fizzing and Floating

Aiming to sleep in after the late drink, I was again woken by canal works Wednesday. I rallied to enjoy a lovely birthday beginning with my favourite breakfast, reading cards and messages and opening gifts from Phil. We assembled goodies and caught a bus ‘up tops’. Detoured due to a road closure in the hilltop village, we wondered if it was roadworks or filming for the TV drama? Alighting after the next hamlet, we walked up to the farm shop for pop and proceeded down through the next village. The ‘no food’ sign on the pub-cum-campsite seemed daft with a captive audience. Maybe there were staffing issues. On the bridleway, floating willowherb fluff and the aniseed scent of angelica assailed our senses. Down in the clough, kids and dogs commandeered a favoured picnic spot. We ate our lunch on a nearby flat rock before proceeding, waylaid by a variety of fungi crazily sprouting from rotting trees, earth and wooden steps. Finding weird fuzzy mould on our fresh shop-bought mushrooms later in the week, Phil guessed they were infested with all the spores floating about. The main road blisteringly hot, I struggled on the last stretch. Unsurprisingly, it was officially the hottest September day ever. (For a fuller description, see Cool Placesⁱ).

Back home, I declared: “I’m dying for the loo.” “so am I.” “I’m too hot.” “so am I.” “I’m putting a dress on.” “So am I.” “Well, you could wear your sarong. But we’re going to the Thai place so they might think you’re taking the piss!” After changing, I lay on the bed in a stupor then got cleaned up for coffee and eclairs. I dithered over make-up when Walking Friend came knocking. She gave me a bottle of prosecco (that made 3 bottles of fizz), and awaited us outside.

Town pubs infested, I was grateful of spacious seating outside the restaurant for early bird dinners, accompanied by more fizzy prosecco at Walking Friend’s insistence. Saturn floated in the gloaming as did clouds of midges, having a feast in the canal-side air. Walking Friend insisted on paying the whole bill and wanting to buy her a drink in return, Phil led us to the corner pub. Still busy, I felt press-ganged but at least there was a free corner table. We talked about her new obsession with Wish. Feeling flush for the first time ever, she loved parcels dropping through the letterbox: “it’s like Christmas every day.” She then gave me a pouch of baccy. Overcome with her generosity, I pleaded: “if you don’t stop giving me things, I’ll cry! As she took her leave, we spotted Australian Hippy. Resembling a Zoolander character floating on rollerblades, he was making big money selling opals. Assailed by itchy bites (in spite of repellent) and sweaty hot flushes, I woke several times during the night. But it had been a wonderful day. In more affluent times I’d insist on going away for birthdays. Why bother when you can have it all in Yorkshire? (insect bites included!)

In a packed commons, labour MPs mostly wore masks, tories didn’t. The government defended the National Insurance increase before voting. Ironically, labour voted against but it passed anyway. After mistaking Rashford for a rugby player, it was intimated The Salesman was on the way out (correctly, as it turned out). Nasty Patel met Gerald Darmanin and suggested the bribe could be withheld if the French didn’t intercept more migrant crossings. He attacked reports of her sanctioning push-backs of boats to the continent, said they wouldn’t accept any measures that broke maritime law, and would not be subjected to blackmail. The manoeuvres were widely condemned as dangerous and against UN treaties.

Overnight rain led to a grey and humid Thursday, the heavy air presaging storms. I gave up on fractious sleep as engineering works recommenced, forced myself to clean the bedroom, became overheated and bathed. Feeling overwhelmed with only 4 days until our trip, I concentrated on doing one thing at a time. I texted Walking Friend to say thanks for the birthday night out, posted a photo from the walk to say thanks for birthday wishes and worked on the computer. In the afternoon, I went to the co-op, finding the cash machine not working and gaps on shelves. On the way back, I waited while Young Mum and Toddler descended the steps as he cutely counted them. I just got in when a rumble of thunder signalled a heavy shower. Having to clear a full kitchen sink before sorting the shopping, I had a slight fit and exhaustedly collapsed on the sofa. Phil asked what was up. I kept schtum but he swung into action, washed up and sorted laundry. Unable to focus my eyes, I lay down but failed to rest. Thankfully, I had a better night.

MHRA approved Pfizer and Astra-Zeneca for boosters, still awaiting JCVI advice. The government launched a 6-week consultation on mandatory vaccines for more frontline health and social care workers. As coffee-cuppers returned to offices, Costa Packet announced a 5% pay rise and 2,000 new jobs. Crush-hour prompted criticism of bare-faced commuters on tubes. The ‘condition of travel’ not legally enforceable, London mayor Khan wanted a government review on mask-wearing to be brought forward from October. Anti-mask posters housed razor blades to prevent them being taken down. Brexit import controls delayed again, until July 2022 because of covid and supply chain issues, and tighter rules on Northern Ireland trade delayed indefinitely to allow for further talks, Geoffrey Donaldson threatened the DUP would seek to block additional border checks under the protocol and leave Stormont if they failed. Sinn Fein leader Mary Lou McDonald called his comments ‘irresponsible’.

Another night of rain could have explained the lack of canal noise Friday morning. I ironed a few items and selected clothes to pack, spending ages failing to find anything to go with the new £1 skirt. After wasting half an hour, I picked out a dress instead. In the evening, we drank more prosecco and posh chocolates while watching films.

Holyrood made vaccines mandatory to access nightclubs and other venues from 1^st October. The next day, ONS stats showed 1:45 Scots were infected. The highest rate in the UK by some margin, Sturgeon said the Covid Pass wasn’t a magic bullet but may mean not having to use other measures. A lack of guidance prompted some wag to say clubs had longer cocktail lists. The Food and Drink Federation predicted shortages were here to stay but Downing Street insisted the supply chain was ‘highly resilient’. Look North reported a shortage of abattoir butchers. Saying it was cruel, surely it was good for the pigs. Gordon Ramsay restaurants lost £5.1m profit during lockdowns and KPMG set a target of 29% of their workforce to come from working class backgrounds.

We spent a changeable weekend mainly indoors. Saturday, Phil trimmed my fringe which seemed to have grown unevenly into my eyes. I then packed and rang the holiday cottage owner for a nice chat about the internet and War of the Roses, wrote a haigaⁱⁱ, put some recycling out and went to the co-op for cash and a small top-up, impeded by gangs of teenagers hanging about. At bedtime, I unusually fell asleep with the light still on. Waking at 8 the next morning I, almost got up, realised it was Sunday and slept another hour. I was annoyed by bowls floating in a scummy kitchen sink but as Phil struggled with tummy ache, I let it lie. He finished his packing while I draft-posted blogs.

Andrew Marr harked back to Jon Ashworth’s previous statement that opening up on 19^th July was ‘reckless’. Jon replied it depended on your definition of ‘reckless’: the virus was still circulating and 8,000 were in hospital. He said abuse of powers under Coronavirus Laws needed looking into but Goblin Saj maintained it was important to keep the powers to ensure the infected self-isolated. Days after they became law in Scotland and other ministers said they were a good idea, he confirmed the planned introduction of Covid Passes at the end of the month wouldn’t happen in England.

Breath-Taking

Sleeping through the gentle wave sounds of the DAB alarm for several minutes Monday morning, I panicked slightly, worked through a list of jobs and packed lunch while Phil cooked a filling breakfast. Taking recycling out, a cavalcade of neighbours attempted to drive down the street, blocked by the mill development. Fortunately, this didn’t impede our walk to the station. The journey was trouble-free but slow. Too crowded to contemplate having a coffee, we spent an hour’s wait at Preston eating butties, and going out for a smoke. During a tedious 15 minutes stood at Lancaster, a hoard of school kids packed the connecting train. Thinning out for the last stretch, we relaxed to enjoy the coastal scenery. I recalled a ramp from the platform at Grange down to the prom but mis-remembered the exit to the town centre and overshot the tunnel. As we turned down a small cul-de-sac, I recognised the cottage from the bin outside. Inside, a balcony and picture window provided breath-taking views of Morecambe Bay. After unpacking and cuppas on the balcony, we went in search of supplies. The local co-op terrible, we settled on pizza and visited Spar for a few items. After one glass of wine, I felt sleepy and switched to coffee. Big mistake. As if coping with a cluttered mind and a strange bed wasn’t bad enough, the late caffeine hit did nothing to aid sleep.

Chief Medical Officers recommended 12-15 year olds were administered a dose of Pfizer in schools with parental consent, to prevent disruption. But 800,000 doses of Astra-Zeneca would expire by the end of September due to reduced take-up. French M&S stores were shutting amid Brexit butty hold-ups while Pret profits went up 15% in a week. Half of office workers wished to stay home Mondays and Fridays, prompting the acronym TW*ATS. Goldman Sachs urged them back fulltime with no social distancing and Morrisons announced no sick pay for unvaccinated staff who had to self-isolate.

Eventually coming round Tuesday, we bought excellent pies from Higginson’s (Phil’s favourite shop) and caught a bus to Cartmel, baulking at the £4 each to go two miles! In the village, we marvelled at wild-growing hops, laughed at craft brewing, chi-chi antiques and the so-called ‘village shop’ that didn’t even sell pop, visited the historic priory and used racecourse facilities. A Guardian family learning to segue provided entertainment as we munched on a mighty cheese pasty at a picnic bench. We started walking back to Grange on the delightfully-named Haggs Lane. Hedgerow blackberries exceedingly sweet, we braved fast cars on the dangerously narrow, twisting lane to pick a pound. On Grange Fell Road, Phil pointed to a graveyard. “That’s where dead people go.” I indicated a golf course opposite: “That’s’ where nearly dead people go!” The walk harder than anticipated, I was glad we’d got the bus up even with the gouging fares. We got cola from Spar and found the tunnel we’d missed Monday evening. The sun emerged from grey clouds as we perched on a prom wall. Despite signs of overheating, Phil wanted to continue to the lido, then suggested dumping bags. We back-tracked to the cottage where we also ditched layers. From excessively detailed info of the renovation, we gleaned the lido wouldn’t be a wreck for long. Nearby plaques depicted landmarks across the bay: the metropolis of Morecambe (the proposed site of Eden Project North), Heysham nuclear power plant and. Blackpool Tower. 31 miles away, Phil claimed you could see it from space.

After Calum Semple warned of ‘a rough winter’ Boris’ unveiled his ‘winter covid plan’. ‘Sticking with the strategy’ meant relying on vaccines: boosters for the over 50’s and carers of Pfizer or ½ dose of Moderna, started Thursday. If other measures were needed, there was a Plan A (jab campaigns, meeting outside, wearing masks, washing hands, using the TIT app and helping other countries get vaccines) and a Plan B (Covid Passes, mandatory masks, working from home). Anti-lockdown MP Steve Baker whinged: “The public health powers are still there, allowing (Javid) to lock us down at the stroke of his pen without prior votes.”

In spite of better sleep, I felt rough on a super-bright Wednesday, rallied over a cuppa to go on a short train ride. No staff in the station office, the ticket machine inexplicably wouldn’t accept our railcard. It was still cheaper than the bus, though! In Arnside, we walked up the beautiful estuary towards a disused station marked on a weird map we found in the cottage. Coming to a hamlet, we decided it must be Sandside and took photos of each other to prove we’d been. On the way back, we couldn’t resist a ‘flash forage’ for more blackberries in spite of bursting for a wee. Village cafés all shut, we went in the pub where they absurdly only accepted the exact money in cash. Even with my caution, I couldn’t fathom how that prevented the spread of covid. From the elevated beer garden, I espied an ideal grassy picnic spot. After eating, Phil threw pie crumbs to a cute jackdaw, which set small gulls into a frenzy. Far from aggressive, they affected endearing begging poses. We explored the sands, carefully avoiding dangerous squidgy bits, marvelled at wispy angel-like clouds floating above Kents Viaduct, went on the tiny pier then needed the loo again. “I’m not having more beer; it’s an endless cycle.” Phil spotted public conveniences – accepting the 40p charge in contactless form only! Railing at yet more gouging, we gave the locals something to talk about by going in together. Back in Grange, we explored the lower end of Main Street, found nothing useful and ended up back at the crap co-op and Spar. Hot, tired and achy, I lay on the bed and closed my eyes when Phil entered the bedroom. Annoyed, I gave up resting and revived later with a fluffy bath, thanks to free radox.

