Choppy Waters
Even tempers and co-operation persisted into the last days of September. As usual, blog posting and chores took most of Monday morning. In the afternoon, Phil composed restful tunes on his ipad. They made me sleepy but this didn’t mean the siesta was any better, thanks to untuneful noisy workmen outside.
Reports of weekend mayhem caused by the 10.00 p.m. pub curfew were greatly exaggerated as young people milled about in the street. What did they expect? Calls for the policy to be abandoned fell on deaf ears. New restrictions made it illegal to meet indoors from Wednesday in the North East, punishable with fines. Scottish students were now allowed to go home as long as they stayed there.
Tuesday morning fog lingered in the valley bottom. Clouds visibly floated off above the hills, to reveal the sun. BBC Breakfast weather featured a posh stately home, where flowers from the estate were donated to a food bank. We couldn’t see the residents of the council estate down the road jumping for joy. To paraphrase Marie Antionette: “let them eat flowers! In the kitchen, I was overwhelmed by grease and left the cleaning half done to work on the journal and ring the printers, ensuring it was okay to collect the calendars. My phone mysteriously had no signal requiring use of the land-line. Phil later used his ‘phone whispering’ skills to get it working again but said “It’s gone a bit flaky hasn’t it?” Guiltily hiding my face in my hands, I agreed. “I might have to ask Father Christmas for a new one.” (i.e., Phil).
I took the shopping trolley to town, faffed with hand-gel and face-mask outside the printers saw a TIT QR poster for the first time and decided it didn’t apply to me. Calendars weighing heavy in the trolley, I wheeled round to Boots. As I waited to enter behind a woman, a pair of schoolgirls brazenly barged past us both. When they came out, I said: “next time you go in a shop, check there isn’t a queue, will you?” I tipped the contents of two needless delivery boxes into the trolley. Now too heavy to lift up steps, I took the long route home, greeting an old friend on the way. Exhausted, I collapsed on the sofa listening to another of Phil’s plinky ipad tunes. Again, it made my eyes close but when I went up for a lie down, I failed to relax.
Boris claimed he ‘misspoke’ concerning the regional measures in the North East, causing confusion over beer gardens and the ‘Rule of Six’. Angela Rayner called him ‘incompetent’ as he didn’t even understand his own rules! Amidst chaos on campus, Gavin Salesman finally spoke to say English students could go home for Christmas but might have to self-isolate for a fortnight. A rave at Coventry University was condemned but I couldn’t help sympathising – what an awful time to be a teenager!
It was an eventful Wednesday in Westminster. The Speaker of the House stated the PM had contempt for the commons in passing Coronavirus Laws without consultation, let alone votes. But he stopped short of allowing the Tory backbenchers’ amendment to be debated due to a lack of time, danger of more confusion and ‘undermining the rule of law’. The Cock conceded to allow MPs a vote before further changes were introduced ‘where possible’. At PMQ’s Keir criticised Rishi for calling jobs affected by the pandemic ‘unviable’. In the 100th plague briefing, Boris was flanked by his pet scientists who spoke of an ‘uptick’ in new cases among young and older people, including hospitalisation and intensive care. Rises of 15% in the North East and North West, were the biggest. Why was the former undergoing stricter curbs on freedom than the latter? And of course, no added restrictions at all in the South, below what Phil called ‘The Waitrose Line’. The Bumbler bragged about numbers of tests, Nightingale bed capacity, ventilators and PPE (the majority now sourced within the UK which was something). He said ‘more costly’ restrictions would come if the escalation continued, but insisted a second national lockdown wasn’t planned. TSB planned the loss of 900 staff and 164 branches due to ‘remodelling’
The most exciting event of my day was inventing a new dinner. After the stupid amount of shopping last week, I was determined to make do with what was in cupboards. The improvised lentil and bulgur wheat gratin, inspired by Ye Olde Bean Book, was very tasty if I say so myself.
On Thursday, we stocked up on the groceries. Thanks to the re-vamped co-op app, I got a free bar of yummy chocolate! Back home, we sorted the purchases, Phil declared: “job done, with blistering efficiency!” and went to sit down, only for me to discover several items left in rucksacks. Efficient my arse! At least he was still being helpful.
