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 102 – Happy Anniversary?

“The question for us now is to be or not to be… now I can give you a definitive answer. It’s definitely yes, to be” (Volodymry Zelensky)

Years And Years

Getting off to an iffy start, there was much to do before our trip the first weekend of March. Assailed by a cold wind despite the sunshine on the way to the station, I noted trees felled by recent storms and strange amber leaking from stumps in the park. Collecting train tickets, I found a seat reservation in the machine and handed it to the booking office. Whoever left it behind wouldn’t be happy on the day of 3.9% train fare hikes, the biggest for 9 years. The Bus Recovery Grant was extended to October in what the DoT called ‘the final tranche of pandemic-related support to operators’. As the March 1^st marked the start of meteorological spring, St. David’s’ day and Shrove Tuesday, we celebrated the latter with a variation on Mexican pancakes. Butternut squash was a great addition even with the extra cooking.

A scratchy throat overnight, I was tempted to stay abed Wednesday but didn’t. I posted the last journal entry before a break, packed a case and opened the top bedroom cupboard searching for a bag when the curtain pole clattered to the floor! At least it didn’t land on my head this time. Lacking the energy to get cross, I exclaimed in mild annoyance. Phil agreed the stupid changeable weather was to blame and allowed more time for new plaster to dry before reinstalling the pole, temporarily pinning the curtain up.

Ukrainian Ambassador to the UK Vadym Prystaiko got a standing ovation from MPs at PMQs. Applause not normally allowed in the commons, Lindsay Hoyle made an exception for ‘his excellency’. Ukraine ambassador to the USA, Oksana Markarova guested at the State of the Union address, where Uncle Joe said Putin had ‘no idea what’s coming’, but republicans whinged the latest sanctions were too little too late.

Thursday, I texted The Researcher with thanks for the coffee and ideas for exhibition venues, deleted a pile of dross e-mails and booked places on a free workshop (part of the arts festival) before shopping. In nasty grey drizzle, red water flowed downstream and sand edged the road – was there flooding? A ruddy-faced driver testily informed me the pavement was on the other side. I shouted back: “Thanks Mr. Bleeding Obvious!” Phil later said I should’ve yelled ‘eff off, gammon!’ The market crap, I got a few items in the convenience store and walked back on the main road, tricky with barriers on the pavement, and spotted a woman I knew from art classes. A fellow walker, she read my Valley Life articles and I suggested she might also like the workshop. She said maybe we’d meet for a walk one day but as we’d pledge to do that years ago, I didn’t hold my breath.

Giving into pressure, IOC banned Russian and Belarussian athletes from the Paralympics. The port of Kherson was the first Ukrainian city to fall to invading troops. A tank convoy edged towards Kyiv, Russian schoolkids got a lesson on why NATO was evil and Serge again threatened global nuclear war. Did someone say 1984? In the latest conflagration in the Bradford district, Dalton Mills, Keighley was destroyed.

Cloudy again Friday, at least it was dry. Going to the station, Phil’s case handle fell off. I pointed out it wasn’t zipped at the bottom to which he retorted that wasn’t his immediate problem. “It is if all your clothes fall out!” Glad we weren’t going to Chester as that train was cancelled, ours was on time for a scenic ride. The sun emerged as we approached The Fylde and stayed thus for most of Phil’s birthday weekend, which was a first for off-season in Blackpool (see Cool Places 2ⁱ).

Quite a struggle to be out of the apartment Monday, we just made it by checkout time. I paused in the garden to re-distribute weight in a heavy rucksack when the landlady appeared. Enquiring after our stay, I mentioned Phil’s birthday. “21 again?” she asked wryly. Back in our home town, it felt years since we last walked the canal, especially as changes were afoot at the lock. The house freezing and Phil hangry, we hurried to reheat Lancs pasties. I began unpacking (but didn’t finish till later in the week), took rubbish out, uploaded photos and rested. Metro not downloading, I suspected Northern Rail wi-fi had messed up the internet connection. Almost asleep on unbelievably achy legs, it took some time to get any sleep.

According to John Hopkins University, 6 million people worldwide had now died of Covid and many suffered from shrunken brains. Grey matter decreased by up to 2%, making complex tasks harder but training could help. Weekend promises of ceasefires unfulfilled, Russia continued to shell Ukrainian cities, deliberately killed civilians and announced so-called safe corridors to Russia and Belarus – were they having a laugh? Amidst what the UN refugee agency called ‘the fastest-growing refugee crisis in Europe since WW2’ (1 million so far), UK government rhetoric unsurprisingly proved to be a load of crap as no visas were available at Calais, leaving evacuees stuck in France. HMRC withdrew the winding up order so Liberty Steel stayed open, but the long-term future remained uncertain. The Doncaster Great Drain Robbery was solved when cops stopped a car full of manhole covers after a tip-off.

As I hadn’t worn a mask the whole weekend, I didn’t bother in the co-op Tuesday. It wasn’t very busy anyway. I saw an old art teacher who told me she had a new studio near the canal. Saying it was freezing, she advised waiting for warmer weather to pop in. On the way back, a quartet of geese sat on the street below. A Woman smoking a fag on her doorstep guessed they expected food.

Volodymyr Zelensky historically addressed The Commons via live video-link from Kyiv, quoting Shakespeare and paraphrasing Churchill. To his pleas, Boris reiterated they couldn’t impose a no-fly zone but sanctioned more Russian oligarchs including Abramovich a couple of days later. Chelsea FC in limbo, Phil uncharitably hoped they’d go bankrupt before the end of the season.

Slightly iffy on Wednesday, I stayed in to edit Blackpool photos, posted a haiga and watch PMQs. Keir asked about a U-turn on energy costs and windfall taxes, and others queried the number of Ukrainian refugees allowed into the UK – 1,000 was pathetic when other countries had accepted tens of thousands. Why did they insist on normal visa checks and put an extra processing centre in Lille of all places? We agreed Nasty Patel was not just evil but also incompetent. “Not for nothing is she called Pritti Hopeless!”

Decent sleep three nights running, I felt cheerier on Thursday until I remembered leaving an annoyingly slow laptop to update and waited years for it to spark up so I could write. Phil fixed the bedroom curtain pole. Plagued all day by a whiny crane wince, siesta time was even less effective than usual.

Previously unhit eastern and western Ukrainian cities were bombed as Antalya hosted the highest level ‘peace talks’ so far. Serge told a pack of lies and wouldn’t settle for anything less than total surrender. Reports of deliberate targeting of maternity and children’s hospitals and use of thermobaric bombs emerged. Heineken, Starbucks and Coca Cola ceased trading in Russia. Phil’s Shitterstock questions were all war-related with Ukrainians asking how to get cash and Russians asking how to pretend they weren’t Russian!

Friday was warm enough to ditch leggings under jeans for the first time of the year, but it didn’t last. I found a mislaid curtain ring in the bedroom so Phil took them down yet again! The co-op busy, I navigated round dithering gammons, sighed at gaps on shelves and gasped at the price of filters. But I did get £4 off groceries with a member’s offer.

Global Covid rates fell by 5% on the previous week and deaths by 8%. But they rose 46% in the Western Pacific. Overcome by omicron, Hong Kong had 150 deaths daily, prompting mass quarantine. Caused by the infectiousness of sub-variant B.A2, more mixing and waning boosters, ONS revealed a week-on-week rise for the first time since January across the UK. Highest in Wales at 1:13 people, Scotland had the most ever at 1:18. Up mainly in the over 55’s, hospital cases rose 9%. With no scientific justification to boost the healthy, WHO DG Tedros Adhamon bade rich countries send vaccine to Africa.

At the weekend, I baked banana cake, posted blogs and wrote a haiga. Roused by sparkling skies Sunday, I got ready for a walk, stepped outside and declared the wind too biting. The trellis had blown down again. Phil was fixing it when next-door-but-one told him Elderly neighbour had died. Obviously at ‘end of life’, at least her husband was prepared for it. Unwilling to disturb him, I posted a card through the letterbox and potted salvaged veg ends. Phil popped to the co-op, helped with some clearing up then abandoned me to sit on the kerb watching footie on his phone – Leeds won for a change.

Monday sunny with a delightful breeze, I hung washing on the line and headed out to see the woman next door burning paper in her garden. The smoke blew straight at my sheets. Phil joked she was destroying spy code. It turned out to be personal documents and I offered use of our shredder in future. She then waylaid me discussing the deceased neighbour and the war. Versions of events from her Polish relatives straying into conspiracy theory territory, I extricated myself. Walking Friend appeared behind me at the co-op till, visibly pained with neuralgia from vicious moorland wind. “Well, if you will go hiking in all weathers!“ We arranged to go for lunch Wednesday. Late afternoon, Phil took his camera to town but the decent light gone by then, he just went to the shop.

Over the weekend, Russia widened bombardment to Ukrainian cities previously considered safe. The UK government announced The Homes For Ukraine Sponsorship Scheme wherein you got £350 a month to host refugees. But you had to know them so they could get visas. Lisa Nandy likened the hair-brained plan to a dating app. “They’ll do anything apart from take action themselves! Utterly useless!“ I spluttered. Phil reckoned it was a ruse for Boris’ mansion-dwelling mates. Foisted on NGOs with no time to prepare or do proper checks, charities called it a shambles. The Refugee Council were concerned by red tape, resourcing and safeguarding issues. Nevertheless, 122,000 Brits had signed up by Thursday. Amid speculation of using oligarch’s empty properties, London Makhnovists squatted one in Belgravia owned by Oleg Deripaska. Russian TV editor Marina Ovsyannikova ran on set with signs reading ‘no war’ and ‘they’re lying to you’, risking 15 years jail. 44 migrants drowned crossing from West Africa to The Canaries in a dinghy.

No Celebrations

Walking long overdue, we left the house aimlessly on Tuesday, puzzled at weird shiny stuff round empty recycling bins and rescued a useful-looking grill-type device before going up the ancient cobbles to the upland village and down through woodland, spotting several spring wildflowers in the shape of celandine, snowdrops from which an early bee grazed, and curious larch blooms (see Cool Placesⁱⁱ).

Compulsory jabs for care home workers in England were scrapped and Sturgeon announced Scottish restrictions would go as planned 21^st March, except face-coverings. In a show of support not endorsed by the EU, Polish, Czech and Slovenian leaders travelled by train to Ukraine.