As predicted, The Salesman was sacked in the Cabinet re-shuffle as was Rabid Raab. The contract for the not-yet MHRA approved Valneva vaccine was cancelled. Scottish health minister Humza Yousaf called it ‘a blow’ to Livingstone. Research found 1/3 of arrivals into the UK March-May broke quarantine rules. Fuel and food costs led to a CPI rise of 3.2% August, the most for 10 years, which didn’t escape the notice of Ian Blackford. Putin’s entourage caught covid, putting him in isolation. Only 56% of Greeks immunised, it was hoped mandatory weekly testing of workers would encourage uptake.. The Taliban gave 3-day eviction notices to thousands in order to house their own fighters in Kandahar’s army residential district. The UN said their response to protests was ’increasingly violent’ which didn’t stop them from happening.

A better start Thursday, we strolled to the station and had no trouble using our railcard at the booking office. Riding the train the other way, we got different coastal views and a chuckle from ‘Cack-in-Caramel’ “It sounds like something from a fancy restaurant!” We visited Ulverston market and walked down the smallest canal, alive with plant and animal life. At Canal Foot, we again had to buy drinks to use facilities. Supping IPA overlooking the estuary, I fretted that it took 2 hours to get there and feared we’d miss the last pre-rush hour train. However, we were back in town in 30 minutes. My ankle didn’t’ hurt even though I’d forgotten a bandage that day, but blisters on our soles made us both footsore. Twilight above the bay resplendent with a stripey sunset and silvery waxing moon, I mentioned we hadn’t gone out in the evenings as expected. “What for?” asked Phil, “we wouldn’t get better views anywhere else.”

Vaccines mandatory to work in NHS and care jobs in 12 weeks’ time, today marked the deadline for a first jab. Metro reported staff could self-certify medical exemption. Hospitals in Scotland and Northern Ireland over-stretched not because of covid but staff shortages, the army was drafted in to help.

Life’s A Gas

Friday morning, the phone alarm succeeded in waking me to a yellow sunrise. The colours different every hour of every day, I would miss those expansive views. Things got fraught preparing to leave the cottage when I realised we hadn’t emptied the bins and only just managed it before the agreed check-out time. We trundled our cases through the ornamental gardens, sat on a bench, checked connections and decided to get the next train straight home rather than stop at Carnforth as planned. We took final photos of the bay (because we didn’t already have hundreds!) and surreptitiously sniggered at a trio of boring men with guitars chatting shit before the slightly delayed train arrived. We sat on folding seats in the busy carriage, which became packed at Lancaster. During a shorter wait at Preston, a schizophrenic gibbered at Phil and called me ‘a ginger Mysteron’. Where was his tinfoil hat! We fought our way over busy platforms and stood near the doors on another crowded service. At the next stop, a kind young woman indicated two free adjacent seats. We wedged cases in the footwell and I played games on my phone to block out the hubbub of mask-less fellow passengers. (More details to follow on Cool Places 2ⁱⁱⁱ).

Back in our valley, we wandered through an eerily quiet park, devoid of kids. After eating lunch with a proper pot of tea, I felt exhausted. Phil advised I rest and he’d go shopping. Unable to sleep, I lay listening for his return, heard nothing and went down to find him slumped on the sofa. He tetchily complained of having to go to the co-op and the convenience store, the former “like Russia, with things moved round to make gaps on shelves look less worse.” Popping out for a few items the next day, I had no trouble finding them, apart from tonic, and saw no sign of re-arranged stock. The Co-op boss later said prices would go up because of HGV, shipping and ‘global commodity’ hikes but that didn’t fully explain the randomness. The rest of the weekend was taken up unpacking, laundering, writing and photo-editing (nowhere near finished) I realised several details from the dream in July had come true, albeit in a jumbled way (see Part 72).

According to ONS, mask use dropped from 98 to 89%. What rot! No way were 89% of passengers wearing masks on trains coming home! And if 90% of us had anti-bodies, why the booster campaign? After Minister Robert Courts said the DfT would reduce covid test costs for travel, the traffic lights changed. Discussed at the Cabinet Covid Sub-committee, Shatts announced it in a series of tweets. From 22^nd September, 8 countries would come off the red list and the amber list would be scrapped 4^th October. The inoculated didn’t need pre-departure tests and PCR tests 2 days after arrival would be replaced with an LFT later on. Soaring wholesale gas prices forced plants to shut and led to a CO2 shortage. Headlines proclaimed it hit meat, packaging and fizzy drinks (as evinced by no tonic in the co-op for weeks). Then people started to realise it affected everything including apples. In the face of shortages of plastic crap and pigs-in-blanket, The Glove-Puppet was co-opted as Elf Minister ‘to save Christmas’* The Cumbre Vieja volcano on La Palma exploded, destroying 20 homes in Puerto Naus. 6,000 fled as molten lava flowed towards the ocean and acid rain and toxic gasses spewed into the air.

*National Economic Recovery Task Force, aka Committee to Save Christmas

References:

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

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

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

Part 76 – Selective Truths

“To suggest it was too late to stop the capital falling to the Taliban is not a defence, but a shameful admission of his own failure to act sooner” (Lisa Nandy)

Unpleasant Discoveries

Somewhat better Monday morning, Phil listened out for an expected delivery while I bathed and dressed. Loud rapping signalled its arrival soon after I emerged. The courier whose white van often blocked the street had reason to be in front of our house for once. He indicated the parcel on the step and left. I then found an e-mail from Hermes with a photo attachment of the package, in case I didn’t recognise it obvs! I posted blogs and hung washing out. Grey but fine and breezy, it was a good drying day. Emptying the food recycling, something nasty and unidentifiable required several rinses. On the anniversary of the 1819 massacre, Film 4 showed the movie Peterloo, rather long for a Monday night. We guffawed at the accents throughout. Talk about laying it on thick! It was a good job we weren’t at the pictures.

Additional bribes to get jabs were offered to young people in the form of vouchers from Asda, M&S, holiday companies and leisure centres. Amid mayhem at Kabul airport, people scrambled to leave and 5 died trying to stowaway on a US plane. Ben Wally burst into tears on LBC and Uncle Joe Biden blamed Afghan leaders for giving up. That and other insensitive comments angered Americans. Geronimo the alpaca got a short-lived stay of execution.

In a week of unpleasant discoveries, Tuesday, I fouIn a week of unpleasant discoveries, on Tuesday I found a lump of ice and gunk at the bottom of the fridge. Checking the reservoir at the back, I unearthed a desiccated half-munched banana. In the co-op, I paid for a sizeable shop at the kiosk, chatted to my mate, struggled home slowly and dropped my purse at the front door spilling change all over the pavement. Knackered, I lay down and managed 10 minutes in an almost-slumber, feeling snuggly and warm. Watching evening news, Phil remarked: “so, they’re still doing daily covid stats.” “Yes, they talked about stopping, but here we are.” For dinner, I cooked borscht using wrinkled beetroots. The purple soup looked great but lacked flavour.

Steve Reicher said summer rates weren’t as high as feared because people were being ‘sensible’ but Neil Ferguson predicted a fourth wave in autumn, with 1,000 covid patients per day admitted to hospital. MHRA approved Moderna for 12-17 year olds; JCVI advice was still awaited. A plague vaccine developed in Oxford was trialled on 40 volunteers. One case in NZ led to a 3-day lockdown nationwide, 7 days in Auckland and Coromandel. Jobcentre figures revealed unemployment 4.7% in July, wages up 7.4% and 1 million vacancies. Workers doing long shifts for minimum wage discovered their transferable skills and left. Official Taliban spokesman Zabiullah Mujahid held a press conference (he may have kept a low profile thus far but did have a twitter account). Being selective with the truth, he promised amnesty for those who’d worked for the former regime and women the ability to work and study, albeit under ‘sharia’ whatever that meant. While gunmen rolled into Kabul and had fun on the dodgems, Bumbling Boris and Rabid Raab were holidaying. Raab said he’d been taken by surprise, as had people who found him lounging on a Cretan beach. He maintained it didn’t make any difference as he’d liaised with cobra and promised ‘bespoke arrangements’ for Afghans wanting to settle in the UK. The Afghan Citizens Resettlement Scheme was criticised for being too slow.

It later transpired he refused to call foreign minister Harif Almar Friday, delegating the task to a junior minister, who also never rang. On Newsnight, Tom Tughat and Stella Creasy agreed plans were meaningless if the Taliban blocked access to Kabul airport. Not believing a word they said, they accused the Taliban of using fancy words by day and death squads by night to hunt down people who worked for the former regime. The size of the Afghan army grossly over-estimated, they wanted to know where the dollars had gone. In the Panjshir Valley, vice president Amrullah Saleh, the only one who hadn’t scarpered, held out, declared himself ‘legitimate caretaker president’ (technically correct under the constitution) and teamed up with Ahmad Massoud to assemble a counter-attack.

Shameless Acts

Wednesday, we ventured to Halifax. The roads busy, I twisted my ankle on the kerb trying to cross near an illegally parked car. I screamed in agony, felt sick and dizzy and thought I should go home. But after sitting on a low wall and gulping water, the pain eased and I decided to continue. At the station, the train arrived almost immediately. A bit full, we stood near the doors, thankful it was a fast service. I wasn’t surprised to learn passenger numbers on all transport networks had reached post-pandemic highs. We went in a couple of discount stores, waiting in stupidly long queues for a few purchases, before entering the Market Hall. The tall clock provided a splendid focal point. A strange abandoned section hid previously unseen eateries and an unfinished concourse but no seating. We settled on Coletta’s Café for filling fry-ups. Out on Corn Market, Phil commandeered a bench while I nipped in Wilko’s. Not seeing any insect spray, an assistant caught my eye and indicated the gardening section. “No, to spray on me, not the garden.” “Oh a general spray? For clothes? “No! for the body!” Eventually cottoning on, she directed me to a woefully scant selection. Amongst a row of self-service tills only 1 was staffed. As I queued again, the cashier ridiculously wandered off! We spent the rest of the afternoon scanning the town for carvings, plaques and inscriptions on once-grand buildings. Looking for a shortcut through to the Woolshops, we found the route blocked by a hideous new sixth form college. In the precinct, visitors were invited to sit in a giant deckchair and post a snap on Instagram. Phil refused to comply but it inspired my next haigaⁱ. We wandered through the magnificent Piece Hall and into the library, 5 minutes before closing. A librarian suggested we go up a floor for a better view of the rose window and thoughtfully gave me a leaflet on the way out, which I later lost. We squatted on a concrete block near the exit to check return trains. A woman who’d stalked Phil a couple of years back emerged, glanced at me then quickly away. “Don’t look now.” I told Phil. As he caught a glimpse of the back of her head, he chortled: “She my wife!” The slightly delayed train stopped everywhere but was thankfully less full. (For a fuller description, see Cool Places 2ⁱⁱ)

On alighting my ankle really hurt. Phil popped in the co-op while I limped home to examine the damage. I applied freeze spray to the swelling but it did nothing. Phil made coffee and reverted to tiny work. I moaned until he fetched ice cubes wrapped in a flannel to apply. Glad we didn’t have to cook dinner, Phil added extra herbs to improve leftover borscht. At bedtime, I tried to keep the bad ankle elevated on a pillow which worked until I turned over. I used the meditation soundtrack to distract myself from the pain and get some sleep.

The Newquay Boardmaster festival was blamed for Cornwall becoming a covid hotspots. Just Eat orders went up 700% in the first half of the year. A chicken peri-peri shortage caused by staff isolating, EU worker rules and HGV logistics issues, forced Nando’s to shut numerous branches. Nasty Patel announced additional statutory guidance for issuing gun licences; doctors had to tell police of applicant’s ‘relevant medical conditions’. Austin Haddock Mitchel died and a last-ditch High Court bid failure meant Geronimo the alpaca would be put down.