Preparing for lunch out with Walking Friend Wednesday, she made me jump knocking as my back was turned. Too chilly and damp to sit outside the tearooms, we occupied an indoor table close to the service shelf. I flinched every time staff clattered crockery. Over mini-brekkie selections, we discussed the street art and starlings of Blackpool, her recent walks, and The Poet’s 75^th birthday which I’d missed due to illness. Debating my recent mask-ditching while the Scots decided to keep them, BA.2 was on the rise and latest research suggested waning protection from jabs, I rationalised that I rarely went to pubs and never to crowded places. I nipped in the sweet shop for cough drops and a chuckle over falling asleep at work (a labour lord was scolded for snoozing during a debate). We perused a new display in the Town Hall, learning about a flood plain which preceded the town centre – that explained a lot. In Boots, I managed to pick up conditioner instead of shampoo – why did they make the packaging nigh-identical? Weary and sodden, I trudged home. In the evening, I re-arranged the Manchester trip, placed an Ocado order and donated to DEC for Ukraine. That night, a whirring mind and a bright almost-full Worm Moon hampered sleep. I eventually dropped off using the meditation soundtrack and woke in early grey gloam with achy arms.

Russia bombed the historic theatre in Mariupol. Of 1,300 civilians sheltering in the basement, 300 were subsequently found dead. Putin ranted about ‘unpatriotic’ Russians who lived abroad chomping foie-gras, calling them scum and traitors. Did that include his daughter with her London mansion? After 6 years imprisonment, Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe and two others returned from Iran. The government had finally paid the tank debt. Why didn’t they do it years ago?

Exhausted and heavy-headed from lack of sleep, I forced myself up Thursday. Watching news, Phil commented emotive words concerning the war were nauseating. I replied it caused me deep-down sadness and considered taking in a refugee but we agreed it wasn’t feasible; charity donations would have to do. As I hung washing on the line, the neighbour from the end toddled past on sticks, making progress after a hip operation. As a shower descended, she advised leaving the laundry out while I went to the market. On my return, Phil was heading for Leeds.

Three weeks since all restrictions were lifted, covid infections rose by 68% in our region within a week. Leeds Prof Mark Harris said ditching masks was premature and when free testing ended, we’d have no way of tracking the virus. Andrew Lee of Sheffield wasn’t unduly concerned about BA.2; although more infectious, deaths stayed low. Meanwhile, New Zealand would admit jabbed Aussies from 12^th April followed by travellers from other visa-waiving countries 1^st May. BoE raised the interest rate to .75% and P&O sacked 800 staff via zoom, replacing them with agency workers. Dubai owner DP World said they’d lost £100 million during the pandemic (even after tons of government money for furlough) and the ferry company wasn’t viable in its current state. As armed guards came to escort them off ships, seafarers on the Pride of Hull mutinied. The RMT and MPs decried the action and government said they’d look into its legality – surely they knew it was illegal! Ed Millipede attended weekend demos and Mick Lynch claimed foreign agency workers got a derisory £1.81 per hour. It took 10 minutes for Ben Wally to realise a call purportedly from the Ukrainian PM, was actually Russian spies – what a doofus!

On QT, Ukrainian MP Lesia Vasylenko was very civil about the lack of military help, thanked the British public for their support and requested we stop buying goods from companies still operating in Russia, including M&S. I considered amending my Ocado order but didn’t get round to it. Lord Frosty Gammon complained to Newscast that namby-pamby liberals rendered decision-making difficult. He didn’t mention the Festival of Brexit, which was apparently underway all over the place. He patently saw no reason to celebrate.

After another bright night complete with a high moon, frosty roofs sparkled in sunshine Friday morning. Phil said the ‘Pageant Master’ on BBC Breakfast sounded more like a fantasy film character than organiser of the queen’s anniversary celebrations. In the co-op, I found bacon in the corner where pizzas used to live – had it been there all along? Shocked at the cost of baccy, I asked at the kiosk if I’d missed the budget. The cashier replied the prices changed weekly. I’d never heard that before! At least I had another £4 coupon towards the groceries. Phil came to help carry and giggle at a gaggle of geese squatting on the street below. A friend’s mum soaking up rays outside her house reckoned they picked at moss between the cobbles rather than waiting to be fed.

ONS figures showed 1:20 Brits had covid week ending 12^th March. 1:14 in Scotland, they had the most hospitalisations ever, but Sturgeon went ahead relaxing measures from Monday. All remaining covid travel restrictions were scrapped from 4.00 a.m. UK-wide, with contingencies for ‘extreme circumstances’. Lviv, the main exit point for refugees and entry point for aid, was pounded. So on the anniversary of annexing Crimea, which Putin celebrated with a rally, there was no such thing as a Ukrainian ‘safe city’. RT’s UK licence was revoked.

Attempting to prevent Saturday hangovers, I’d bought low alcohol wine but wobbly and phlegmy on Saturday, I blamed the histamines in the sickly sweet concoction. Phil reckoned it’d be nice in summer with ice. I saw a notice on Elderly Neighbour’s Facebook page. The funeral would be at a faraway crem. Sunny but windy, Phil said he was going for a walk but I didn’t feel up to it after being out twice during the week leading to severe tiredness. I washed the bedroom curtains we’d taken down last month and hung them on the line, disposed of a dead rubber plant and used the pot for an oversized money plant. The job was prolonged, partly by ridding the soil of weird green stuff and by the whipping wind. I crouched in a sunny corner when a huge gust blew a pile of dead leaves in my face! The recent widower thanked me for the card as he walked his dog past. I said it was impractical for us to go to the crem but we’d go to the more local wake. Before putting the pot back on the hearth, I decided to clean it. Taking all afternoon, it left me slightly out of breath which I suppose was good and with backache, which wasn’t. Phil went to look for rooks. He found none in the park busy with a football match or in town rammed with drinkers, tourists and a window shopper commenting: “it’s like that programme Money for Nothing!”

A bit groggy on the equinox, it wasn’t as bad as on the low-alcohol plonk. Phil unusually drank water. “It must be summer!” “No, but it is officially spring.” Tempted by the sun, I took photos of delicate flowers in our window box before we headed for the park, where families ate ice cream and teenagers picnicked. Resplendent blossom marked the start of a blooming good walk, past creamy daffodils near the station, magnificent blackthorn on the country lane and showy garden shrubs. In the next village’s refurbished co-op, we got 3 for 2 snack foods. The cashier asked did we need to pay for fuel? I should have said did we look like we had a car? Famished, we hurried up to the canal to sit on a bench overlooking the lock and stuff grub in our gobs before dogs mugged us for it. Returning home, we detoured off the towpath to explore a path over a small bridge and wondered at totems to Odin at the moorings (see Cool Placesⁱⁱ).

I went up early to apply massage oil to a stiff, painful shoulder. Sympathising, Phil rubbed it far too hard. The now waning moon appeared like a squishy orange in the inky cold night sky.

Mariupol a wreck, 10 million Ukrainians had fled the country, and there were claims some were forced into gulags. Boris lambasted for comparing their stand against Putin to Britons voting for Brexit, Rishi Rich distanced himself: “people can make up their own minds”, he said on Sunday Morning (not for the first time). He proceeded to mouth a pile of platitudes on fuel prices and the cost of living.

A hard frost at first, Monday warmed up slightly then turned cold and dull in the afternoon – so much for the lovely spring weather! Getting back to spring cleaning, I tackled the ‘kitchen island’, cluttered with empty jars and spider crap. I asked Phil to help scrubbing the back wall. He said he was busy. “I know. I’m only asking for a bit of help.” He obliged later. During breaks from the tedious chore, I posted a haiga, hung washing out, got rid of rubbish, booked train tickets for Manchester, messaged our friend the details and worked on blogs but had to give up with head fug.

Covid cases still rising, spring boosters were offered to over 75’s and vulnerable over 12’s. Prof Kirby nicked my line from October 2020 ‘I predict a riot’ if lockdowns were re-imposed (see part 32).

Death And Taxes

Frost-free and hazily bright on Tuesday, a bee buzzed in through the window crack in the bedroom. Phil shooed the persistent blighter out. As I urged him to bathe, he replied: “I will when I’ve done this work.” “You’re always working.” “I was very busy yesterday.” “You have to wash and eat!” Off to collect tickets again, I was frustrated by traffic on the main road, took short-cuts to the park and zigzagged to avoid loiterers. At the station, I asked a member of staff about swipe machines – not for oyster-style cards as hoped, but flexi season tickets. I whizzed round the co-op and asked my namesake at the till for a replacement ‘bag for life’ to be told they didn’t do them anymore. Instead, she gave me a compostable one, which ought to be free. “You should be glad we’re not doing plastic.” “Yes, but they’re reusable, not single-use. And why do we have to pay for bags that aren’t plastic?” What a swizz!

As the fall in covid deaths stalled, I read about Deltacron. The hybrid of Delta and Omicron arose in France mid-February, and there were 60 logged cases so far, spreading to Holland, Denmark, the US and UK. Cases in the Latter two varied from European mainland versions, suggesting multiple re-combinations.

Another greyly polluted day in the valley, I woke later on Wednesday and briefly felt the benefit of extra sleep. On finding a net bag of damp socks, I railed at never-ending chores. Downstairs, I had another fit at buried Ocado bags, dug them out before the delivery arrived and watched PMQs followed by Rishi’s spring statement. Sacked P&O workers were belatedly offered severance pay, which would entail losing rights. Boris reported they possibly acted illegally and could face fines of hundreds of millions. Keir said if he wasn’t all mouth and no trousers, he’d do something about it. Quite! There was no ‘possibly’ about it! Inflation for February at 6.2%, and National Insurance going up in April, Rishi Rich announced the threshold would rise by £3,000 from July and basic rate Income tax would fall 1% in 2024. He took 5% off fuel duty and abolished VAT on insulation, heat pumps and solar panels and green energy company tax. The household support fund for Local Authorities was doubled. Billed as a giveaway, Paul Johnson of IFS said it only benefited rich pensioners and landlords. There was certainly nothing in it for us. Tax increases disguised as cuts, Rachel Reeves likened it to Alice in Sunak-land. And what did he mean the ‘work starts today’? they’d had 12 years! The Bumbler later hinted at more help with the cost of living in autumn.

Cleaning the bedroom I found more dust lumps on the bedroom. Phil reckoned they went up in warmth and descended in cold. So it was bits of us! Further hampered by assorted stuff falling on the floor, I got exhausted and narky. After lunch, I tried writing but head befuddled, speculated on going outside. As it became even hazier, I lost the will. I retired early for a bath which failed to help with sleep or an achy shoulder. Unable to still my mind, the meditation soundtrack sent me into intermittent slumber.

The second anniversary of the announcement of lockdown #1 was marked by a noontime minutes silence for over 188,00 UK deaths, and buildings turning yellow. Poland wanted a NATO peace-keeping force in Ukraine which Serge said was asking for war. Madeleine Albright died of cancer, aged 84.