General Sir Nick Carter did the rounds on breakfast telly to advise the Taliban were keeping the streets of Afghanistan calm and safe and we should ‘wait and see’ if they meant what they said. What was he on with his fancy shirt? While ambassador Laurie Bristow said there were mere days left to rescue people, flights left almost empty from a chaotic Kabul airport. In a packed commons, The Bumbler was slated. Ex-PM May asked: “where is global Britain on the streets of Kabul?” She warned Russia and China wouldn’t be blind to the implications of the withdraw decision. Boris insisted there was no choice after the USA left. Announcing an extra £286m in aid he didn’t say who’d get it and wouldn’t be drawn on recognising a Taliban regime. Downing Street later said the situation needed an ‘international unified response’. Tom Tughat called Uncle Joe’s blaming of the Afghan army ‘shameful’. Nick Thomas-Symonds accused Boris and Rabid Raab of a ‘dereliction of duty’ going on holiday and Keir added: “You cannot co-ordinate an international response from the beach.” It subsequently transpired nobody rang the Afghan foreign minister last week, prompting Ian Blackford to call Raab’s position “completely untenable.” The Times later reported the permanent secretaries were simultaneously on leave. Rabid Raab defended not making the phone call, saying it would have been too late because of the ‘rapidly deteriorating situation’. He’d prioritised keeping Kabul airport open and worked ‘tirelessly’ to get people out. Nandy said his comments ‘didn’t stack up’. Amidst a series of pointless cobra meetings, Tobias Ellwood complained of a reactive rather than proactive approach and lack of co-ordination across Whitehall. Calderdale known for taking in refugees, we must have missed BBC news in Halifax speaking to the council leader. He said they’d house Afghans but needed support. On a QT special, panel members all insisted they were right and everyone else was wrong.

I managed 10 minutes exercise Thursday morning, being careful not to put weight on the bad ankle. The pain now more of an ache, it remained inflamed for a few days. A sleepy Phil discovered a lump on the back of his hand resembling a mosquito bite. I prescribed running it under hot water which helped. Sick of metro not downloading on the ipad, I installed it on my phone. The tablet too old to update, I mainly used it to play games but crammed with arty apps, thought I should revisit them before declaring it obsolete. Still unsafe for me to carry the tray down, Phil did the honours and made coffee. I arranged a meeting with the owner of Valley Life and read a project update from the researcher. The now-live blog included an extract of one of my covid dreams and a photo credit under the politics sectionⁱⁱⁱ. I mulled over ideas to send her later. Working on the journal, I developed head fug and went for a rest. As irritating dying alarm noises, going since mid-morning finally stopped, music started up. I put earplugs in and managed a few minutes with my eyes shut.

36,572 new cases, 6,379 in hospital, and 113 deaths hadn’t prompted 2.5m 18-29 year olds to get vaccinated. ONS research found antibodies declined in older age groups, yet JCVI were unlikely to advise boosters for all over 50’s. Astra-Zeneca and Pfizer both effective, Pfizer had a stronger initial immune response against the Delta variant but degraded quicker. DVLA blamed strikes and social distancing for a 10 week wait for licences. A five year old Afghan refugee died when he fell from a window of the Hotel Metropolitan, Sheffield.

Empty Promises

Friday, I donned a support bandage on the stiff ankle before going to the co-op. Phil joined me at the till to help pack and carry, which was just as well as my ankle hurt by then. I posted ‘Light and Dark’ on Cool Places^iv before a siesta. As I read metro on the phone, I joked today’s wallpaper of a tree in the desert resembled one Phil made yesterday of the moor with an incongruous tree, moon and sky. “I was inspired by art in Halifax market. To hell with that highbrow stuff. I’m going for the populist approach.”

The ‘R’ number up to 0.9-1.2, ONS data showed rates still high in the UK and rising in Wales and Northern Ireland. PHE said 55% of those ill with the Delta variant (74% for the under 50’s) hadn’t had a jab and inoculations prevented 24.4 million covid cases, 98,700 deaths and 82,1000 hospitalisations. During 4 weeks on a covid ward, Chris witless found it ‘stark’ how many unvaccinated people were admitted. Over a year since Donald Trump was given monoclonal antibody Ronapreve to cure his covid, it was approved by MHRA. What took so long? Astra-Zeneca said a new ‘antibody cocktail’ for people unable to be vaccinated was 77% effective in reducing the risk of developing symptomatic disease. Gurkhas ended their hunger strike on the 13^th day after promises of government talks.

Saturday morning I could carry a tray upstairs. A door knock interrupted my first morning cuppa. I trudged back down to find Snooty Neighbour on the doorstep. He informed me a van was coming to fetch their piano next Tuesday, ahead of their move to Barnard Castle. Probably showing off, but I appreciated the advance notice. On BBC Breakfast, David Morrisey gave nothing away about Britannia III. We reckoned there was a ban on clips and with no access to Sky Atlantic, it would be some time before we got to see it. Less confident taking the tray downstairs, I left Phil to bring it and made breakfast. Phil tried to get the telly box back on the internet. Discovering it couldn’t be done over wi-fi, he fiddled with wires but the string from the router wasn’t long enough. “We’re gonna need a bigger string.” I took the opportunity to tidy wires under the corner table before Phil cut my hair. I dyed some faded clothes in the machine and applied another coat of aluminium paint to the old cutlery caddy. Phil went to the shop, finding town busy despite nasty showers. Cooking dinner, I had a funny turn. Becoming hot and hardly able to stand, I slumped on a chair and wondered if it was covid. Cooling down but still wobbly, I decided hunger had coincided with a hot flush. We watched films on DVD bought in charity shops last week. An interval to prepare pudding made the evening rather long.

Sunday morning, my ankle didn’t hurt at first but my buttocks did. I must have slept funny. The injury pain returning later, a bandage helped until I stood on Phil’s foot by accident. He yelped in alarm. “That hurt me more than it hurt you!” I assured him. Unable to go walking, I considered gardening when brightness turned to rain. Phil similarly abandoned leaf-hunting plans. More storm warnings Saturday for Northern Ireland and SW England, the predicted move north brought only showers. Depressed at being stuck indoors, I wrote a haiga, draft-posted the journal, put things in Phil’s amazon basket including a long ethernet cable, and rifled through drawers looking for connectors. Not finding any of the right sort, I discovered a bunch of fuzzy batteries. Watching the last episode of The Handmaid’s Tale, I thought a visceral scene signalled the end and turned over when ads appeared. It wasn’t. Apparently, people had complained the series was too grim and violent.

North Yorkshire now without TV for a fortnight, a temporary mast was promised by next weekend but ran into problems with a narky landowner. The government said they’d rescued 4,000 so far from a calmer Kabul airport. Tony Blair called the withdrawal ‘tragic, dangerous and unnecessary’ and ‘a serious mistake’. Saying it wasn’t yet over, he thought Afghanistan still had a chance. Had he forgotten his selective truths dragged us into Middle Eastern wars in the first place? Hailed as braver than the army or government, resisting women made former MP Fawzi Koofi proud. However, fears of a return to repression left many scared to go out let alone protest. Wondering why mainstream media had so far chosen to ignore the Hindu Kush enclave, they reported fighting in Panjshir Valley between the Taliban and former VP.

References:

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

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

iii. Covid Diary Research Project blog: https://www.ruraldiaryproject.uk/

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

Part 47 – Silly Games

“There’s no endgame that sees one country succeeding in controlling the virus while the rest of the world is dealing with rampant spread” (Salim Abdool Karim)

Peaky Jabbers

Exhausted by insomnia Monday morning, I forced myself up and opened the curtains to a sparkling scene of a thin coat of snow and dazzling sun. Briefly forgetting my woes, I said we should go for a walk, after the essential tasks.

Taking rubbish out, an icy wind blew into my face. I decided it was too cold for walking. The window cleaner’s hose was wrapped round our dustbin to stop people tripping on the steps. As he emerged from the higher terrace opposite, we chatted awhile. A load of crap dumped in the bin required fishing out with biodegrading rubber gloves and a stick, risking frostbite or worse. By the time I’d cleaned up after the horrid job, it was 2 o’clock and my previous enthusiasm was overtaken by malaise. Outdoor plans scrapped, I worked on the journal and aimed to do yoga but time ran away with me again. It was one of those days…

32 new vaccine sites included The Black Country Living Museum used as a film set for Peaky Blinders. “Peaky Jabbers!” I quipped, though the chances of Cillian Murphy turning up were slim. ONS figures showed that during 2020, manual workers suffered the most deaths from Covid-19, especially in production, security, chefs, and drivers (men), retail & wholesale, carers and social workers (women). The TUC said workplace fatalities were ‘vastly unreported’. The RMT, headteachers, prisons, posties and shopworkers clamoured to be prioritised for immunisation. The Covid Operations Committee, aka COC, met to decide on tighter border controls and quarantine hotels.

Ever the populist, a day after Matt Cock said it was too early, Boris hinted at easing lockdown after vulnerable groups were inoculated. Mark Harper of CRG called for slackening by early March, starting with schools. Already sick to death of media coverage on the impact of school closures, teenagers on Newsnight moaning that it was ‘weally hard’ wore down my sympathy for the younger generation. As if not attending class was the worst thing ever with hospitals full and people dying!

The last 12,000 jobs at Debenhams would go as Boohoo were buying the brand and website but not the shops. Later acquiring Dorothy Perkins, Wallis and Burtons, and Asos about to purchase Topshop, Topman, Miss Selfridge and HIT, it could be the end of Arcadia on the hight street, apart from possibly the flagship Oxford Street Topshop store.

NGS-SA, a consortium of medics looking into the South African variant, found 23 mutations, of which 20 caused amino acid changes and 8 were in the spike protein. These allowed greater transmission and replication in the host, leading to quicker spread. With some evidence of more resistance to natural antibodies, they said it was ‘likely’ vaccines would still work, subject to further research.

Tuesday proved even worse than Monday. In the damp monochrome afternoon, I set off for Boots. A woman crouched down to finger practically every item on the shelf, selfishly blocking the aisle, until I politely asked her to shift for me to grab mouthwash. I collected my online order from the cash-desk and retreated to decant items from the unwieldy box into my rucksack. Vials spilled out of a hair dye carton, hazardously undone. Now in a bad mood, I considered skipping the grocery shop but persevered. Kids running haphazardly in the congested co-op aisles made me swear. Swerving contact, I sped round for essentials but paused when I saw a product recall notice for seafood we got at Christmas, making a note to return it. At the kiosk I asked to speak to a manager. When he appeared, I explained my angst at the busyness of the shopfloor. Rather than an apology for the stress caused let alone any thanks for bringing the matter to his attention, he defensively said: “we can’t watch the floor all the time.” Fuming, I stormed out. Back home, I took toiletries up to the bathroom, got washed and collapsed on the sofa. Relating the obstacle course to Phil, he said: “it’s those essential coffee-cup worker kids coming out of school, obvs.” “Yes but why did they have someone on the door during the first lockdown to limit numbers and not now? And why do those middle class coffee-cuppers still think they are special?” It made me think again about the hubris of some, when everyone was in the same boat (apart from celebs). He kindly sorted the groceries so I could go for a rest, but my mind whirred, still perturbed by the shopping experience. And while there were less comings and goings on the street below, I was disturbed when shed boy returned in his rickety van from no-doubt essential building work (sic). Reflecting on the trials of the past 2 days, I reasoned at least the errands were done leaving time to do something more enjoyable midweek. In the evening, a fine fog swirled smoke-like beneath the streetlamps.

Dicing with Death

UK official deaths doubled in 2 months to reach the grim milestone of 100,000, a 3^rd of them care home residents. The highest in Europe, only the US, Brazil, India and Mexico had worse stats. Sage bod Calum Semple predicted another 50k fatalities before the pandemic ‘burns out’. Keir, self-isolating for a third time, called it a ‘national tragedy’ and trolled out the old ‘behind the curve at every stage’ line. Appearing at the briefing, The Bumbler apologised and said he took full responsibility – sorry my arse! And to think that on this date in 2020, positive tests numbered 50. Oh, halcyon days! On a more positive note, over 7m now had the vax and hospital admissions were the lowest since New Year, but there were still more in-patients on ventilators than ever.

200,000 job losses Sept-Nov 2020 led to a 5-year unemployment record of 5% (1.72m). It would have been much worse without furlough, currently supporting 2.4m posts, down from the May peak of 8.9m, when firms shed staff before it was extended. Business leaders urged a re-extension of the scheme in Rishi’s March budget.