Despite the lack of sleep, I was determined to make the overdue trip over to Manchester on Thursday. Unrecognisable and infested by students, it was a good job the main streets were in the same place! We had a lovely day involving culture, photography and meeting an old friend. Supping at her ‘local’, we caught up on news and experiences of covid. She became upset discussing deaths of close ones, for which I was sorry. Saying goodbye, I experienced the first hug with a friend in over 2 years! (see Cool Places 2ⁱ).

Having grazed on convenience food all day, I relished leftover bean salad for dinner. They didn’t seem to eat veg in Manchester! Exhausted, I tried to still my churning mind by concentrating on the hooting of an owl when the stupid generator started droning. The mediation soundtrack allowed a few fitful hours.

On QT, Mark Serwotka of PCS, said Rishi’s inadequate response showed he didn’t know, understand or care. Dom 2 Jollies called him an alien and the stupid photo-op wherein he borrowed a car and struggled to swipe a card, demonstrated he was out of touch. Lemon-sucking Demon Hinds tried to defend the awful government. Lisa Nandy yelled that not a word he said was true. An audience member echoed my question on why refugees from different countries were tret differently? Why not sponsor an Afghan? “Cos they don’t pick cabbages!” Phil answered. P&O boss Paul Hebbletwit admitted they broke the law not consulting as unions wouldn’t have sanctioned the fire and re-hire but claimed Grant Shats knew of the plot in November. Mark insisted the practice allowed on the statute books by the tories, stop now. Later, Shats and Boris called for Hebbletwit to go and pledged to close the loophole in the law so companies operating from UK ports paid minimum wages. Ships subsequently seized at, Shats belatedly wrote to P&O demanding they reinstate sacked workers. Hebbletwit refused.

Rudely woken by canal engineering works early Friday, I felt unrested and drifted off frequently during the day. Decorating Neighbour’s car idled outside the house. He told me the battery was crap. “If I die of pollution I’ll know who to run to!” I joked. When I came back from the co-op, we chatted while he washed the car. Observing I looked tired, I related our trip to Manchester. He’d not been since the Arndale Centre was built! A young woman stuffed flyers in letterboxes, informing us of a nearby shoot for Happy Valley 3. We shared sightings of Sarah Lancashire and locations of previous series. “Never mind that. When The Gallows Pole comes out, it’ll be rammed” I warned.

After the Finnish PM said Boris lived in ‘Brexit la-la land’, a clip emerged of The Bumbler at a Brussels meeting isolated from other leaders. NATO members pledged troops to reinforce eastern flanks, but not to do more within Ukraine. EU figures showed 3.5 million refugees, 2.2 million in Poland. Ukrainian ombudsman Ludmyla Denisova said 402,000 were taken to Russia against their will. Not disputing the figure, the Kremlin claimed they were ‘relocated’ from Donetsk and Luhansk.

Waking early Saturday, Phil was discombobulated as the clocks had already gone forward in his head. Covid rates rising across the UK except Northern Ireland, Dr. Chris told BBC Breakfast there were less hospitalisations and fatalities because of herd immunity. Protection waned but vaccines still guarded against severe illness. I felt vindicated on my mask-ditching. I continued cleaning outside to discover a metal plant stand overgrown with ivy which took ages to extricate. Phil came out to sit in a patch of sun, do tiny work, sweep up and spot wild garlic sprouting in a pot.

Using this as a gauge, I ignored Sunday wobbliness to forage. After a hard climb up, we selected sparingly from the early growth. The clough now popular with guardian families, a small child sniffed the fragrant leaves and rubbed his tummy but his parents vetoed picking. Coming back down, small yappy dogs switched from paddling in the stream to harassing us. As I froze with fright, the owner said: “They’re alright.” “Well, I’m not!” I retorted. He obligingly brought them to heel so we could continue unimpeded.

On the anniversary of the enforcement of lockdown #1, 200,000 schoolkids were absent with covid. Taking belated offence at a GI Jane joke levelled at his wife, Will Smith hit Oscar host Chris Rock. As the academy dithered about whether to withdrawal his award, Smith gave a tearful acceptance speech, went partying and made a half-hearted apology. Headlining for days, the stunt overshadowed celebrations of diversity.

Oversleeping Monday, we were fuddled and slightly ailing. I complained of dusty layers in the box room, prompting Phil to hoover. I tackled life admin and small chores, getting distracted rearranging pots on the garden wall and discovered new flowers on the tiny plants from Christmas. Curlews wheeled in the early dawn light Tuesday. I worked on the journal and went on errands with mixed results.

Dodging marauding schoolgirls, I got nowt in the convenience store or Boots but enjoyed a good whinge in the sweet shop at soaring prices and found lampshades in the homeless charity shop. That evening, we spent ages trying to find The Ipcress File on ITV hub. After convoluted sign-in and searching, it couldn’t be found on the smart TV, even though it appeared on the website. We gave up and watched Netflix instead.

After extending Partygate interviews to 100 more revellers, The Met issued 20 fines. More to follow, Number 10 maintained Boris didn’t mislead parliament saying no rules were broken, even though this proved they were. Rayner railed: “After over 2 months of police time, 12 parties investigated and over 100 people questioned under caution…Downing Street has been found guilty of breaking the law.” The next day, Keir asked Boris at PMQs if he should resign and Rabid Raab suggested the law had clearly been breached but that didn’t mean his boss lied. A year since they began painting hearts on the wall, Hannah Brady of Covid-19 Bereaved Families accused the PM’s team of ‘regularly and blatantly’ breaking “the same rules that families across the country stuck with even when they suffered.” Peace talks resumed in Turkey. Abramovich again attended the negotiations. As it emerged he’d fallen ill at earlier meetings along with two Ukrainians, poison in the drinking water was blamed. Losing patience with NATO, Vlod hinted at pledging Ukraine’s neutrality in exchange for security guarantees and discussions over Crimea, while Russia said they were scaling back operations around Kyiv and Chernihiv to concentrate on Russian-speaking areas. Some saw glimmers of hope but others just more lies. Saudis blamed Houthi rebels for ‘jittery’ oil supplies.

Wednesday, Elder Sis got her MBE at the palace. The photos she sent blurry, better versions appeared later on Facebook. I got my brother to re-add me to the family group, even though I hated WhatsApp. Preparing for Elderly Neighbour’s wake, it started sleeting. “I’m not walking in that!” We waited at a freezing cold bus stop, alarmed at an odd kid doing strange moves under the shelter. I tracked the journey on google maps but the driver went so fast, I lost track and overshot the cricket club. Flakes blowing in our faces, we walked briskly along the road, through a little gate and across the pitch. We knew nobody in the clubhouse except The Widower. Where were all the other neighbours? We grazed the buffet, looked at photos and hovered to say hello. The Widower claimed not to know half the people either. Short speeches and a note from Adrian Lester followed. Coincidentally at the palace too, I wondered if he met Sis. The ice broken, we chatted to grandkids and a couple from Manchester. Describing our recent visit, they said they never went into the city centre. The snow seemed to stop and as a bus sailed past meaning a half hour wait for the next, we took shank’s pony using a shortcut to the canal we’d seen a woman use. Over a funny stone bridge spanning the river, moorings were bedecked with flowers and a mixed duck paddled: “Mandallard!” we declared. It soon resumed snowing so we rushed on, sheltering briefly under bridges.

Pat Valance told the S&T committee the current covid peak might be ending but with more deaths and the threat of potentially more severe variants, the road ahead was ‘lumpy and bumpy’. NAO reported £3.2 billion spent on unsuitable PPE and £700 million on storing it. Meg Hillier urged government to “get a grip.” Credit card debt rose to £1.5 billion in February. Forecourts failing to pass on fuel duty reductions, 10,000 consumers signed a petition to cut it by 40%. Fizzog uncovered at Prince Philip’s memorial service, Sturgeon was accused of hypocrisy as she extended mask-wearing in Scotland until Easter.

A snowy scene Thursday prompted Christmas jingles. Facing the window doing exercise, the sky visibly changed from grey to blue. The snow melted by noon but followed by more wintry showers, I submitted to the cold and put the heating on advance before the increased price cap kicked in.

The day before mass free testing ended in England, YouGov found 13% had never taken one and 45% still wore masks – more like 10% by my estimation. 179,000 schoolkids, 9% of teachers and 3% of hospital staff had covid, the most since January. Hospital cases the highest since February, numbers on ventilators stayed low. GDP grew 1.3% in the last quarter of 2021. Gas websites crashed as customer tried to input metre readings before the disgusting hike in the price cap and standing charges – what did that have to do with the price of fuel? Putin threatened to cut supplies of unfriendly countries who didn’t pay in roubles. Hartley-Brewer was incredibly the only one who made sense of the war or gas prices on QT. On the last Newscast before she changed jobs, Laura K interviewed Rishi Rich. Claiming: “I know it’s tough yah!” he said it wasn’t acceptable to target his wife whose dad owned Infosys which allegedly invested in Russia, but joked: ”At least I didn’t get up and slap anybody.” No mention that Akshata Murthy didn’t pay UK tax on her earnings! It was about time we celebrated the anniversary of the 1990 poll tax riots with another one!

References:

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

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

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

Part 88 –Off The Rails

“This was the first test of ‘levelling up’ and the government has completely failed and let down everybody in the north” (Keir Starmer)

Hitting The Buffers

No way I could do anything Monday morning, I crawled back in bed. Frustrated at hitting the buffers again, I kept occupied posting blogs and writing, until the inevitable head fug set in. Phil’s crafty homemade bread looked hefty. Very tasty, it got eaten before becoming a Midsomer murders weapon! After dinner, we watched part of the World Cup qualifier. England slaughtered San Marino 10-0 in a ridiculous match. Why were the tiny team even in the running?

16-17 year olds to get a second dose, Goblin Saj said he’d take advice on boosters for the under 40’s. Boris repeated “storm clouds were gathering over Europe” and Oliver Dowdy said it was up to us to prevent a lockdown Christmas. But festive dinners were back on the menu as thousands of foreign workers were recruited. Only half the available visas taken up before the deadline, it was judged enough to kill turkeys. Labour called for publication of papers on Owen Paterson’s advocacy for Randox and details of government contracts awarded. They also planned to investigate time spent on second jobs and force a vote to ban MPs from paid consultancies or directorships. Boris later copied them. Keir hailed it as a victory. A PM spokesman called Belarus forcing a migrant crisis and trying to undermine the EU ‘abhorrent’ and vowed to hold the Lukashenko regime accountable. After a taxi exploded outside Liverpool women’s hospital Sunday, cobra raised the terror threat level to severe. The passenger asked to be driven to the hospital just before 11 a.m., when remembrance services took place. Later named as Emad Al Swealmeen, he blew himself up. Driver David Perry escaped uninjured. Anti-terror officers questioned 4 people and conducted forensic searches. It emerged the bomb contained ball bearings which could have inflicted serious injury.