Rising on Wednesday, I immediately felt wobbly with a clogged nose and had to get back in bed. Pissed off after only 3 days up and about and reluctant to submit to a relapse, my depression reached a new low. I told myself I wasn’t missing much as the weather stayed grey, belying the forecast for an improvement. I hoped the debilitation would be short-lived this time but alas, it proved not to be. While I wrote on the laptop, Phil cleaned and shopped.

A week after escaping the floods, the Wockhardt factory was evacuated after a suspicious package required the deployment of bomb disposal. A Chatham man later arrested for sending the parcel, we weren’t told if it was actually a bomb. The Bumbler briefed the nation that 8^th March was the earliest date for school re-opening and promised a plan to come out of lockdown week beginning 22^nd Feb, dependent on vaccine progress, hospital admissions and fatalities. Patel finally said going on holiday was illegal and berated social media influencers sun-bathing in Dubai and skiers heading for Kings Cross. Travellers from certain countries would be bussed to Covid hotels, paying £1,500 for 10 days quarantine. The ‘red list’ due to come into force next Friday, included South America, Southern Africa, Portugal, UAE and some dot islands. Best Western’s UK CEO Rob Paterson said the chain could quickly sweep into action, but later expressed dismay at the lack of firm plans. Was he that rare animal – a businessman who wasn’t in league with the tories?

A virtual Keir appeared at PMQs to repeat’ slow, slow, slow’. He asked: why was the UK death toll the highest in Europe? why did quarantine only apply to certain countries? and why weren’t all inbound travellers tested and quarantined immediately? Keir slapped down an evasive Boris for trolling out the worn-out insults, said he had ‘no plan’ and pleaded for the urgent inoculation of keyworkers. This time able to ask both questions, Ian Blackford berated Boris for not ‘following the science’ as he claimed and called for financial certainty on furlough and UC: “stop the dithering and delays!” Des Swayne MP (not seen on the green benches) told an anti-lockdown group that stats on the virus “appear to have been manipulated.” Scolded by the tory chair, Angela Rayner demanded stronger action.

After a week of anti-curfew rioting in the Netherlands, businesses were boarded up and at least 180 arrested. Fires were lit in the streets of Amsterdam and Den Hague. No surprise to me, having previously experienced hair-raising New Year trips! One of their favourite pastimes seemed to be setting fire to cars. Pfizer found their vaccine effective against the SA variant while Moderna developed a booster for theirs. Chair of the SA coronavirus advisory panel, Salim Abdool Karim said: “no-one is safe until everyone is safe…There’s no endgame that sees one country succeeding in controlling the virus while the rest of the world is dealing with rampant spread…we all need to stand together.” Prof. Tulio De Oliviera, the scientist who discovered the variant added that travel restrictions were futile: “I find it almost silly…trying to block a country, because we know how fast this virus spreads and in how many places.” He called on governments to avoid ‘virus nationalism’ and apply broad quarantine rules to all international travellers.

A good night’s sleep aside, I still felt ill on Thursday. I spent all day in bed writing my novel and collaging. Phil spent all day on the phone telling people Shutterstock wasn’t working. The problem persisting into the following week, at least it was earning the dollars.

Paperchase

In the face of criticism on slow rollout and angry at Astra-Zeneca limiting supplies to the EU, the European Commission had threatened vaccine controls. Nads Zahawi played down fears imports of Pfizer would be blocked, saying 367m were on order from different sources. EU health commissioner Stella Keryakides said: “we reject the notion of first come first served.” Set to approve the AZ vax Friday, Germans found ‘insufficient data’ of effectiveness on the over 65’s. Nads dismissed the claims. AZ boss Pascal Soriot advised the UK was doing right delaying the second jab 12 weeks and bragged that all over 50’s would be immunised by the end of February. Wading into the kerfuffle, Sturgeon threatened to give supply figures to Europe (already available in the form of ‘spin’). She also criticised Boris for visiting the Valneva lab in Livingston north of the border, maker of yet another vaccine. Meanwhile, Novavax planned to make 60m doses in Teesside. Almost 90% effective on the Kent virus and 60% on the SA variant, it was set to be the 4^th vaccine to gain approval.

With an upward trend since Christmas week, police had so far issued 42,000 fines, 80% to 18-39 year olds and 250 for mass gatherings including 2 organisers of the Woodhouse Moor snowball fight. “Why no fines for Londoners sledging on Primrose Hill?” I asked. “Because they weren’t Leeds chavs,” replied Phil. “We were told it was students.” “I doubt it. Not dressed like that.” Clients escaped from a police raid via the fire exit from the Euphoria salon in Cwmbran. The owner was fined £1k, Casa Cruz got a £5k fine for Rita Ora’s birthday bash but she escaped sanctions herself. The disproportionality was striking.

The issue of ‘vaccine nationalism’ discussed on QT, we were reminded of the EU land border on the island of Ireland. Was there actually a good side to Brexit? “I’ve always said the EU is just a giant pile of coffee-cuppers,” declared Phil. The problems of getting a bunch of nations to agree manifest, maybe the UK government was right to appoint a venture capitalist to head up a taskforce, thus delegating the job to a non-politician.

And oft-derided investors saved the Paperchase chain, including many of the chain’s high street shops.

On a nondescript Friday, I initially felt better after a good sleep, but my sinus symptoms soon returned. Resigned to bedrest, I continued work on the secret collage, wishing I’d never started, or used paper rather than Photoshop. It was so fiddly cutting round those pixels! Phil went to the co-op for a ‘freezer filler’ of pizza and garlic bread. Again, we didn’t drink too much wine while watching films but overnight, I had two dreams like movie plots. The first resembled a crap cheap sci-fi with Mars cop robots. The second featured WW1 soldiers as sooty ghosts. Relating them to Phil, I complained: “we watch too many sci-fi and war films”. “It’s good for your imagination,” he countered, “WW1 gets in your head.” We thought there might be some mileage in the latter idea.

1 year since the first UK case of coronavirus arose in York, paper books chosen for genre or colour rather than content, sold ‘by the yard’ to fill shelves in zoom backgrounds. The Janssen vaccine showed 60% effectiveness after 1 dose, including on the SA variant. Prof. Paul Heath, leader of the Novavax trial, said the technology existed to deal with new strains with the possibility of ‘bivalent’ vaccines. The EMU approved the Astra-Zeneca vax for all adults, despite German claims of ineffectiveness on OAPs. Aiming to stop exports from Europe until the end of March, Brussels introduced more paperwork in the form of a ‘vaccine export transparency mechanism’ and planned to invoke Article 16 to stop product crossing from ROI to NI. After condemnation from London, Belfast and Dublin for breaking the Brexit agreement, it was hastily withdrawn. Arlene Foster called it “an incredible act of hostility.” Playing silly beggars, more like!

Over the weekend, I stayed mainly in bed spending far too long on the collage, making my head ache but I eventually finished it. Brighter on Sunday, we remarked on the noticeable change in light over the last few days, even when grey. Phil visited the nearby clough to report it totally sodden. Poaching overripe pears for dessert made my back ache and my mood plummet. Cheered by the tasty fruit and ice cream, I sat up to watch telly after dinner but had a mediocre sleep.

A record 600k jabs on Saturday brought the total to 9 million. Discussing overstocks going to less fortunate countries, shadow minister Rachel Reeves said the UK should inoculate its own vulnerable people first – very socialist, I’m sure! Her erstwhile boss Tony Blair waded into the paperwork row, admonishing the EU for being ‘foolish’. Macron defied speculation on another lockdown, shutting France’s shopping malls and non-EU borders instead. Across Russia, protests in support of Alexei Navalny involved dancing on ice and brandishing golden bog brushes – a reference to the Black Sea mansion allegedly owned by Putin. Liz Truss negotiated to join the Comprehensive & progressive Trans-Pacific Partnership (C&PT-PP). Emily Thornberry wondered why the country spent over 4 years leaving one trading bloc to join another. Fun and games!

Reference:

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

Part 38 – Gormenghast

“His mind was engaged in a warfare of the gods. His mind paced outwards over no-man’s land, over the fields of the slain, paced to the rhythm of the blood’s red bugles” (Mervyn Peake)

It Will End In Tiers

Orangey pink suffused the bedroom on a bitterly cold Monday morning. Phil cooked porridge for breakfast to warm us up but as he had to go back to the kitchen for missing items, I feared it would freeze. No internet meant no morning metro. He amused me doing dinosaur impressions complete with tiny arms. Since I couldn’t post blogs, I worked on the next part of the journal. Inevitably, the editing made my eyes go funny. In the afternoon, I went for a small top-up shop. Although I’d enjoyed Phil’s hot lunch of egg, beans and spam fritters, it meant a stacked draining board awaited, making cleansing groceries tricky. I huffed, puffed and collapsed on the sofa. Phil huddled by the radiator to ease his arthritis so I dismissed the idea of giving him a hard time to commiserate with his pain. As usual, I got no rest during my siesta, but felt lovely and cosy in bed.

Oxford University/AstraZeneca proclaimed their jab a ‘vaccine for the world’, commendably provided not-for-profit to developing countries. Apparently 70% effective if given in 2 full doses, but 90% if given in a half dose then a full dose – how did that work? The government had ordered enough to vaccinate 50m people in the UK with 4m already in government storage, but it wasn’t even licensed yet! Boris promised MP’s an end to the national lockdown on 2^nd December. Nationwide, non-essential shops, hairdressers and gyms would be allowed to open, but we’d all be in tiers again.

In tier 1, pubs could open, with a curfew and an hour drinking up time. In tier 2, there’d be no ‘wet pubs’ but eateries were allowed. In tier 3, only take-away and delivery was permitted. Kier called the strategy ‘risky’ as previously, the tier system led to areas drifting from one level to another and those in tier 3 seeing ‘no way out’. At the press conference, The Bumbler said many regions would be in higher tiers than before and wittered in his ridiculous metaphors: “(we) could now hear hooves as well as bugles coming over the hill,” but warned it would be months until everyone was vaccinated, and this was “the season to be jolly careful.” The Good Law project and Runnymede Trust sued Boris and The Cock for discrimination by appointing their crony mates to key Covid roles including Dildo, Kate Bigham and Mike Coupe (ex-Sainsburys’ boss). They called for a judicial review as fair competition rules were not followed, the jobs weren’t advertised, were unpaid thus not open to all, and breached the 2010 Equality Act – appointees were all white and able-bodied.

The Oxford Dictionary declared it impossible to select one ‘word of the year’ and listed 16. Not surprisingly, many were Covid-related including coronavirus, Covid-19, pandemic, superspreader, furlough, lockdown, moonshot, remote, staycation, unmute and zoombombing.

At the mercy of terrestrial telly in the evening, we watched Dispatches – Is Covid Racist? on Channel 4. The most startling revelations were that Filipino nurses were at scandalously high levels of risk in the early stages of the pandemic and 100% of doctors who died were black or minority ethnic. BMA surveys showed they were under more pressure to work in Covid wards with inadequate PPE. PHE found historic structural inequalities but the government denied racism. Cowardly Ministers declined to appear on the programme sending a mealy-mouthed statement instead. Dr Ronx Ikharia concluded there were uncomfortable issues to address that must be faced up to.

Phil complained about the amount of news and current affairs we’d viewed. “It’s not my fault we can’t watch escapist nonsense with no internet, is it?”

On a grey Tuesday, I texted my walking friend for an update. Required to wear full PPE including a visor, all she could see when working was a reflection of her own face. (I was later relieved to hear it didn’t say ‘face shield’ on it). I sympathised and asked her to keep me posted. I worked on the journal, then ‘Maple Leaves’ collage and declared it finished. Later in the week, I applied a coat of PVA and weighed it down with heavy books to seal it. I meant to do yoga in the afternoon but with no energy, I spent time in bed reading and trying to get warm, before a spot of guitar in the evening.

Having been assured they were fixing our phone line, it turned out they lied- putting the job on a list doesn’t mean fixing it! They then told Phil it was being done the next day, meaning they hadn’t even started. “That’s outrageous!” I exclaimed. “What if you’re old, live alone and don’t have a mobile?” “Don’t worry,” he assured me, “I’ve shouted very quietly at them and put in a claim for the 5 days of no phone or internet.”

Look North reported on the Astra-Zeneca antibody trial; an alternative for those who couldn’t have a vaccine. As 70% of the population had to be immunised for efficacy, we discussed the issue of vaccine take-up. I thought the idea of not allowing travel without it was fair enough, if it could be implemented. After all, you already needed certain jabs to go to particular regions of the world. “The hippies can stay in their little hovels. Anyway, a lot of sceptics and ant-vaxxers might come round from an altruistic viewpoint. I’m more worried the government will screw it up: ‘Oops! It was stored in the wrong fridge. The dog ate it. Sorry!’”

Following a cobra meeting involving the devolved leaders, the UK-wide agreement on enabling family Christmas dinners was confirmed. Between 23-27 Dec, up to 3 households could mix, in homes, churches or outdoors, but not in hospitality venues, with travel across borders allowed. Why on earth had they made it so people had to travel on a Sunday when the next day was a bank holiday? Bad enough on the rails with weekend engineering, Shatts told us not to use trains due to restricted capacity and Simon Calder popped up to say Kings Cross would be closed from 24^th December for a week. Cue road traffic mayhem! Bemused by ultra-cautious Wales agreeing to this ‘rule of 3’, Drakeford explained they’d had to find “a guided way to Christmas…(otherwise the) risk was very high that people would make up the rules.” Prof. Medley intoned: “we’re in a process…whereby the population’s risk of filling up the NHS is… being passed down to… individuals.” Prof. Hayward said it was: “throwing fuel on the Covid fire,” adding we were in ”danger of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.” As most opinion polls showed the majority of people didn’t think it was worth the risk with vaccines on the horizon, we observed that the call for a ‘normal’ Christmas was whipped up by TV news presenters already donning reindeer antlers: “bunch of babies!”

On the eve of Rishi Rich’s spending review, Mayor Burnman warned the north faced an economic crisis worse than the 1980’s. Trump instructed his team to make ready for Biden but denied that meant he had lost and vowed to continue legal fights.

The Big Freeze

Wednesday, work on the journal became difficult. I needed the internet to fill in news gaps and fact-check. We set off on the shopping expedition to the next town, postponed from the previous week.

Astounded at the price of the bus fare, we hoped it would be worthwhile. On the journey, we chatted to an old pub mate. He asked why he’d not seen any apple pictures on Facebook recently. I told him about the internet issues and how disgusting it was taking 5 days to fix it. “Yeah. I’m elderly and live alone. It would be awful.” The larger town market was even worse than ours, with only 3 stalls occupied. The indoor Market Hall was a better prospect. A purveyor of what we called ‘posh nosh’ was back. Due to health reasons, he’d stopped trading outdoors. “Our Sunday Market’s not the same without you.” I told him. “Well, it’s not the same full stop.” Phil wryly added. We availed ourselves of tasty local pies. The excellent café where we’d normally have bargainous all-day breakfasts displayed a sign for take-away chicken burgers. “Other burgers are available” a customer helpfully told us. “Thanks mate but it’s too late.” We sat in the community garden to eat among long shadows, nibbled brassica and straggly thyme obscured by leaf fall. Phil developed a headache as I headed to B&M. “You don’t need to come in with me.” “But I might miss something!” He made a bee-line for more spam.

In Lidl, we got some of the goodies we sought but the German speciality section was nowhere near as good as it used to be. A staple of festivities since childhood when my maternal granddad sent a box straight from the Nuremberg factory, I couldn’t have Christmas without the traditional treats. Imagine my horror at the stollen now in a luxury box at twice the price, and no spekulatius! Already fraught by the time we got home, I got a sharp pain in my lower back when sorting groceries, suggesting a pulled muscle. His headache persisted and he explained the trials of his brain resolving vision issues with his bad eyes. What a pair we made! On the plus side, we had internet. I caught up on news and deleted a pile of e-mail junk.

Rishi’s spending review started with the headlines ‘economic emergency’ and ‘deepest recession for 300 year’. In fact, 1709 was the year of the big freeze. There was a Public Sector pay freeze excepting NHS staff and those on less than £24k who would get an insulting extra £250. Dodds said: “The chancellor… clapped for key workers. Today (he) institutes a pay freeze for many of them. In contrast, there has been a bonanza for those who have won contracts… wasted and mismanaged public finance on an industrial scale… (and) takes a sledgehammer to consumer confidence.”

A plethora of unions decried the pay freeze. Rehan Azam, of GMB said (Rishi was) “on a collision course with public sector workers… we fought the public sector pay cap before and we busted it.” Mark Serwotka,of PCS and Mick Cash of RMT predicted industrial action. Meanwhile, Gail Cartmail of Unite called the £250 for the lower paid: “insulting, and compares badly with the inflated sums the government has wasted on PPE contracts for those with links to the Tory establishment.”

The living wage was going up 2.2%, there would be a £3bn ‘restart’ for the unemployed plus more dosh for Jobcentres and £4bn for ‘levelling up’ projects with a National Infrastructure Bank based in the north. £555bn would be spent on Covid in 2021; £18bn for PPE, tests and vaccines. What was the rest for? Rich tories? Overseas aid was cut from 0.7 to 0.5% of GDP, breaking a manifesto pledge. Baroness Sugg resigned saying it was ‘fundamentally wrong’, Justin Welby called it ‘shameful’ and Malala Yousafzai feared for girls’ education. Scathing attacks came from ex-PM’s Cameron, Major, Blair and Brown.

NAO reported £10bn wasted due to a lack of PPE supplies at the start of the plague. At PMQs, Keir asked for transparency on the waste of public money on useless equipment. The Cock told workers to stop ‘soldiering on’ when they were sick: “( the British are) peculiarly unusual for going into work when unwell.”

Vaccine hopes helped airline share prices soar and from 15^th December, quarantine could be reduced if travellers paid for a test that came back clear. P&O Cruises cancelled sailings until April 2021 due to ‘uncertainty around European ports of call’.

In The Hands Of The Gods

I arose feeling iffy on a misty Thursday but soldiered on. Phil again made porridge, leaving a nasty pan to wash and the gas ring on which got me riled. Controversial legendary footballer Diego Maradona died the previous day. Metro stole the show with their ‘in the hands of god’ headline. Belatedly posting the week’s blogs took ages, leaving time for little else. In the evening we viewed some much-missed escapism on Prime before reverting to current affairs. Justine Greening appeared on Newscast calling the government too short-sighted. Ex-ministers were always wise after the fact, weren’t they?

An update on the tiers from 2^nd Dec confirmed 99% of England’s population would be in the higher tiers. Only Cornwall, the Isle of Wight and the aptly named Scilly Isles would be in tier 1. Predictably, London was in tier 2 but at least Liverpool dropped from tier 3 to 2 due to sterling efforts. Manchester and all of Yorkshire except for North Yorks were in tier 3. The government promised an MP vote next week and a review on 16^th December. The postcode checker went live before the official announcement, causing chaos and the website to crash. Referencing the clearly coloured map of the country, Phil asked: “why do you need the postcode checker? You’d have to be an idiot to not know what area you live in!”

Pubs said it was their ‘darkest moment’ as Mitchells & Butlers announced 1,300 job losses (affecting All Bar One, Harvester and Toby Carvery – was that still a thing?) On Look North, Peter Kelly of PHE said while Leeds and Sheffield had lower infection rates than London, hospitals were under more pressure. Was that due to capacity, I wondered, and what about Nightingale hospitals? Curious, I researched the tier criteria, which were: number of infections overall, number of infections in the over 60’s, the rate at which cases went up or down, the number of positive tests, and pressure on the NHS.

But I didn’t find an answer to what on earth Prof. Kelly referred to as ‘the council of councils’. “That sounds a bit Gormenghast!”

Still feeling ropy Friday, I also had bad guts. Moaning at the injustice, I skipped morning exercise. I had a cheeky look at Oxfam Black Friday deals and asked Phil oblique questions to ascertain if an antique camera was worth the asking price. It wasn’t. That saved me a few quid! The co-op was very busy but manageable. Phil caught up with me in the seasonal aisle where I again searched surreptitiously for possible gifts. As he had a coupon for £5 off if he spent £50, we loaded the trolley with extra wine. After lunch, I spotted my elderly next-door neighbour with another woman hovering near the wall. I stood on the threshold to chat. They were assessing her garden for a possible spruce-up. Following a heart op early in the year and extended convalescence, she looked much better and said she felt it too. She was of course mystified by Phil’s cyber-jobs.

Sage gave the R rate as 0.9-1 but said infections and deaths were still high. How did that reconcile? Minister Jenrick suggested some areas might go down the tiers on 16^th December, but Prof. John Edmunds warned it was too soon. Gains of the Welsh firebreak were ‘eroded’ leading to new restrictions and NI started one of their own, to last 2 weeks.

Overnight cold persisted into Saturday, and mist obscured any daylight. With no inclination to go outdoors, I finished editing the journal, cleaned the bathroom, and watched lots of telly, joking about ‘Brexit Box’ in the ad breaks. “Soon, that will be all we can watch,” predicted Phil. After dinner, we watched films and drank red wine.

Sunday, we both slept very late. “That’s red wine for you!” Attempting to dress and breakfast quickly, the old bread had gone mouldy meaning I had to wrangle a new loaf out of its wrapper. With no hope of sourcing decent veg by that time, the idea of going to the market was abandoned. Instead, Phil went to the co-op and used another coupon for free roast spuds. We discovered they didn’t save any time and looked raw, well after the recommended cooking time, while the accompanying pies were burnt. Bizarrely, it all tasted good. I fetched angel chimes and advent candles from the attic – yes; that time of year already!

Rabid Raab on Marr said we risked a third wave if MPs didn’t vote for the tiers and hinted that regions might split to better reflect varying infection rates. To further ameliorate revolting backbenchers, Boris wrote to them promising that tiers would be reviewed every 2 weeks, some regions could move down a tier from 16^th December, another MP vote at the end of January, to publish evidence on which decisions were based, and a ‘sunset’ clause of 3^rd February. Negotiating with nature again, he’d obviously been listening to The Oracle of Manchester (aka a woman interviewed in the street) who announced it would all be over by Easter. The government ordered 2m extra Moderna vaccines. Amidst an ever-more confusing picture, 7 brands were on order in total, none yet licensed*. So much for roll-out from 1^st December. It was all too late for Dave Prowse, of Green Cross Code and Darth Vader fame, who died of Covid-19.

Covid dreams returned. That night, I had one suggesting it was wise to keep social distancing but not worry too much about cleanliness. That wouldn’t stop the incessant washing of hands and food though!

*Note: Full list of vaccines on order by the UK government: 1. Oxford University/Astra-Zeneca 2. Moderna 3. Pfizer/Biontech 4. Novavax 5. Valneva 6. GSK/Zanofi 7. Janssen.

Reference:

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

Part 27 – A Week Of Two Halves

A Close Shave

Hard to get up when the alarm sounded at 7.30 a.m. Monday morning, a mixture of excitement and apprehension cut through the fatigue. I engaged auto-pilot to prepare for our first break away from home since March. As the trip to Blackpool celebrated Phil’s birthday, this one to Southport marked mine. A trouble-free train journey was broken by a half-hour wait at Wigan, spent reading poems. Inscribed on the buffet windows, bright lights shone through peeling letters, making them hard to decipher. In Southport, we exited the station to gratefully remove our face-masks and walked through the busy streets to the apartment I’d booked.

in what turned out to be an eclectic area, the street buzzed with life. Boy racers lovingly worked on their car next door; a photo of Putin stared form a window across the road; minibuses collected workers (for field or factory?) in the early hours; vans delivered supplies to an Indian restaurant on the corner; two men navigated a cherry-picker to reach a roof, the blurb on the cab proclaiming ‘tree prooning’ (sic) among their services.

After a bit of a faff getting the room key out of the box with the twiddly buttons, we accessed the flat, unpacked, freshened up, ate a quick lunch, and headed back out to Lord Street. Perusing pubs and eateries, we were shocked how busy it was. So much for everyone being back at work and school! We confirmed a nice brasserie would be open for a birthday dinner and visited the quirkiest baccy shop in the land. With a window-display of clocks, watches and gaudy ornaments, the casual observer would never guess it actually sold fags. Across the road, a man on one of the many benches shouted at anyone within earshot that he was the mayor. “Well, he might be.” Quipped Phil. By the time we’d stocked up in Sainsbury’s, walked back and sorted the shopping, we were too tired to leave the flat again. Phil cooked dinner, we drank prosecco, caught up on news (regional travel corridors were now a thing) and cheekily logged into Netfilix to watch a film. I just about managed to stay up until midnight for him to wish me happy birthday.