I slept deeply well into Tuesday morning until roused by Phil. “Is it late?” “Yes. Shall I open the budgie curtains?” “No, I can do it. You shouldn’t really wake me when I’m ill. “Sorry; just making sure you’re alright.” Less fatigued but sneezy, I worked on the journal all morning. While Phil went to the co-op, I took washing out the of machine, struggled taking the basket upstairs and collapsed on the bed to read the nature trail booklet I got in the charity shop last week, when the phone rang. A very nice Dr. Jekyll arranged for a self-test kit to be left at the surgery reception for me. Quiet time wasn’t quiet at all as the chainsaws predictably started up at dusk. It was also a struggle to sleep at night-time.

ONS reported 995 deaths w/e 5^th November, the highest since w/e 12^th March. Jeremy Vine said 94% of Singaporeans were vaccinated and estimated 5 million refuseniks in the UK. Where did he get that from? The Tesco Christmas ad garnered 3,000 complaints as Santa brandished a Covid Pass. Politico revealed 47 companies got PPE contracts via the ‘VIP lane’ as recommendations from ministers and top civil servants were seen as ‘more credible’. Russia blew up a satellite, ISS astronauts had to shelter and the USA said they were weaponising space. Unemployment down to 4.3%, employment and vacancies were up. How come? Were they made up jobs? The Nord Stream 2 Pipeline was held up by a need to be registered as a German company. Recalling Phil’s experience of trying to navigate their complicated system, I exclaimed: “Mein got! Good luck with that!” Phil chuckled: “You must go to the post office in Stuttgart…”

The Great Train Robbery

Forced up after hardly any sleep Wednesday, I felt really crap. Phil half asleep, I fetched brekkie from a freezing kitchen, got back in bed, wrote ‘Autumn Medley’ for Cool Placesⁱ and watched PMQs.

The tory MPs who bothered to turn up, appeared in masks. Keir asked had Boris broken his promise on Crossrail for the North? Boris replied: ‘wait and see’, as the IRP* signalled ‘the biggest programme of investment in rail for a century’ and levelling up across the UK. Turning to another broken promise, Keir asked the PM to confirm scrapping the eastern leg of HS2. Boris blathered that northern people would benefit massively. Keir noted he’d still not said yes. Going onto Owen Paterson, he advised the PM to do the decent thing and say sorry for giving the green light to corruption. Boris reiterated the need for a cross-party approach to ensure nobody exploited their position and asked Kier how he earned money from law firm Mishcon de Reya before becoming leader. Lindsay Hoyle admonished, it was for him to answer, not ask questions. Keir called him “a coward, not a leader.” Spending weeks defending sleaze, “waving one white flag won’t be enough to restore trust.” (he subsequently retracted ‘coward’ as unparliamentary language). Boris went on about working together, addressing the appeals process and accused Keir of trying to prosecute others for actions he’d taken himself. Hoyle waded in again: “We play by the rules, don’t we?” and Keir added: “Upholding standards didn’t last long…when someone in my party breaks the rules, I kick them out. He tries to get them off the hook.” A full independent investigation was the only way to get to the bottom of how Paterson helped Randox get £600 million in contracts. Boris later told the commons liaison committee it was a mistake to try to save Paterson and suggested he was misled by colleagues.

Unable to get to shops, I placed an Ocado order, adding some Christmas stuff, and bought a couple of things from evil Amazon. The café owner texted asking Phil to take his pictures down. “Maybe you’re not the best artist in town after all!” I jibed. Actually, it was to make space for tinsel. He also received an invite for a booster. Where was mine? Had it failed to come because my phone was updating all day? I looked on the NHS central system but the local health centre not an option, I left it.

Due to energy, fuel, food and hospitality costs, inflation reached 2% in October, twice the BOE target and the highest in a decade. Lidl to increase wages by 6% from March, they’d be the best-paying supermarket. BBC news went to Belfast where Lord Frosty Gammon was after an agreement to alter the protocol. If that wasn’t possible, he’d use article 16 to suspend the parts he didn’t like. Acknowledging difficulties, the EU had already come up with a ‘reasonable package’ but Frosty wanted more radical change. Nasty Patel said a ‘dysfunctional asylum system’ allowed the likes of Al Swealmeen to remain and carry out terror attacks. That’s your fault! As Thangam Debonnaire pointed out, tories had been in charge for 11 years!

Still crap Thursday, I became exhausted after bathing, changing sheets and fetching coffee and dossed in bed before working on the takeover blog for The Researcher. It looked better than I remembered since leaving it when overtaken by life events last month. Phi went to the co-op and noticed the front door had been washed. From the landing window I saw the window cleaner’s van and advised Phil to be ready for the knock. He went to the kitchen but sure enough, the window cleaner rapped on the door. I shouted down, to be answered by the window cleaner. Eventually Phil heard me, paid and went back to making lunch. Getting afternoon coffee, I noted Phil had scrubbed the washing up bowl to blinding effect.

Saj promised the NHS Federation they’d get what they needed. The Environment Agency were investigating 2,000 sewage treatment works with findings possibly leading to prosecution and fines. Shats announced the IRP aka The Great Train Robbery. As expected, he scrapped HS2 to Leeds and Northern Powerhouse Rail (NPR). Instead, there’d be £96bn to upgrade the East Coast mainline and improve existing track (£42bn of which was already committed to HS2 between London and Birmingham). Tracy Brabin at Leeds station said it wasn’t what was promised. Anger from the Northern Research Group and in the commons, Keir said Boris had ripped up promises and failed the north: “You can’t believe a word the PM says.” Idiotically dressed up in orange at a Network Rail logistics hub near Selby, Boris retorted that was ‘total rubbish’: “Those extra high-speed lines take decades, and they don’t deliver the commuter benefits…we will eventually do them.” Money for Leeds super-tram was confirmed and Khan asked for another £1.9 bn for TfL.

On Question Time, Stephen Flynn, SNP labelled the debacle just another broken promise to add to a long list: ‘just look at the record’. Tory Mims Davies insisted they’d been honest. Stella Creasey guffawed, her own backbenchers were red-faced with shame. Creasey criticised Nasty Patel’s’ divisive immigration language and said we didn’t know if those arriving on boats were ‘illegal’. As 125,000 asylum-seekers awaited decisions, they always looked for someone else to blame. Mims asked Steve why Scotland didn’t take refugees. He snapped back, because they didn’t get any money to pay for it, adding the swell of refugees was our fault for warring in the Middle East and we had a duty to look after them. Discussing MPs second jobs, lawyer Nazi Afzal suggested they pick fruit and stack shelves. Good idea! I’d add clean toilets! A brainless Canadian psychologist said only 3% of the population were psychopathic and being corrupt was counter-productive. An audience member shouted: “why are the 3% in charge then?” creating much mirth.

Laura K interviewed Irish PM Micheal Martin for Newscast. He blamed all the problems on Brexit. The agreement signed in good faith, there weren’t ‘an abundance of checks’ at the border and the EU sincerely wanted to engage and get a solution; possible with goodwill on both sides. Previously saying it’d be ‘reckless’ to trigger article 16, he was encouraged by dialogue between Frosty and Maros Sefcovic and diplomatically pleaded: ‘don’t make it another nightmare Christmas!’

Backtracking

Very bright early Friday morning, I peeped through the curtains to view a bright dawn with blue sky and arty clouds, but the sun didn’t last long. Feeling slightly better but still fatigued, it took a while to come round. I worked on blogs and spotted a message saying the amazon package would arrive later. I told Phil not to answer the door. “Why? Is it a nutter?” It came when he was at the co-op, disturbing my quiet time. I stuck a hoodie to stand at the bottom of the stairs while a young man handed me the parcel. I faffed with packaging, hid the contents, lay back down again, then Phil returned, rousing me again. In the evening, we drank wine moderately, watched films and the first episode of the big new Prime release. We spent the first half hour of Wheel of Time laughing at hammy acting but it was suitable viewing after a few glasses.

Keir came on BBC Breakfast to complain the betrayal of the north proved ‘levelling up’ was just words. Re-announcing NPR 60 times, everything was a mess under this government. Holyrood was to crack down on mask-wearing while a plethora of measures continued to be implemented across Europe. Over 65,000 covid cases reported in a day, Germany banned communal working for those without antibodies and Belgians had to work at home 4 days a week. Upper Austria and Salzburg imposed lockdowns, followed Monday by the whole country for 20 days. Vaccinations would be compulsory from February. Chancellor Schallenberg called it ‘very painful’. Doctors welcomed the move. A demo against proposed mandatory vaccines and a ban on New Year fireworks turned into a riot in Rotterdam. Protestors threw rocks and fireworks and set cop cars on fire. Seven were injured including at least 2 shot by police. The Czechia and Slovakia locked down the unvaccinated. National news asked: was the UK on a different track? 1:65 infected, the trend was down on the previous week. Lukashenko admitted troops were helping migrants to the Polish border and refused to stop the flow. He didn’t give a shit! New culture sec Nads Doris said social media was hijacked by left-wing snowflakes.

I’d hoped to be better by the weekend but alas, I not much. After a mediocre night, I failed to lie in Saturday. Really bright again, the first frost of the season amplified brilliant sunlight. I went down for brekkie then returned to bed and worked on the laptop until head fug set in.

Breakfast a palaver Sunday, I got stressed, and a series of niggles led to harsh words and foul moods. When Phil asked if I wanted to go for a walk, I yelled “I’m not well!” and stomped off back to bed. Upset and fed up still being stuck indoors, I wanted to simultaneously cry and scream but forced myself to write. He came to make amends, apologised for rowing and managed to make me laugh. He then stood at the foot of the bed in distracting fashion. I told him to go out. I read the winter issue of Valley Life Magazine, took photos through the window of yellow trees across the valley, wrote a haiga using a photo of a late hawkweedⁱⁱ, and worked on the Christmas card. Bad feelings gradually waned but I was still depressed. Phil went in search of inspiration and came back with bargain mincemeat. The town centre was rammed of course, as I’d guessed from parked cars snaking up the road opposite. Loads of Christmas markets cancelled, I joked: “That’s because they’re all here!” Phil agreed: “It’s already like one out there!”