Predictably scant sleep meant another weary start to Tuesday. A leisurely birthday morning (shared with the popstar Pink), involved gift-giving and my favourite brekkie before a short excursion. At the station, we waited in a queue snaking round the aisles of the booking office-cum-shop. Unable to see round the corner, we waited impatiently. As we navigated a magazine stand, we discovered only 2 people ahead of us, thus at a loss as to what had taken so long.

The regular stopping train took us to Hall Road. It was a short walk to Blundellsands, marking the start of Anthony Gormley’s ‘Another Place’ installation. Lots of space on the beach in spite of numerous people and dogs, we walked towards the sea. The soft sand squidged between my toes as we proceeded towards Crosby. A stick with rungs and a light on top stood in the middle of an inlet, as sand floated away in chunks. Fascinating as the phenomena was, we realised the tide was coming in, and unhurriedly started to retreat. Phil suddenly strode across a big stretch of water. Too wide for me, I walked back to a spot that looked more passable. And then my leg sank. Scared, I called out loudly to him. “I’m sinking!” “It’s only a couple of inches. Carry on!” “But my jeans are already covered to the knee!” “Trust me. I grew up round this stuff.” I gulped and went for it, inevitably sinking several times. Reaching safer ground, I was absolutely splattered! He had a similar experience but insisted it was because he was trying to get to me – likely story! Further along the shoreline we found a safer stretch to wash some of the mud off, then sat on concrete steps at the edge of the beach, to expunge more muck and dry out, thankfully aided by the warm afternoon sun. Concerned he’d only brought 1 pair of shoes for the whole break which were now soaked and muddy, he said they’d be fine “but Jasper Conran would not be happy.” Spotting the roof of Crosby sports centre (the starting point of our first visit to see the sculptures three years ago), I suggested we seek facilities. . Large signs on the beach access road pointed to rows of porta-loos in the carpark. A more comfortable walk back to the station, partly on sand, partly on prom, with a picnic break, enabled us to take in archetypal British seaside scenes. OAPs on deck-chairs, binoculars trained on the horizon (no doubt checking for illegal foreigners), summed it up nicely. In Southport again, Phil bought take-away coffees from a cheap bakery and nipped in Sainsburys for shoe-cleaning stuff. I waited in a small garden with an ornate fountain, fending off approaches from a man on the next bench. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” That got rid of him. Seated opposite the shop entrance, I observed a steady stream of taxis disgorging unmasked punters and drivers, until Phil finally re-appeared. “No-one knows what shoe polish is anymore.”

A Close Encounter

We finished the mediocre coffee with cake at the flat, showered, changed,and stuck jeans in the washing machine. Unable to fathom how it could possibly be a washer/drier as I’d been told, we hung them on radiators. Rested and cleansed, we headed back out for the evening. Hoping to catch sunset at the lakeside, we realised it was in the wrong place! We settled on wandering about in soft twilight, circuited Kings Gardens, round to the pier and onto the modern steel bridge leading back to Lord Street. Phil had booked the favoured bistro. Eating in an actual restaurant felt very special and I was comforted by ample space between diners and fountains of hand gel. But the experience was marred by an altercation at the end of our meal. A family group seated opposite, stood to take photos, and came within inches of our table. I politely asked a woman to move away which she did, only for another member of the party to make a show of brushing past Phil, making contact with his back. They then accused Phil of hitting them! Angry that my birthday evening had been ruined, I spoke to the waiting staff. Apologetically, they moved us to the back of the restaurant, allowing us to recover. They returned to present me with a pudding tray. Filled with every dessert on the menu and ‘happy birthday’ written in chocolate, it definitely made up for the unpleasantness! Too stuffed to eat or drink any more, we settled on a brew before going to bed.

The WHO said due to being too relaxed over summer, virus spikes were inevitable in the UK. Boris announced the new ‘Rule of 6’. From Monday 14^th September, it would be illegal for close encounters of more than half a dozen people, indoors or out. Scotland and Wales followed suit but excluded under 12’s. Shocking testing delays were blamed on labs and, according to Matt Cock, on too many ‘non-eligible’ people requesting tests. He was telling us get them the other week!

Fruits De Mar

In spite of developing a sore throat in the early hours, I had a slightly better sleep and rose on Wednesday determined not to be ill. We walked to the far end of the lake, over small dunes and across to descend steps onto a marshy beach. Beinga careful of mud and puddles this time, I wryly observed that at least signs on sticks marked the danger zones clearly, unlike the previous day. We succeeded in hunting down samphire. Picking proved tricky without uprooting the plants. A woman with a pair of scissors inspired me to use the penknife attached to my rucksack which made cutting the greener tops easier. Assuming she knew what she was doing, it transpired during a chat that she didn’t. I’d hoped to get some handy tips but instead imparted knowledge on how to keep and cook the wild veg. Continuing to the pier, we walked on crunchy shells, wondered at a mysterious spur in the distance but couldn’t be bothered investigating. Climbing steps onto the boardwalk, a buffeting wind forced us to retreated inland. Hungry, we headed down back streets to the source of the best fish n chips, according to google, pausing to marvel at the Brexit number plate on a laundry van (someone actually paid real money for that!) and what Phil called the ‘worst Debenhams ever’. It was in fact the back door, although the shop itself was defunct along with all the other department stores. We took our bulging take-away trays to eat in the flat. They possibly were one of the best ever!

Stuffed again, we dozed on the sofa, freshened up and went back out to walk the length of Lord Street. Between the numerous dead shops, definitely significantly more post-Covid, most charity shops survived. Disappointingly, hardly any units were open in Wayfarers Arcade. We flouted the daft one-way system to capture fabulous shadows cast by wrought iron beneath the glass roof. At the far end of the street, we examined a plaque on the clock tower. Now marking the entrance to the Travelodge and Morrison’s, it proclaimed the site of the erstwhile station for trains to Chester ‘across the dunes. Puzzling over how the hell that worked, we deduced later that it explained the mysterious spur and vowed to make it a mission at a later date. Back in the central gardens, we sat on a bench, supped take-way coffee from Remedy, and laughed at the antics of drunkards and pigeons trying to look hard. We picked up a few supplies to supplement a picnic-style dinner before returning to the flat.

The samphire required copious rinsing and picking over to remove grit and hard stalks – so much easier when someone else did the hard work! Still, it went well with salmon and Polish bread from the shop round the corner. Despite being so tired I could hardly keep my head up, we forced ourselves to drink a remaining bottle of prosecco. (Well, we couldn’t take it home!) Preparing for bed, I forgot the phone in my pocket and did the classic thing of dropping it down the bog! Still working after a wipe when I plugged it in to charge, the screen went black. As it beeped alarmingly Phil entered the bedroom. He took the phone case off, and said “It’s sopping wet. How many times have you washed it?” Not wanting to admit what I’d done, I was evasive. He seemed to get it working but not for long. Eventually, I had to own up. He placed the phone on top of the boiler and it appeared to recover overnight. Later in the week, unused features activated unbidden. The screen reverted to black and muzak emanated from the mic. Trying to get the icons back, I took a series of random photos. Luckily, one displayed a screenshot saying ‘accessibility shortcut is on’ enabling us to fix the issue. Another crisis averted!

On top of Pizza Express closing 73 restaurants, Jobs were going at Pizza Hut and Lloyds Bank. Boris tabled theInternal Markets Bill, allowing goods from NI unfettered access to the UK and making EU state aid rules clear. Ministers claimed the bill was a ‘safety net’ in case of a no-deal Brexit. An amendment to the finance bill planned to give government powers to designate which goods from GB to NI could enter the single market and thus be liable to EU tariffs. Effectively overriding the Withdrawal Agreement, Brendon Lewis admitted it broke international law. Several past leaders railed against the government including Brown and May who said it damaged trust in the UK. Needless to say the EU were not happy: if the UK wanted a free trade deal, there must be “no back-tracking” and threatened legal action. At one of his daft briefings, Boris gave more detail on the ‘rule of 6’ and rabbited about ‘moonshot’ tests. Another ridiculous target of 10 million a day with results in minutes. Yet they still failed to get the basics right!. He announced ‘Covid-secure’ marshals in towns and cities. Not mandatory and town halls footing the bill, only councils awash with Tory cash would be able to pay them.

Back To Reality

Thursday morning, my sore throat returned and still exhausted, I knew I was in for another bout of sinusitis. We had no option but to get up and ready for the off by 11.00. As we made to leave the flat, piled laundry bags suggested the cleaner was already in the building. With an hour and a half before our booked train home, we wheeled our cases round town and went in the market hall. I remembered it was carp but not that crap, Not even a pie to be had! In need of coffee, sitting at a table outside Remedy seemed safer than a garden bench with the luggage. The tiny cup was a rip-off compared to take-aways. ‘Safe distance’ stickers marked paving throughout the centre. On the way to the station, one in particular caught my eye as layers of graffiti summed up differing opinions of the pandemic.

The ‘bus train’ stood at the platform. we grappled with the lack of baggage spac and did our best to sit comfortably during the unfamiliar route via the Covid hotspot of Bolton, alighting at Salford Crescent. During the wait for our connection, we negotiated the steep steps to the station exit for a snack. Surveying dismal surroundings, Phil laughed: “I see no crescent.” With little but student flats in sight, we wondered what they’d done with the natives! A better train whizzed us across the Pennines. the local park was now busy with after-school kids. Barely able to drag my case by the time we got to the house, we dumped the lot, sorted some washing and went to lie down. Alas, the first siesta of the week was thwarted by the relentless noise of men doing stuff outside. Unable to ease my fatigue, severe back pain or sinuses, I almost cried with frustration. Preparing dinner, I could hardly stand. Was it the fatigue or the fact we hadn’t had a proper meal all day? A few hours decent night-time sleep was disturbed by hot flushes and worsening sinusitis symptoms.

Genuinely ill Friday, I was resigned to a stint in bed. After a bath, I fetched the laptop and made a start on a heap of tasks including work on the journal and photos from Southport. Discovering the co-op website showed all current offers and enabled ordering to ‘collect in store’, the search algorithm proved illogical. By the time I’d finished the order, my slot had timed out. What a waste of time! I wrote out a list for Phil to go shopping the old-fashioned way. Attempts to rest were again thwarted by the interminable noise of men with power tools. Phil came to sit with me at coffee time. His phone sounded an alert and he made for the front door just as my new ipad case dropped through the letter-box. Only ordered the previous night, a text told him it was a coming a second before it arrive. They miracles of modern technology! I ate dinner downstairs and stayed up to watch films but retired early.

As the UK R rate reached 1 plus, local restrictions came into force for Birmingham, and Portugal and Hungary were added to the quarantine list. The new TIT App was to be launched 24^th Sept. soon to be mandatory to take patron’s contact details, pubs were urged to display posters with QR codes for quick scanning. Amidst the Brexit wrangle, Liz Truss actually got her trade deal with Japan ‘in principle’, including PDO status for cheese. Her obsession had obviously paid off!

Saturday, I felt slightly better, but returned to bed after breakfast. The sheets really needed changing and dust expunged. I opened the window to get some fresh air, then shut it again sharpish against the onslaught of a blustery wind. I collapsed on the bed to recover before responding to an update from Elder Sis concerning mum’s affairs.

He displayed child-like excitement over Leeds United being in the premiership. Playing Liverpool in the first game of the season, it was a game of champions. They put on a creditable performance, losing by a narrow margin, in an empty stadium. Some lesser league matches had small audiences of actual fans but no pies – “What was the point of going then?” I asked.

On a very warm and sunny Sunday, I was still fatigued and unable to spend long out of bed. I edited photos from the trip and drafted a haiga. In addition to android sparking up features unbidden, leading to renewed Blue lines had appeared on the left side of my phone screen with issues on the key-press area housing the hash key. Phil concurred it was due to the dowsing and suggested I put it “in the hottest place you can find.” Moving it about in patches of sunlight the next couple of days improved the situation but I was resigned to the lines being permanent. It could be worse.