Boris caught mask-less on trains again, Mick Lynch of RMT said he sent ‘all the wrong signals’. Riots in Brussels, Vienna and across Holland led to injuries, 3 bullet wounds and 51 arrests in Rotterdam. WHO worried about the situation in Europe. Prof Pollard told Marr it was unlikely we’d see the same sharp rise as UK rates had been climbing since summer and boosters would reduce transmission. But as people in poorer countries still weren’t vaccinated, it remained a ‘major global public health problem’. Goblin Saj spouted a load of numbers, including claims protection increased from 50-90% with boosters; the key to us not going the way of Europe. Extended to 40-49 year olds in the coming week, I still didn’t have my invite. Maros Sefcovic said the EU was trying to help curb spiralling infections by encouraging vaccine take-up and thought hesitancy was caused by problems at the start of year, followed by a better picture in summer, leading to a sense of complacency. On Brexit, he felt some progress was made but not on process. While implying urgency, Lord Frosty made no counter-proposals to the ones from the EU in June.

Tesla drivers were locked out of their own cars and as the wheels came off Manchester United, Phil laughed at yet another heavy defeat. A sacked Ole Gunnar Solskjaer gave the ‘we’ve let ourselves down’ speech.

* IRP – Integrated Rail Plan

Reference:

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

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

Part 87 – Stranger Than Fiction

“If somebody is spending a huge amount of time on a second job, then they can’t be maintaining support for their constituents” (Lord Evans)

Masking The Truth

Waking at dawn on a cold, blustery Monday, I fell back to sleep until quite late. The plaster came off my cut thumb in the bath. As soreness prevailed, maybe it wasn’t a good idea cutting a flap of dead skin off. Phil announced there was a letter for me. Fearing the worst, I took my time opening it, but it was good news. “That’s that then,” Phil declared, “at least it was only a few weeks rather than years of investigation.” “Yes but why am I losing weight?” “You’re not eating enough.” “I think I am. I might ring the GP to get other bits checked out.” Assailed by a keen wind taking recycling out, I vowed to stay indoors, texted Walking Friend to arrange lunch midweek, posted blogs and worked on the next episode of the journal until head fug forced a halt. Nodding off with a dry throat that evening, I hoped I wasn’t getting ill and went up early.

Furious MPs held a 3-hour emergency debate on parliamentary standards. Hardly anyone on the tory side of the chamber (incidentally bare-faced), The Bumbler didn’t turn up at all, conveniently having a prior engagement at Hexham General Hospital. He said the train didn’t get back in time. In fact, it pulled into Kings Cross at 5.30 p.m. and the session went on until 7. His approval rating dropped to -16. Belarus sent migrants to the Polish border leading to the declaration of a state of emergency and Brussels claiming Lukashenko, in league with Russia, sought to destabilise the EU in retaliation for sanctions. Flying to the USA allowed, I got a message from booking.com telling me to book a holiday.

Tuesday, I worked on the journal while Phil worked on his new click job. Using headphones, I remarked it was easier to know when he was actually doing a work, rather than looking at crap on his phone but he disliked wearing them. I had to go to the co-op before lunch again. At least it was quiet. When head fug set in late afternoon, I changed activity to iron and stow some summer clothes.

The deadline for care workers to be fully vaccinated looming, Jeremy Vine debated mandatory NHS jabs. A sacked carer in tears said she had no choice. “Yes, you did!” I screamed at the telly and raged at the lack of medical bods to counter her daft claims that the vaccine was untested and ineffective. Later, Goblin Saj announced 2 jabs would be compulsory for frontline NHS staff from 1^st April, unless medically-exempt. Some predicted 123,000 health and care workers could leave rather than be inoculated. Forced to defend Boris visiting the hospital mask-less yesterday, The Goblin insisted his boss followed the rules. But the DOH, as Rabid Raab was reminded on BBC Breakfast, advised all ‘must continue to wear a face covering at all times.’ Recent experience taught me this was the case, even in corridors. TfL reported ¾ of staff had suffered abuse over the issue and blamed Boris for mixed messages. Second jobs becoming a big issue, Devon MP and lawyer Geoffrey Cox allegedly used his Westminster office to earn almost £900,000 representing the Virgin Islands on a corruption case. Annalise Dodds asked for an investigation. It then transpired Cox claimed £22,000 a year to rent a London flat while letting out another one for £10,000. You couldn’t make this stuff up!

Cover Story

After raining all night, Wednesday stayed miserable. About to shake throws out, I heard voices and opened the door to see a man almost on the doorstep while the woman from next-door-but-one stood in the street under an umbrella. Phil later witnessed them doing a photoshoot. “The glamour never stops round here!” Suitably attired, I waited for Walking Friend who was coming straight from having a booster jab. “How was it?” “I don’t know yet.” We walked to the town centre, discussed my travails and went to the Turkish café where she told me her news. Her oldest friend had died suddenly last month. Much more traumatic than my own woes, I felt bad rambling on about them. The only relatives a distant brother-in-law and an elderly aunt, she ended up organising the funeral which took place the previous day. Although a sad occasion, she was pleased to see several old acquaintances and receive donations for cat rescue. On a pleasanter note, we shared stories about our September breaks before doing the rounds of charity shops and gazing at the river. The heron stood alert on the weir and she spotted kingfishers. Of course they’d gone by the time I looked. Feeling out-of-sorts, she was unsure if it was grief, stress or side-effects from the Pfizer. I empathised and walked with her towards the bus stop. Back home, I slumped on the sofa, briefly updated Phil and went for a lie down.

The Welsh government extended mandatory face-coverings to cinemas and theatres. Geoffrey Cox denied breaching parliamentary rules. The Bumbler went to COP26 for publication of the draft ‘cover decision’ to be agreed by the end of the summit. Criticism came from Greenpeace and Christian Aid, for not including dates or obligations, being too soft, too slow, not enough, and containing gaps such as money for poor countries. John Kerry announced a surprise agreement between China and USA, pledging to cut emissions and move to clean energy. While Andy Bowie resigned over sleaze, Boris unedifyingly had to address the row and insist the UK parliament wasn’t corrupt. It didn’t escape notice that last week he flew from Glasgow so he wouldn’t miss dinner with his chums at the Garrick Club, but this week, he took trains so he could skip important commons debates. Again mask-less until he alighted in Scotland where they were obligatory, some said he was sending his own message. Merkel called on Russia to intervene on the Belarussian ‘inhumane’ treatment of migrants, pushing them to the Polish border. Astronauts returning from ISS on Space X wore nappies because the toilet broke.

Feeling slightly ill again Thursday, I took Echinacea and attempted some exercise. After breakfast, Phil commandeered the bathroom while I sorted washing, did chores and made coffee. The market thankfully not busy, I got mussels at the fish van, but no parsley. “That’s’ because of the mussels,” I told him. How can you have mussels without parsley?” “Oh yeah. I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll get more next time.” The sociopath German hippy was chatting to the jolly veg man so I retreated to the square where a busker played guitar, threw a coin in his case and shared a smile. He was actually pretty good, unlike an erstwhile teacher playing trumpet really badly round the corner. Almost as horrific as her crooning, at least she couldn’t sing with the instrument in her gob! I saw an old pub friend’s daughter on the way back. She updated me on her mum, her 2 jobs and not being a manager at Aldi as German Friend told me. Planning to go to Leeds, Phil was still home and criticised my treatment of the mussels. I told him to sod off and faffed trying to keep them in a net bag but as I dunked them in a bowl of oats and water, they weren’t fully covered so I had to snip the bag creating evil micro-plastic – grr! I edited ‘Copperopolis’ and posted the update on Cool Placesⁱ then rang the GP surgery. 11^th in the queue, I waited to get a tele appointment next Tuesday before a lie down. I didn’t fully relax but warmed up somewhat.

Phil returned in time for dinner. Calling into the café after a good day in Leeds, he found 2 more prints sold. They wanted him to leave his pictures up as they were the most popular they’d ever had. “it’s official. You’re the most successful local artist…in that café!” I laughed. “Not a very high bar!”

The Kings Fund warned the NHS was ‘on its knees’ with overstretched and exhausted staff and chronic workforce shortages. German daily cases up 3,500 in a week, the interim government took the same approach as the UK but fearing a hospital emergency, medics wanted lockdown. Chair of the committee on standards in public life, Lord Evans said if an MP spent lots of time on a second job, they couldn’t be supporting their constituents. Rishi Rich insipidly said they ‘must do better’. Red wall tories were livid with the old guard protecting their own. Ben Wally wrote to labour and the SNP about 3 MPs accused of drunkenness on a flight to Gibraltar as part of the Armed Forces Parliamentary Scheme. Nicola Sturgeon called the claims concerning Drew Hendry and David Linden ‘false’. Labour said Charlotte Nichols experienced an ‘episode’. Tories rejected counter-claims their own MPs got drunk that night and said it was ‘quite clearly a desperate attempt to deflect attention.’ A more likely story was that it was the other way round! A record 1,200 migrants crossed the channel in a single day and 3 were lost at sea. 23,000 so far reaching Kent in 2021 was already more than the whole of 2020. Critics still sceptical COP26 would achieve anything, Look North reported ITM Power would be the largest producer of green hydrogen power, creating 300 jobs on the old Sheffield airport site by the end 2022. The ONS reported the economy grew 1.3%.

Still iffy Friday, I pottered before an uneventful trip to the co-op. Cleaning the bathroom later, I heard the landline ring. Phil answered and impatiently brandished the handset while I washed my hands. The hospital consultant told me the test results, which I’d already had, and said there was nothing to worry about which was re-assuring. Telling Phil, he pulled a face in mock-disgust: “That’s enough of that women’s stuff!”

ONS data showed infections fell across the UK to 1:60 people. Highest rates in England among school years 7 to 11, the trend was ‘uncertain’ in 12-24 and 35-49 year olds. WHO reported Europe ‘back at the epicentre of the pandemic’ with deaths up 10% across the continent, mainly driven by outbreaks in Russia and Eastern Europe. Numbers high in Germany, Merkel said people had a duty to get vaccinated and a partial lockdown was imposed in Holland. Boris mixed his metaphors wittering about storm clouds gathering and seeing before what happened when waves started rolling in. At COP26, a re-drafted ‘cover decision’ included more on money for poor countries and a request for all nations to strengthen plans to cut emissions but weakened commitments on fossil fuels. Red Ed warned the 1.5⁰ goal was ‘in mortal peril’. John Kerry thought things were moving in the right direction but not done yet. Alok Sharma admitted disagreements remained and called for a last push to find ‘pragmatic and workable solutions’. Negotiations lasted an extra day. Californian wildfires covered a million acres. Firefighters losing the battle, they saved Gen Sherman.

Inconclusive

Saturday morning was so dazzling I could hardly see. Too much wine the previous night didn’t help. Putting empty bottles out, the woman who lived next door pulled up. She asked if we had a spare USB adaptor for her phone. I dug one out and said she could keep it. We caught the last two hours of sunshine on a gloriously warm day, hurrying through the ridiculously busy town centre and up into woodland. The mellowing canopy visible from our street, it didn’t disappoint close up with fading greens and yellows punctuated by golden oranges.

Stepping aside for a pregnant woman in pagan apparel, accompanied by a man and a woman with a camera, the latter smiled at us: “A lovely day for pictures!” She said in a pronounced Eastern European accent. Was it a belated Samhain photoshoot? The full stream easy to navigate on large stones and wooden bridge, we continued up between fields of large goats and sheep with curly horns. Two Asian teenagers stood near the top gate, doing selfies and giggling. “We’ll never know why that’s so funny!” observed Phil. We climbed slowly to the corner, rested on a bench and proceeded upwards. Capturing valley views, Phil clambered on a wall and cut his hand on barbed wire. I helped him patch the painful gash with tissue and hand gel which stung mightily. I distracted him from the pain by pointing to the ground “mini apples!” “Oak apples.” “Do oaks have apples as well as acorns?” “No, it’s caused by a parasitic wasp.” “How odd. I’m not sure I’ve seen that before.” At the end of the lane, we curved down into the clough, remarking on how different it looked compared to last month. Carefully watching our footing, we got scared at the sight of two fierce-looking mutts but the family held them as we past. We avoided town to reach home where I helped Phil unload so he could treat his injury before collapsing on the couch. Dinner delicious, the fishmonger’s other customers might have been right that the Shetland mussels were the best ever.

Making breakfast Sunday morning, I noted the bread I bought Friday was almost gone. I’d had 3 slices. Phil atoned by baking some. He also fixed the front door lock which wasn’t always catching and the bedroom door which was sticking. After wasting half an hour getting a fly to go out the bedroom window, I spent the rest of the day watching telly films, writing a haigaⁱⁱ and working on the Christmas card in Photoshop. Looking almost finished, Phil thought it was good. “Yes, but why did I start? All that cutting out!” During a crap night, I had to get up several times before sleeping at all, used the meditation soundtrack, dropped in and out of slumber and woke the next day feeling very ropey indeed.

His approval rating now down to -21%, The Bumbler admitted the Paterson affair could have been handled better. Rees-Moggy was found to have borrowed £2.94 m from Saliston Ltd (his own lettings and real estate company). 67% immunised in Austria, the lowest in Europe, the unvaccinated were subject to curfew, leading to protests. Highest case numbers since the start of the pandemic in Holland led to a partial lockdown and demos in Den Hague. Germany watched closely. Tougher EU sanctions on Belarus entailed travel bans and asset freezes for airlines flying migrants to the Polish border. A Syrian man was found dead in woodland near the village of Wolka Terechowska. Trussed-Up Liz urged Putin to intervene and sent British troops to bolster ‘unprecedented military build-up on the border’. While severe pollution in New Delhi forced schools and government buildings to shut, COP26 concluded 24 hours late. Greta tweeted: ‘here’s a brief summary: blah, blah, blah.’

References:

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

ii. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.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 78 – Disturbia

“This was a staggeringly poor show from a Foreign Secretary who is completely out of his depth. Unprepared for hard questions. Unwilling to admit mistakes. Unable to answer basic questions…Nobody could watch todays’ session and conclude we have a government capable of rising to the challenge” (Lisa Nandy)

Piling In

Very tired Monday morning, I exercised my ankle and fetched tea. After breakfast, I posted blogs and noticed a bare bit on the cutlery caddy. Requiring only a dab, I used the loaded brush to paint a tarnished dimmer switch in the living room. Phil selected a few photos for his café exhibition and made lunch. I worked on the journal, got head fug, watched telly films and tried not to feel miserable. What was to do on a cold, bleak bank holiday if walking wasn’t an option and the pubs were full to bursting?

The TUC called for 4 extra bank holidays to reward hard workers and bring the UK in line with other countries. Entrepreneurs weren’t keen. The mayor of Milan said a fire in a cladded tower block resembled the Grenfell incident. Fortunately, there were no causalities. US military flights in their final hours, Chris Donahue was the last to leave Afghanistan before the evacuation ended just before midnight. The Taliban celebrated with mindless gunfire and rifled through a pile of abandoned hardware. The Americans argued the Black Hawks and other useful kit weren’t lethal. The UN security council passed resolutions on ensuring safe passage for Afghans holding the right documents and ensuring the country didn’t become a base for terrorism. China and Russia abstained from voting.

Tuesday, Phil went to Leeds for more prints for his exhibition. I wrote and tackled a pile of niggly chores involving lots of stair-climbing. In the midst of sorting kitchen rubbish, there was a loud knock at the door. Bad-temperedly climbing the steps for the umpteenth time, I answered to the window cleaner, cheery as ever. I made an effort to smile back and expressed concern that I’d been too busy to shut the windows. He assured me it was fine. In the co-op, there were gaps on shelves, but a pile of cream cakes in the reduced section. I waited impatiently as two women fingered everything so I could grab strawberry tarts. Exhausted, I collapsed on the sofa, rested my ankle and went to lie down. It was so noisy outside I only managed 5 minutes with my eyes shut. Annoyed, I cheered up with coffee and cream tart. In the evening, I finished sewing the jeans patch and watched telly. After missing a train, Phil arrived home knackered and didn’t want any dinner. I made him eat it before the tasty treat.

Covid cases were reportedly higher in parts of the UK previously not badly hit such as South West England and Scotland. As many missed second jabs, the NHS prepared to administer boosters to the over 80’s and vulnerable. Prof Paul Hunter said they weren’t needed for everyone and the disease would be consigned to history within 3 years, when ‘epidemic equilibrium’ was reached (a steady number of cases each day). Before the deadline on 4^th September, Geronimo was seized, taken away and put down by DEFRA. The alpaca’s owner complained her pleas for dialogue were ignored due to staff holidays. Taliban leaders reiterated a pledge of amnesty, piled into Kabul airport and promised to re-open it soon. Zabiullah Mujahid said their tech team would check for repairs and elicit help from Qatar or Turkey if required. Foot soldiers draped coffins in US, British and French flags.

Dodgy Intel

September started grey but became brighter. It took a shockingly long time to be ready to face Wednesday. I hoovered the living room, worked on the journal and arranged lunch with Walking Friend the next day. Turning to life admin, I again failed to log onto the BG website and checked holiday cottage details. Unable to see answers to my queries in FAQs, and getting an auto-response to my e-mail (promising to reply within 28 days), I rang. Expecting a long wait, the call was picked up straight away; by the sales team. On redirecting me to customer care, the call dropped. I re-dialled and eventually spoke to a woman who provided contact details for the cottage owner and rang him for me. I booked train tickets. Arriving by post Thursday, I was glad I didn’t pay an extra £6 for guaranteed next-day delivery! Phil installed his art in the café after business hours and returned in time for dinner of roast veg pasta, making use of the mini courgettes we picked Saturday.

Weekly covid deaths of 571 were 4 times higher than the same week in 2020 when some restrictions were in place, but levelling off. Excess deaths from all causes were more than normal for the 7^th successive week. Pub chain Wetherspoons’ beer shortage was due to HGV and staffing issues and industrial action according to Tim Brexit Martin. Of course, it wouldn’t be Brexit! Amazon announced new jobs at their London and Manchester offices and tech hubs in Cambridge and Edinburgh. Victoria would stay in lockdown until 70% of the population were vaccinated and a curfew was imposed in New Orleans to stop post-storm looting. The Taliban paraded in victory atop American hardware. Meetings with the former PM and other leaders were a courtesy, not moves towards power-sharing. ‘Senior leader’ Mohamed Abbas said Afghan women could continue working but not in top jobs after telling negotiators they could for the past 2 years, and insisted people possessing the right documents could still leave. But as the banks were shut, they were stuck in Afghanistan with no cash. Sir Simon Gass went to Doha to negotiate safe passage.

MPs on the foreign affairs committee asked a grey-haired Rabid Raab what date he actually went on his hols. He refused to answer 11 times. Meanwhile, the MOD had cancelled all leave and his own staff warned of a quick Taliban advance. He maintained there was no warning and blamed dodgy military intel. Uncle Joe similarly said he trusted the 300,00 strong (sic) Afghan army to hold firm. Nandy spluttered it ‘defied belief’ that Raab turned up “completely unprepared without a shred of humility.” After the grilling, Raab was off to the region but didn’t say where for security reasons. Plans to get people at risk out via third countries included Pakistan, which already had 3 million Afghan refugees. Ben Wally called it ‘Dunkirk by WhatsApp’. Thicky Atkins responsible for the resettlement of 10,000 refugees currently in quarantine hotels, promised them all permanent residence. So far, only a third of councils offered to help, even though £5 million was up for grabs. Newsnight referenced a leaked document backing claims that the fall of Kabul took the government by surprise but suggested a lack of preparation.

Disturbed by loud work on the canal early Thursday, I awoke narky and distracted and didn’t notice Phil’s floral banana creation on the cereal. I apologised profusely. I embarked on a series of small tasks until Walking Friend arrived. She had a painful bruised rib from a recent fall. In contrast to my non-medical approach to injury, she turned to serious analgesics. We viewed Phil’s café expo. “I prefer his other stuff,” she said, which made Phil laugh when I told him later.

At the tearooms, we ordered different versions of brekkie and caught up on news. She was also going on a jolly soon – with her walking companion to his sister’s home in the historic and delightfully-named Blewbury. Noting my hair looked shiny, I said several people had complemented my hair and youthful appearance recently but was sceptical I could pass for 50. It must be the Q10. We split up briefly for errands. I bumped into Councillor Friend and congratulated her son on walking to Westminster to hand in the climate petition, told her about Phil’s exhibition and that I’d named her as a contact for the research project. Concerned I’d left Walking Friend in the lurch, I rushed back to the square where she was occupied talking to someone else. We perused charity shops to find a £1 skirt, a cute art deco milk jug and DVDs. My ankle aching by then, I rested on various structures while she nipped in a couple more places. A couple following phone directions asked: “Are you local?” “Well, I live here.” “No then.” “Over 20 years; not sure that qualifies me.” They laughed and asked where the ‘rock shop’ was. I directed them the quickest way for ‘crystals and whatnot’. My friend joined me on the bridge to marvel at huge mushrooms on the riverbank. As we sat on a nearby bench, the sun suddenly became fierce. She groaned and I asked if it was the heat but her painkillers were wearing off. It was time to go home.