In the last hurrah before the ‘rule of 6’ came into force, several fines for gatherings were issued. Former PMs Blair and Cameron joined in the condemnation of Boris’ Internal Market Bill while a tory MP resigned and the Attorney General threatened to do so in the event of law-breaking. The fracas rumbled on into the following week.

Reference:

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

Part 24 – Omnishambles

Turkeys Voting For Christmas

I continued to be mainly bed-ridden for the first half of the week, observing a mainly grey scene occasionally broken up by thunder and rain. Phil looked better but left exhausted from pain over the weekend. Monday, I posted blogs and rested in the afternoon, unusually sleeping for 20 minutes. Feeling marginally better, I was cheered further by another huge government U-turn, on the A level results fiasco – bullied by a bunch of teenagers having a march! Phil said it boded well for negotiating trade deals with hard-faced Republicans after a no-deal Brexit! Gavin Salesman didn’t get sacked although rumours circulated that he had tendered his resignation, to be refused by Boris. I guessed the Bumbler was waiting for more fiascos with the GCSE results and schools re-opening in September: then Gavin would be for the chop ( as already hinted at). Later in the week, it emerged Ofqual had made the decision on the A level grades, but Gavin claimed it was his idea. They just couldn’t stop lying! Pathological!

The Railcard people asked for screenshots of full-priced tickets I’d purchased. I sent them on Tuesday, hoping for a refund. While not promised, why else would they ask?

I’d been annoyed at the lack of help at mealtimes, for which Phil apologised, saying he was busy. I kept schtum but if he would keep working all the time… while I stayed abed in the afternoon, he embarked on errands, which made him wobbly. I was really fed up and miserable at us both being ill. A woman from the other end of the street called round. While she talked to Phil on the doorstep, I eavesdropped out of view at the top of stairs and caught the odd word; ‘old mill development’ ‘ builders’ ‘ asbestos removal’. He agreed to be on the e-mail list. At about 10.00 p.m., she circulated a letter from the Street Action Group (SAG) to the developers, requesting comments by 5 p.m. the next day. Much too late for me, I planned to look in the morning, but forgot. I sat up watching Prime, then struggled to stand and berated myself for being out of bed so long. Regardless of fatigue, I tossed and turned with mind-churn. Thoughts randomly included the neighbour stuff (why were we only being included in the group now? Were we an afterthought?) The meditation soundtrack lulled me in and out of sleep but I didn’t settle properly until 4.00 a.m.

The news that PHE was to be abolished had seeped into the press overnight Sunday/Monday. In a move to deflect blame from the government, Matt Cock said their pandemic activities would merge with TIT in a new National Institute for Health Protection, effective from next month. And who got to head up this shiny new body? Yep. The incompetent posh Tory wife, Dildo Harding! The Cock denied cronyism, saying she was the best person for the job. Even the right-wing press proclaimed ‘omnishambles’. Where next for Gammons? If they wouldn’t stand for it, would backbench Tories rebel? Wasn’t that turkeys voting for Christmas? I predicted a resurgence of Brexit parties if the government collapsed and forced another election.

Moonshot

Wednesday, I really struggled after only a few hours’ sleep, but forced myself to get changed as my PJ’s stank. I straightened the bed and opened the window for some fresh air but had to close it sharpish as the dismal weather merged into tropical storm Ellen. I spent the rest of the day working on the laptop including a ‘response’ to StandUpX. New research showed face coverings reduced exposure to droplets by x10k, providing more ammunition and a useful illustration. Not that it stopped the hippies and gammons continuing to protest and spread misinformation about mask-wearing. (See image below).

The Cock hit the headlines again, bleating about mass population testing. The ‘moonshot’ tag made no sense. What the hell did that mean? Blair resurfaced to say the government were ‘running out of time’ to avoid a ‘second wave’. In Greater Manchester, the organiser of a Gorton house party last Saturday claimed only 20 people were invited but she had a massive gazebo in the garden. A ‘closure order’ banned anyone visiting for 3 months; effectively a ‘house lockdown’. Oldham faced possible pub closures while the mayor said it was pointless as people would just go to other areas within GMC and Yorks (was that why our town was always packed?)

Warm sun made a brief return on Thursday. Somewhat recovered and less fatigued after a better night, I performed a few stretching exercises in spite of the persistent achiness and tummy issues. Phil queried the rules about wearing masks in cinemas but not if eating: “so you could just continuously scoff popcorn. Then you wouldn’t need to wear one”. I spent the morning sat on the bed dealing with admin on the laptop. The Researcher had sent a mini-update on the project to which I replied but heard nothing further. I jotted down a very short list of presents for my birthday in a few weeks’ time. The thing about not buying stuff is you realise you don’t need any of it!

Lunchtime, I felt up to getting out in the sun and suggested going to a café with outdoor seating. The town centre inevitably heaved. We wandered up to the outdoor market. A dismal affair. Useful stallholders were absent, the gaps filled with pointless crap – on the one day it was meant to be real stuff!

We found a table outside the Turkish place and basked in sunshine. Eating al fresco at the med-style café as people strolled up and down in summer garb and buskers played, gave a holiday feel.

We visited a couple of charity shops. Phil found an old camera and I bought books (I got through novels at break-neck speed this year). After some aimless wandering, we sat on a bench near the old bridge. A crop of wild carrots studded with red poppies and yellow flowers attracted my attention, but the stench of dog poo and a fly infestation made me retreat from taking close-ups. Across the river, kids in baseball caps threw food at ducks. A small filming crew of a woman and two men came and stood by the railings. “Are we disturbing you?” they asked “No, we were going anyway.” One of the men said: “you don’t have to on our account. You won’t be in it and if you are, we’ll glam you up with the make-up kit.” “Are you saying we need glamming up?” I asked. “I meant him.” (indicating Phil). “I meant him too!” Phil asked what they were filming and the woman told us it was a short film about businesses’ flood resilience. A good location for that. Back home, I lay down again but unbale to rest, I went out to potter in the garden and bring flowers in. An earwig wove round the petals of a hydrangea bloom so I had to take it out again.

U Turn If U Want To…

Scientists at UCL claimed contact-tracing apps were unlikely to reduce the spread of coronavirus. Even if 80% of us used them, other measures were needed such as closure of indoor spaces. Meanwhile, kids were revealed as silent ‘super-spreaders’. They carried more virus when apparently healthy than seriously ill adults. Portugal was removed from the quarantine list but Croatia, Austria and Trinidad & Tobago were added. The government ignored Simon Calder’s plea to give more notice: effective from 04.00 Sunday, no flights were due to leave Croatia until after that time. Having been caught out himself, Shatts said things changed quickly and only travel if you are content to be quarantined when you come back.

It was reported that a boy of 16 from Sudan died crossing the channel in a dinghy, with a shovel for an oar. It later transpired he was a man of 26, but still a tragic casualty. Nasty Patel was accused of heartlessness. Pierre-Henri Dumont, National Assembly representative for the Calais region exclaimed: “How much will it take for the British to regain an ounce of humanity?” Detention Action, said: “We have repeatedly warned (Patel) it was only a matter of time before her toxic policy to deny safe and legal routes to the UK would cost lives. This death lies firmly at her door.”

Back on the exams front, record high GCSE grades were awarded following yet another U-turn and another reprieve for Gavin Salesman. Pearson’s delayed BTEC results, allegedly to be in line with higher A level marks.

Friday morning, Phil received a flurry of messages from SAG. All the neighbours were going outside at 9.30 to berate the developers for placing the asbestos suction machine too far into the road. What on earth did they expect them to do? Years ago, we attended a meeting to challenge the old mill development. The woman now leading the SAG’s main gripe was that people in the proposed flats opposite would see her knickers. A local expert on the matter informed her this would not be enough to overturn the planning permission, but a lack of infrastructure and parking might. A few of us agreed to take photos of the street at different times of the day to demonstrate how little space there was. As far as I know, I was the only one that did. Anyway, we lost that battle. I was glad I’d been left out of it this time! I tackled the worst of the grime in the kitchen and went to the co-op. We needed quite a big shop so Phil came to help carry stuff back. Dry when we set off, a ton of rain suddenly threw itself down. A man just about to exit swore: “where the fuck did that come from?” “The sky,” Phil giggled. We waited inside until the deluge abated somewhat and made our soggy way home. Things got fraught, sorting the purchases, washing bottles, and stuffing things in the fridge. Exhausted, I collapsed on the sofa. After lunch, I researched places to stay in Southport for my birthday. The favoured Clifton Spa was shut until further notice, which was a pain. I’d expected the large hotel to be safely open and anticipated a dip in the pool should the weather be too inclement for walking. Further searching uncovered a small self-catering apartment which I reserved.

As the R rate increased to as much as 1.1, restrictions were lifted in Wigan, Rossendale, and Darwen, but increased in Oldham, Blackburn and Pendle (no socialising or non-essential travel, but pubs stayed open). I hoped we didn’t face a similar scenario, disrupting birthday trip plans (at least we could cancel our accommodation for free up to 4^th Sept.). The M&S sandwich factory in Northants shut and The Cock rabbited about fines for non-compliance with quarantine. The tenant eviction ban was extended by 4 weeks; nowhere near enough to avoid an increase in homelessness in time for Christmas. Government debt reached £2 trillion, more than GDP, while Apple hit a net worth of £1.5 trillion. Almost enough to buy us out!

A Series of Slightly Unfortunate Events

On a changeable Saturday characterised by miniscule sunny spells amidst squally showers, I stayed home, wrote a haiku and fixed things – dead watches, jewellery and a phone stylus. Phil joined in the maintenance to replace overhead bulbs in the kitchen so we had light at last, and bodged the bedroom door which kept sticking (taking longer than anticipated of course). He also popped to the shop amid an alarming shower. As the rain became heavier, it was positively scary-sounding late into the night.

Sunday, I awoke fuzzy from mediocre sleep and watched aghast as a stupid woman on Sunday Morning Live said not everyone wanted a coronavirus vaccine as they might get tracked. This reference to the idiotic Bill Gates conspiracy nonsense went unchallenged!

Witless claimed the risks from kids missing school was greater than the adverse effects from coronavirus. Police reported more than 100 illegal gatherings over the weekend, including a rave in Deighton, Huddersfield. Boris planned to increase fines of up to £1,000 in time for the bank holiday weekend. I doubted that would stop them!

Unsure what to do on another wet day, I cleaned the bathroom leading to a series of slightly unfortunate events. As I shook rugs out the window, bits of hair and grit went everywhere creating another chore, then I managed to drag a scarf under my foot from the bedroom to the bathroom meaning I had to handwash it, then the tap fell to bits! Exacerbated, I noted the sun momentarily made an appearance and I considered going outdoors, when clouds immediately returned. I switched to sewing and settled in front of the telly, to be irritated further by an intermittent signal! Thoroughly fed up, I then developed a nasty stitch in my side just before dinner. It eased of slightly after eating but I could barely keep my eyes open and went to bed early. Regardless of the tiredness, sleep eluded me for some time.

Reference:

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

Part 7 – Fun: Interrupted

Have I got PPE?

Top geezer Captain Tom Moore opened the Nightingale hospital in Harrogate on Tuesday. The total raised for the NHS stood at £27m, and £29m by Monday 27^th. He re-set his Challenge to walk 200 laps. A 6 year old with spina-bifida commenced to emulate the feat.

Unlike the archetypal April, the weather stayed fine and warm all week. On a sunny afternoon forage to town, I felt slightly nervous as I forgot to take a scarf. But we encountered no problems on the quiet streets. I suppressed a guffaw as a young lad walked on the opposite pavement wearing a mask on his chin. Arguments that face coverings brought disadvantages definitely held some truth. I for one ended up fiddling with the thing thus risking the transfer of any contaminants to my face rather than shielding it.