The famous local female plumber appeared on local news again that evening, along with fellow tradeswoman Cathy Cockin (yes, really!) to encourage others to enter the trades. Pain in my foot extended to my Achilles tendon. I performed a few stretches, applied balm and loosely bandaged it with a homemade scarf I rarely used as a face-mask. Initially successful, the discomfort returned and I struggled to sleep, then I was disturbed twice by a car alarm. I grumpily went to the bathroom to be blinded by flashing lights on a neighbour’s car through the landing window. The meditation soundtrack helped me settle until I was again woken early by work on the canal.

In a desperate attempt to attract more tourists, travel rules for Portugal relaxed so unvaccinated people with a negative test didn’t need to quarantine. Meanwhile, Australia banned their own citizens from travelling for at least another 3 months. Still no decision on other oldies or 12-15 year olds, JCVI announced boosters for a ½ million of the clinically vulnerable. A Kings College study found 2 jabs halved the risk of long covid. The Oxford Vaccine team led by Sarah Gilbert were awarded ‘hero of the year’ by GQ magazine. The Salesman promised to ‘move heaven and earth’ rather than shut schools if infection rates rose in the new term. After Rabid Raab’s appearance at the foreign affairs committee, an interview with Ben Wally was published wherein he said military intel wasn’t wrong but limited and he’d warned ‘the game was up’ back in July when Herat fell. Raab spoke from Qatar to insist they’d agreed up until now. Labour criticised them fighting over their jobs while abandoned Afghans fought for their lives. Raab went onto say they had to engage with the Taliban to get people out but not recognise them as a legitimate government. He wanted the international community to exert a ‘moderating influence’. What was he on? On a luxury holiday with girlfriend Gina Colander, The Cock announced he was running the London Marathon, attracting much abuse on his JustGiving page. Storm Ida hit New York.

Roused by the noise disturbance, I felt exhausted Friday morning. To make up for the faux pas yesterday, I praised Phil’s breakfast apple art profusely, then joked maybe I should have said ‘I preferred your earlier stuff.’ It required a big effort to get on with chores and errands. The co-op was busy but well-stocked and Phil caught me up at the till to help pack and carry. After lunch, I ironed a pile of clothes before lying down. Going to get coffee, I realised I’d left my specs upstairs, went back up, then realised I’d forgotten milk and went back to the kitchen. Legs aching, I slumped on the couch and replied to a message from The Researcher, saying I’d try to write a contribution for her blog next month and confirming it was okay to contact Councillor Friend.

ONS stats showed high covid rates across the UK, highest in Northern Ireland at 1:65 ( but down from 1:40) The most ever in Scotland at 1:75 2 weeks after schools went back, experts predicted it ‘highly likely’ England would follow suit by the end of September. JCVI extended the offer of vaccines to 200,000 12-15 year olds with underlying conditions. Anti-vaxxers gave out leaflets about vaccinating children and tried to gain entry to MHRA in Cabot Square before getting the tube to protest in central London where four cops were injured. Job vacancies at a new high, care homes were badly hit. Covid, Brexit, immigration and tax rules were blamed. £1,000 ‘golden handshakes’ from Amazon were criticised for tempting bin men away from essential services.

Stuck in a Loop

Saturday also grey and cool, I stayed in and posted ‘Puns in the Sun’ on Cool Placesⁱ. Phil braved the shop, disposed of recycling and pressed me on birthday ideas. I’d looked on regional websites but awful to navigate, got stuck in a loop. Finally finding a list of heritage events, I discovered they lied saying they started 8^th September; there was nowt on until the weekend. I abandoned the search and we came up with a couple of alternative options, depending on weather.

Sunday morning, I was disturbed by a domestic in the flats below. Still tired, I gave up trying to sleep at 9. The laptop inoperable, I had to crash it – Stupid Microsoft! I left it to enjoy the warm sun. Realising my ankle hadn’t hurt for two days, I bravely agreed to tackle The Buttress. At the top, we picked a few blackberries and crossed for another climb up winding stone steps, having to move twice from the same spot as a man then a woman descended. He could have said they were a couple! Side-stepping two more walking groups, I remarked it was like Piccadilly Circus. We continued into the next village, blackberrying en route, admired valley views from the playing fields and proceeded to the churchyard to check out the ruin and famous graves, rather mystified by the offerings of coins, precious stones and trinkets. Resting on a bench beneath a shady yew tree, I elevated my tired ankle on the arm. We went home via woodland, stopping for more blackberrying and fungi-spotting. Never previously spotting fly agaric in these parts, the iconic toadstools prompted a haigaⁱⁱ. Feeling tired, hungry and short-tempered on reaching the front door, Phil continued to the shop while I fetched and carried stuff up and down stairs. He got back just as I’d brought the coffee tray up. “Typical!” I remarked. “Yep. I do it on purpose.” “I knew it!” “Actually, I couldn’t rush because of backache.” “That’s all the bending over picking berries. I couldn’t rush because I’m knackered and my ankle’s throbbing.” He made up by helping with dinner which included foraged berry crumble. Unable to settle that night, I looked out the window to find the sky oddly bright with white clouds but no stars. The meditation soundtrack helped quieten my mind and eventually I got some broken sleep.

Gen sir Nick Carter appeared on The Marr in a normal army shirt. Shown an earlier clip of him saying the government had a good grip on Afghanistan, he ducked arguments that he should have seen the Taliban takeover coming and wittered about factions. Nads Zahawi blathered about the rise in National Insurance to pay for social care. A backlash to the proposal involved MPs on all sides and ex-chancellor Spreadsheet Phil who said young workers would end up paying for oldies. Three kids were taken to hospital in Bradford after eating sweets from stony worm packs. Phil discovered you could buy the American packs, fill them with anything and sell them in shops. What a loopy idea!

References:

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

ii. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.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 72 – Get A Grip

“Ministers mix messages, change approach and water down proposals when the public and businesses need clarity and certainty” (Justin Madders)

#Freedumbday

The heatwave continued. Determined not to be rushed Monday morning, I took my time even as Phil took the breakfast tray away but with washing and rubbish to take down, wished he hadn’t disappeared. Internet issues persisted the whole week and beyond. I managed to post blogs working round the signal drops. Phil checked all our telecoms equipment before ringing Talk-Talk again. On repeating they’d monitor it, I exclaimed: “They said that on Saturday. They’ll say anything to not fix it!” “Yep. That’s what they do.” Taking recycling out, elderly Neighbour came up to chat. Finding it hard to follow her stream of consciousness, I nodded politely. In the co-op later, the aisles were now both salad-free and markings-free. Face-coverings optional, I wore one.

Unlike some on ‘Freedom Day’ or #Freedumbday. Clubbers queued from midnight. Heaven looked like hell on a video posted by party-loving journo Benjamin Button. Alarm bells sounding, The Bumbler warned proof of 2 jabs may be required for entry to crowded indoor spaces from September. Scotland cautiously moved to Level 0. Social distancing was reduced to 1 metre but nightclubs wouldn’t open, bars had to shut at midnight, only 15 people could mix outdoors, masks stayed mandatory and the order to work from home continued. JCVI said there’d be no mass vaccination of kids as the benefits didn’t outweigh the risks of myocarditis. Pfizer would be offered to immunocompromised 12-15 year olds (or those living with vulnerable people) ‘as soon as possible’.

A long-overdue Ocado order impossible on the crap internet, we searched town Tuesday afternoon for salad items. The convenience store surprisingly had some, but no cucumber. Would we ever see it again? As a queue outside the sweet shop died down, I hovered until deeming it safe to buy pop. We refreshed on a shady riverside bench. Ducks sheltering from the boiling sun resembled rocks until they scarpered from the heron. On the way home, we waved to The Biker outside the corner pub and noted BT engineers fiddling with telegraph wires on the street below, hoping they were fixing the internet. “How come nobody else ever reports problems?“ I asked Phil. “God knows. I went door-knocking once and no one knew what I was on about. One neighbour even asked was it the same as the telly?!” Unfortunately the problem persisted so whatever they did hadn’t done the trick. I’d forgotten to get exterior primer from the hardware store but Phil said melamine primer I found in the cupboard would work. The ancient stuff dried almost on contact with the repaired planter. Grubby and sweaty, we freshened up with bedtime baths but they didn’t help with sleep in the sweltering heat.

Cases rising nationally 40% week-on-week, the average in Yorkshire was 60%. Daily cases reached 46,558 and deaths 96. A million school pupils were absent in the last week, the highest since March. ALW’s Cinderella show was cancelled when a staff member got covid and the rest had to self-isolate. Inevitable whingeing ensued, even though it negated his arguments. I’d shut up if I was him. Business minister Paul Scuzz-ball said it was up to individuals and employers whether to isolate if pinged. Downing Street scrambled out a message it was ‘crucial’ to do so. Shadow health minister Justin Madders accused the government of making it up as they went along, saying we were in the realms of ‘dangerous farce’. Some exemptions granted for ‘essential workers’, criteria were unclear.

Laura K, interviewed The Scumbag who declared his mission to bring down the government and claimed he stopped Boris going to see the queen in case he killed her. Unbelievably, he admitted he wasn’t sure if Brexit was a good idea! 400 yesterday brought the total of migrants crossing the Channel since January to 8,000, almost as many as the whole of 2020.

Hours after Nasty Patel bribed Paris to increase patrols, Mini Macron no doubt had a good laugh as a French navy gunboat forced a dinghy into UK waters. She told the home affairs committee the agreement wasn’t meaningless and border policy failure wasn’t responsible for letting in the Delta variant.

Newsnight mentioned a suggested extra 1% on National Insurance to fund social care. Ministers maintained it was unpopular but many people thought it sensible. Maybe Boris and Rishi believed it would go against them in the next election or was it yet another example of pandering to backbenchers? Jeff Bezos outdid Branston in the billionaire space race. New Shepard rocket went up 66 miles. Unimpressed with him thanking Amazon staff and customers who got him to the edge of space, critics screamed ‘pay your bloody taxes!’

Fail, And Fail Again

On a humid Wednesday, we took another rail trip – to Brighouse. Market day created lunchtime bustle. Phil got fish and chips from Blakely’s while I found seats on attractive new decking overlooking the Calder & Hebble Navigation. Facing towards sun so he’d spot me, I planned to move round when a pair of elderly women plonked themselves behind us; their coughing and their dog’s begging slightly spoiling the treat. We shifted to a further bench under cover of trees to gaze on water and pick herbs from incredible edible boxes. Further exploration of the shopping area revealed old buildings, squares and mainly independent shops selling everything you could need. We chatted to a lovely old man about architecture, craftsmanship and people not appreciating what was on their doorstep before buying elusive items including hammarite paint, cucumber and pasties for an easy tea. We walked to the beautiful canal basin, drank pop and strolled round. Industrial-looking craft from two years ago were replaced by trip barges, cabin cruisers, twee houseboats and what appeared to be a submarine conversion. After-school teenagers congregated at the dangerous confluence of the canal and river. Almost crawling back up to the station, it was 20 minutes ‘til the next train. We retreated to the shade of the old co-op building where Phil espied an engraving of a skep above the door, recalling pictures from the Pioneer’s Museum. Back home, I took food to the kitchen. Phil searched his bag and cried: “where are the pies?” “Don’t panic! I’ve got the pies, you’ve got the paint.” (For a fuller description, see Cool Places 2ⁱ)

As I collapsed on the sofa, Phil plugged the router straight into the socket without the extension. The internet signal seemed to improve, then failed again. He picked up the phone to Talk-Talk, but feeling hot and bothered, realised he’d lose his grip so left it until morning. We managed to watch Netflix by pausing when the red light came on the router (approximately every 20 minutes) and re-starting.

The retail and haulier sectors again warned the pingdemic meant empty shelves. British Meat Processors Association CE Nick Allen said food supply chains were ‘starting to fail’ and criticised minister’s ‘confusing messages’. At PMQs, Keir mocked the latest government slogan ‘Keep Life Moving’ and suggested it be replaced with ‘Get A Grip’. He went onto accuse a virtual Boris of superspreading confusion on the rules then immediately isolated himself after his sprog tested positive for coronavirus, although he’d tested negative. The NHS pay review body recommended a 3% rise. Minister Helen Waffle failing to tell the commons, the government later said they’d pay it to most staff. As the EU refused to renegotiate the Northern Ireland protocol, Lord Frost complained ‘we can’t go like this’. So what now, you idiot? Liverpool lost its UNESCO World Heritage Status. City councillors were surprised but no-one else was. We thought Brighouse had a better claim. Severe floods in China left 25 dead including 12 trapped in tube trains.

After another uncomfortable and fractious night, I felt wobbly and unable to focus my eyes Thursday morning. I forced myself to perform a few stretches which must have got some endorphins going because my mood improved. I took my time over the morning cuppa, even as Phil made to take the tray away, and asked for help with the washing. I went to the market, finding fish and a few veg but no toiletries again. German Friend dawdled up the steps ahead of me on the way back. As I caught up, I joked “is it hot enough for you?” We strolled to her front door where I gave her tips on fixing her bench. Phil had been on the phone to Talk-Talk. After a rant, they promised to send engineers the next day – pointless but maybe they’d establish the issue wasn’t in the house. Later, I saw discussion on a local Facebook group confirming the intermittent service affected the whole town. I proclaimed Talk-Talk lying bastards’ Phil’s anger resurfaced. “I thought it would reassure you that you weren’t going mad.” “Can I have that in writing?” “Yes, I’ll make you a certificate!” But I agreed it was frustrating that people posted on comment pages rather than reporting the problem. During a spell outside, Phil continued with his tiny work while I applied waterproof paint to the planters. Having located a website on exciting days out on the Calder & Hebble navigation, I asked him where next? Just then, the hippy who lived on a barge emerged from next door. I told him of our excursion to Brighouse on which he shared interesting snippets, and picked his brains on other waterway locations worth visiting. Early evening, rain started to fall. Initially light, it soon turned into a deluge. BBC 4 showed decent films so we didn’t have to endure interrupted streaming for our evening’s viewing. Eyes shutting while reading, I dropped off quickly only to wake in the early hours.

Reports that 9 out of 10 people had coronavirus antibodies but weren’t all immune, did not compute. 618,903 pinged by TIT in the previous week, 1.77m self-isolated. Jeremy C**t again called for government to bring forward rule changes or they’d lose “social consent for this very, very important weapon against the virus.” The BMA maintained that more pings indicated very high infection rates and deleting the app was like disabling the fire alarm. Ravi Gupta of Nervtag said the ‘mixed bag of measures’ created ‘confusion and havoc’ by making individuals isolate when large crowds attended sporting events. Kwasi Kwarteng promised a longer list of exempt sectors soon and urged firms to stick to the rules but food distribution company Bidfood told staff to take tests and carry on working while Iceland advised customers not to panic over food shortages (it should be ministers panicking). Tobias Ellwood wanted Cobra to enlist the army.

The Boardman report on Greensill, said Lex enjoyed an ‘extraordinarily privileged’ relationship with Camoron who could have been clearer but didn’t break current lobbying rules so ‘his actions were not unlawful’. Angela Rayner called it a classic whitewash. Dawn Butler had to leave the commons for naming Boris a liar – apparently not allowed even when blatantly true. Australia and NZ withdrew from the rugby world cup due to safety concerns. A day before the official start of Shonkyo 2020, the opening ceremony director was sacked. Kentaro Kobayashi made jokes about the holocaust when he was a comic. This followed creative chief Horishi Sasaki resigning in March after apologising for calling large lady Naomi Watanabe ‘Olympig’ and a composer quitting earlier in the week when it emerged he’d bullied schoolkids.

Yes, We Have No Tomatoes!

Friday morning, an exhausted Phil fell briefly back to sleep after brekkie. I drafted blog entries for Cool Places 2 but posting was impossible. ‘Bright Sparks’ engineers rang Phil saying they were on the way. Two men arrived in separate vans, blocking the road. Phil explained the problem didn’t affect just us. I chimed in with gen from social media, noted one of them wore a mask over his mouth but not his nose, and left them to it for the weekend shop. Still very little veg, signs on shelves promised supply issues would be resolved shortly. At the kiosk, I repeated what I wanted 3 times to a new staff member and she still got it wrong! On returning, the engineers departed. They’d replaced the router and all the wiring, thus eliminating any possibility of problems in the house. The internet worked for an hour before bombing. Barely keeping a grip, Phil again rang Talk-Talk who eventually said a BT van would come next Tuesday. “Not good enough!” I railed. I later noticed the red light didn’t come on the new router when the signal dropped. “They’ve fixed if then, ha, ha!” Phil went to the other shop and I asked him to look for salad stuff. He returned singing: “Yes, we have no tomatoes!” Watching old films on DVD, we managed not to drink too much wine and had quite an early night for a Friday.

Train services and petrol stations joined the list of services hit by the pingdemic. Useless George said exemptions for critical workers meant 10,000 could carry on working in food and other key industries. Dr. Chaand Nagpaul of BMA called it a “desperate and potentially unsafe policy that does not address the root problem…(exceptions) should only happen in the absolute rarest of cases and with rigorous infection control measures and assurances of safety.” 30 drownings in British waterways over the week included a mother and son in Loch Lomond, a 16 year old boxer in the River Dee at Chester, a young footballer in Salford Quays, and 6 men and boys in Yorkshire.

Suspecting the jolly veg man had cheated me, I weighed the mushrooms before cooking Saturday breakfast. The alleged half-pound came to 5.7 oz. Phil suggested they’d shrunk but if not, he should be put in the stocks for deceiving customers. Phil managed to do some uploading but I avoided the internet completely, writing and photo-editing. Brighouse shots lent themselves to monochrome and inspired the weekly haigaⁱⁱ. I also took a pile of recycling out, having to sort neighbours’ detritus. Phil popped to the co-op to find no beer as mask-less 30 somethings wandered the aisles.

A mere 20^oC on Sunday, I braved the market for knobbly veg and got quite a selection, including the last 4 tomatoes. Town packed, visitors cluttered the streets, queues snaked from charity shops, and kids and dogs paddled under the old bridge where a low dam had been constructed. Phil considering joining me, I rang to say don’t bother. On the way home, I saw The Poet and suggested he avoid the centre as it was full of bloody tourists. “Don’t worry, I’m going straight to the bus stop.” Noting the leafy stalks sticking out of my bag, he commented, “I can’t remember the last time I ate celery.”

Wanting to finish painting the planters, I noticed gaps in the bottom allowing soil to escape. I sawed a small piece of wood to size and hammered it on. Phil looked impressed as he watched. “I can do things, you know!” Decorating Neighbour came to see what the noise was and shared notes on the trials of painting, overhanging bushes messing his car up, and parking disputes. Phil found another small bit of wood to finish the bodge. I applied primer to the additions and paint to a plastic planter that now housed a rose.

Look North featured a local family we knew. The now very tall 11 year old son started walking to Westminster for the Zero Carbon petition, accompanied by parents in a campervan. At 10 miles per day it would take him 3 weeks.

No data on deaths released for a second day running due to tech issues, Goblin Saj tweeted ‘don’t cower from the virus’. Covid Bereaved Families for Justice incensed at the insensitivity, The Goblin deleted the tweet and apologised for a ‘poor choice of words’. What a cock! PAC reported dealing with the pandemic cost £370bn so far. £10bn wasted on PPE ‘not fit for purpose’, £6.7m per week was still being spent on storage. Phil came up with a solution: “Burn it!” At a rally in Trafalgar Square Saturday, covid-denier Kate Shemerani likened NHS staff to Nazis. The ex-nurse had been struck off for dangerous views on vaccines, social distancing and PPE. PHE said vaccines prevented at least 52.600 deaths (later revised to 60,000).

Mr. Ben claimed the Latitude festival was the safest place on the planet. Revellers required to show proof of 2 jabs or a negative test result, we wondered why on earth that couldn’t be the case all round. Public opinion increasingly in favour of Covid Passes, The Bumbler shied away from them and instead urged common sense. How was it ‘common sense’ to allow hundreds of people to cram into discos, possibly infecting each other, rather than proving they didn’t have the disease? Answer: Boris didn’t want to upset so-called libertarian backbenchers and in doing so, mis-read the public mood.

Unable to settle, the meditation soundtrack enabled a few hours’ sleep. Musings of a possible birthday trip in September led to dreaming of a train journey to the seaside. I stared out the window at a dark and rainy scene while Phil concentrated on his phone. Elder Sis and Youngest Brother materialised. He pressed a guide book on me as we alighted intoning: “You’ll need this.” Out on the road, other people surrounded us. Striving to outpace them, I lost sight of Phil. I awoke wondering if it was a message. Dropping off again, I had a follow-up dream; too indistinct to get a grip on details.

References:

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

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

Part 71 – Ping Pong

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

The ‘P’ of the Ping

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lost and Found

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pingdemic

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Corvus Diaries

A Journal of the Coronavirus

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