While the convenience store met most of our requirements, we investigated a newly opened Asian supermarket to see what they had to offer. It was not a traditional shop – signs indicated an ‘order and collect’ service only; provisions strew the floor; a woman with a list in one hand searched boxes with the other. Aware of our hovering by the narrow doorway, she looked up from her task “Hello”. “Hello”, I returned, “how do we know what’s in stock to put in an order?”. She hesitated, then said “You could ask us!” I thought it was bit daft not having a list on the window. As we walked away, Phil suggested we could have at least got noodles, but I couldn’t be bothered going back. On the way home, we spotted the friend of our vulnerable next-door neighbour again, this time sat chatting to someone on a bench in the memorial garden, still heedless of social distancing.

In need of a lie down, I stuffed earplugs in to drown out the noise of them bloody kids, with little effect. I gave up, feeling decidedly unrefreshed, and caught up on the news.

The weekly ONS statistics revealed 18.5 k deaths so far this year, double the norm, with a quadruple rise in care homes (accounting for 10% of all deaths from Covid-19).

An interesting programme on BBC 4 described the lengths people went to in the olden days in the quest for effective drugs, resulting in lots of analgesics being created, but none as good as morphine. The next episode told of the search for anti-biotics and anti-virals, with a great deal of self-experimentation. The Scientists of today could take some lessons from that…

Wednesday morning, I was awoken by a loud crashing noise outside. Annoyed, I glanced at the clock to find it was much later than I’d thought and forced myself up. Phil announced he’d made $200 last month on Getty Images. “That’s a nice bonus” I said. “It’s not a bons, it’s my wages!”

MPs had returned to Westminster with only 50 allowed in the commons at one time and 120 on Zoom. Bumbling Boris had shared a cabinet meeting publicly on the go-to video conferencing app of the moment. I wondered if they knew of the risks of hacking and ‘Zoom Bombing’.

Keir Hardy did quite a good job at his first PMQs. Parrying Rabid Raabs’ clichés about ‘working flat out’ and ‘straining every sinew’, he countered: “There’s a pattern emerging here. We were slow into lockdown, slow on testing, slow on protective equipment and now slow to take up offers from British firms.”

I would go one step back. They were slow from the get-go: All ports and travel in and out of the country should have been shut down straight away, as in New Zealand, then we wouldn’t be in this mess! With Keir’s law background, he sounded like he was practicing opening remarks for the criminal negligence claims that are likely to be brought against the government when the dust settles.

Raab insisted they were on target with tests, capacity currently standing at 40,000 a day. But he could not answer why only 18,000 had been done the day before. On PPE, inevitable questions arose about why they wasted time, effort and money trying to source it abroad when 8,000 UK companies had offered to make it. Matt Cock’s platitudes and more clichés ensued; ‘at peak’; ‘ramping up’), following ‘The Science’… Change the record!

With new analysis, queries ensued as to why certain groups of the population (particularly ethnic minorities and men) suffered the worst outcomes from Covid-19. In the absence of the government taking the issue seriously, Labour announced they were conducting their own research, led by Trevor Philips.

3 - Dandelions Close Up — Dandelions Close Up

Riveting as the politics was, the allure of afternoon sun proved stronger. As we headed for a nearby favourite clough, I took my DSLR rather than the compact camera for the first time since lockdown, hoping I’d be able to stop long enough for close-up shots. The entrance path blocked by workmen and a group of people coming the other way, we hung back then ran through, holding our breath. Gasping for air amidst the trees and flowers, our shadows lay atop stagnant water of old mill ponds where small fish swam just below the surface.

As a small family vacated the area, we clambered over trunks and rocks to the small waterfall. With water levels so low, we hopped from rock to rock in the brook to get nearer than ever before to the tinkling cascade which resembled a fairy pond. Ensuring it was safe, we rested on a felled tree fashioned into a bridge, surrounded by nature on all sides.

Boxes dotted on street corners contained random items including child’s toys, rucksacks, kitchen gadgets and bric-a-brac. Normally, I would have derided the practice as ‘middle class dumping’ but with charity shops shut, it seemed acceptable. I availed myself of a couple of free books.

That evening, I developed a scratchy throat and although I fell asleep fairly quickly, I woke several times with various aches and pains and odd flitty dreams involving wearing hijabs and going to the beach. Not surprising with all the talk of PPE, trying different configurations of scarf-wearing when out and about, and planning routes based on maximum people-avoidance. Muslim women could teach us a thing or two about personal protection and social distancing!

Hopes that we would not need to take these measures forever rose as vaccine trials started, but a warning it could be a year until we knew if they worked, immediately dashed those hopes. Witless said that social distancing may need to stay in place until Christmas. Images of pub mayhem at yuletide sprung to mind.

A Dog’s Life

Thursday morning; early mist obscured the natural alarm of sunlight. I slept irksomely late, having planned to go shopping early. I performed the morning routines as quickly as possible, including the rigmarole of preparing to go outdoors. With no bread stall on the market, the conga line for the fish van snaked through the square. I took a deep breath and resigned myself to a long. The sun, now strong, shone right in my eyes forcing me to turn round. I chatted to the woman behind me. She said she usually shopped on-line, but a sick dog had persuaded her to visit the market for the first time since lockdown to buy it fresh fish. Several questions came to mind – how do you manage to get on-line groceries delivered every week? You buy fresh fish for your dog but not for yourself? Is it a magic dog? Perhaps luckily, the line moved leaving the questions unanswered. A woman swathed in voluminous skirts with a massive pram and a gang of kids stood in everyone’s way, whingeing about queues. I was sorely tempted to tell her to piss off, but kept schtum. Sooner than I’d dared hope, I reached the counter and engaged in friendly chat with the fishmonger as I stocked up for a couple of weeks. Inevitably knackered by then, I went straight home, knocked for Phil to open the door and make coffee while I dealt with the purchases and flopped on the sofa.

Temporarily refreshed, I executed an idea for ‘Corvus Bingo’ (that had come to me during PMQ’s) and composed a new Facebook page, with links to the WordPress blog.

After dinner, I developed a scratchy throat and earache, took aspirin and slept reasonably well. But Friday morning, I felt groggy and struggled to stand on wobbly legs. My symptoms followed the usual pattern for chronic sinusitis and I resigned myself to a few days in bed.

Phil undertook the weekly supermarket trip. Hearing him come back, I called down to him several times. He stomped upstairs and said testily, “I’m not a dog! Been sorting groceries after the stressful shop – full of hippies again”. I wondered if the hippies had migrated because the snobby organic shop and worthy bakers now only accepted card payments. If so, the purveyors might want to re-think. Fetching lunch, I discovered Phil had washed and stored all the shopping (even items that could have been decanted or stayed in bags for a few days; no wonder he felt exhausted). Similarly shattered from the foray downstairs, I tried hard to rest in the hot afternoon. But inevitably there was no respite from the noise of people socialising below the bedroom window.

In the news, Sturgeon came up with a draft plan for gradually lifting lockdown in Scotland. Matt Cock announced workers could apply for coronavirus tests to be done in situ or remotely. The website locked by lunchtime. And there were no checks on whether applicants were ‘key workers’ ( since when did that include journos?) Toddler Trump outdid himself with moronic quote of the day:

“I see the disinfectant, where it knocks it out in one minute. And is there a way we can do something like that by injection inside or almost a cleaning, because you see it gets in the lungs and it does a tremendous number on the lungs.”

So, disinfectant had not outsmarted the virus, unlike the antibiotics! Raucously derided, Joe Biden tweeted ‘I can’t believe I have to say this but don’t drink bleach’. Trump tweeted he would no longer attend Whitehouse daily briefings as they were a waste of time – a move that lasted 2 days. Being a narcissist, he just couldn’t cope without the attention, even from the ‘fake press’ as he called them.

Over the weekend, sinusitis persisted. I tried not to despair at missing the gorgeous weather. Freshly sun-dried bed sheets, open windows and profusely green trees across the valley helped to bring the outside in. Mainly bedridden, I wrote ‘confined walk 2’ for CP1ⁱ . Chore-wise. I managed to clean the bathroom. The layer of grime looked stark in the bright daylight. In danger of making me sicker, it had to be expunged. I also did the majority of the cooking, trying not to get irritated at the lack of help in the kitchen, particularly on Saturday night. In hindsight, I probably took on too much. Managing to sit in the living room to watch films in the evening, I returned to bed hardly able to keep my eyes open with a headache in 2 places.

Dissing ‘The Science’

4 - Self-Styled Brainiac Brian-Cox — Self-Styled Brainiac Brian Cox

Extreme tiredness and mediocre sleep led to added aches and pains Sunday morning. The kitchen was still a mess from the night before, increasing my anger at the lack of help. I railed and stomped upstairs to sulk and fume alone. As the anger subsided, I designed a birthday card for my nephew. Opening Facebook to post it, I discovered the layout had changed, adding to my frustrations. Why did they keep doing that? I stayed in bed until dinner time while Phil went out for some air, returning with sweets to cheer me up. Thankfully, he had cleaned the kitchen and with leftovers from the night before, it was a lot less hassle making dinner. I went up soon after, enjoying the quiet in the dark. But as is often the way on a Sunday night, I tossed and turned. Hot flushes increased my discomfort.

Monday morning, Phil looked as fuzzy as I felt. He’d also suffered insomnia, due to suspected migraine. I said it could be hay-fever and suggested he take antihistamine at bedtime. I made a big effort to do small chores. As I took the recycling out, I enjoyed a spell of actual sun for the first time in 4 days. Then, the stupid milkmen backed their float up the street. With no attempt to vary their routine, they parked in the middle of road, darting between houses, forcing me to back off. I went back to bed. Phil showed me an abstract art he made the night before on his ipad. Fantastic of course, but no wonder he had migraine! I posted blogs including a haigaⁱⁱ. In the afternoon, I rested lots, conscious that I had to be up for an Ocado delivery early evening – the only slot I could get.

Over the weekend, I caught a segment of the pointless briefing. UnPretty Patel mouthed platitudes about the number of deaths and the sacrifice of frontline staff – made me want to puke! Blair’s smug foundation also re-emerged with meaningless charts. Did they know a graph was not ‘The Science’? Phil joked “they’ve invented contact tracing.” On the Andrew Marr, Rabid Raab assured us he’d been “doing his homework”. Good boy! Have a gold star! Perhaps he’d been helped by Scumbag Cumberbatch who, it emerged, had attended meetings of SAGE (the government’s special advisory group for emergencies, rather than a popular accounting software package as I’d thought). Not being a scientist by any stretch, the leftie press wondered what ‘spin’ he was putting on ‘The Science’. Popstar turned self-styled Brainiac Brian Cox (and nemesis of my role model Count Arthur Strong) popped up and said there was no such thing as ‘The Science’. Well, that’s that debunked then! Spoilt sport!

Bumbling Boris returned from Chequers on Monday morning. Speaking from the special lectern outside number 10, he offered new, waffling on about the need for a gradual lockdown during ‘this dangerous phase’. (Latest data showed a fall in the number of deaths but likely inaccurate due to a lag in counting weekend figures). A Tory crony hailed Boris as the government’s ‘best communicator’. Most likely true, but not saying much. Boris obviously wanted to be seen as a Churchill but fell far short of his predecessor’s oratory skills, never mind actions.

Research by King’s College on how people dealt with lockdown made sweeping sexist conclusions that Tory male Brexiteers over 55 were more ‘accepting’ of the rules. Hmm! They’d obviously never been stuck in a supermarket aisle behind lolloping Gampires*. Female Remainers, meanwhile, were ‘suffering’ with higher levels of anxiety, depression, insomnia and unable to block out thoughts about coronavirus. Reckoning resistors made up around 9% of the population, they said they were largely male, aged 16-24 and voted Labour. Tis lot were most likely to argue, use drink and drugs and diss social distancing. And were unsurprisingly more likely to believe in conspiracy theories (half thought the virus was created in a lab and two thirds that most people had it already).

As images emerged of suspected UFO’s over Florida, Jeremey Vine came up with the lamest conspiracy theory ever involving a ‘something event’ that happened in Russia, leading to ‘stuff’. Never had him down as a drug-taking hippie! But then again, let’s not forget the Eamon Holmes 5g masts debacle.

*A note on Gampires – an amalgam of gammon and vampires. A term invented by Phil, inspired by a picture of Alan Titmarsh, as seen on the popular teatime quiz Pointless.

References:

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

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

The Corvus Diaries

A Journal of the Coronavirus

Tony Blair