As I rested in the afternoon, it was quiet outside for once but attempts to relax were stymied by my mind churning with random crap, including scenes from the book I was reading. Set in Germany after the war, flashbacks to horrors of Nazism were deeply affecting. Not the positive forward-looking story I’d expected, but still good.ii
In the evening, Phil randomly presented me with a large smelly candle acquired during his recent visit to Leeds. A gift from a woman who lived in a tent, it sparked discussion on a possible project for him to document the city’s homeless during the plague. I thought it might be of interest to local libraries, museums or possibly The Big Issue.
Making Waves
As the government refused demands to withdraw provisions that undermined key elements of the Brexit Withdrawal Agreement from the Internal Markets Bill, the EU started legal proceedings. Nasty Patel apparently instructed civil servants to research madcap schemes for deterring migrants travelling from Europe. Preposterous ideas included a wave machine to propel dinghies from UK shores (not new) and a floating wall (similar schemes in Greece were lambasted by Amnesty International for risking lives). Migrant centres were considered on disused ferries, oil rigs, the Isle of Man, Isle of Wight, ‘small Scottish islands’ and Ascension Island 4,00 miles away. Why not Kent? Then it really would be Children of Men!
Our elected representatives were caught flouting the rules again. The bumbler’s dad escaped sanctions for shopping without a mask, but Jeremy Corbyn was fined for going to a dinner party with more than 6 guests. MP Margaret Farrier took the biscuit. She felt ill on Saturday, had a Covid test, felt better, took the train to Westminster Monday to talk about Covid, got a positive test result, and went back to Scotland by train! Amid calls for her to stand down, The Speaker was ‘very angry’ and the SNP withdrew the whip.
The North West underwent the same additional measures as the North East where Hartlepool and Middlesbrough were added. In the face of lack of consultation with local authorities (counter to Matt Cock’s claims), the mayor said they’d gone too far: “we defy the government.” This sounded like he wouldn’t enforce the local lockdown but when interviewed on Newscast he said he would follow the law. As areas of North Wales were added to the growing list, up to a third of the UK population were now under tighter restrictions. Another raft of tiers was muted, with a formal announcement due in a week or so. ‘Just shut the pubs, dammit!’ I screamed at the telly. It was as if they’d do anything apart from the obvious!
A cold, windy Friday with some rain, suggested Storm Alex arrived early. Glad the shopping was done, I spent the morning writing up walks for my Cool Places blog iii. In the afternoon, we braved the storm to visit the Open Studios preview in the Town Hall (postponed from July, it would be on-line next weekend). A couple of good works amongst the sample pieces, there were also some horrors. As we knew quite a few of the artists, it prompted a discussion about peer group validation. For example, a good photographer switching to painting (mediocre at best) being told the art was great. Walking through the square, the weekly flea market (which I usually forgot about) was packing up. I scooted round and haggled to knock down the price of a pot (a potential gift). Meanwhile, Phil spent ages at a camera stall and bought a Nikon lens – apparently all interchangeable since 1959; gotta love the Japanese long-term thinking! The friendly and knowledgeable stallholder told us his dad had a shop in Nelson until he retired early this year, hence the great selection of models. As Phil spotted a possible Christmas present, I said I’d be back.
A Lull in the Storm
Saturday, the weather was even more horrid with persistent rain. We stayed in all day, and I continued writing for Cool Places. In a rare appearance on Andrew Marr Sunday morning, The Bumbler mainly spluttered the usual waffle. He admitted the August meal deal was partly responsible for a surge in cases and said the curfew made no sense if people were then ‘hobnobbing’ in the street at pub chuck out time. You said it, you idiot!
While Storm Alex caused flooding in South East England, Italy and France, the rain stopped in the valley, giving way to sunny spells. slightly annoyed at lack of help with weekend cooking, I silently fumed over brekkie and took my coffee to drink in front of the telly. I then heard Phil wash up and take a pile of recycling out – the silent treatment seemed effective! In the afternoon, we had a short walk to the nearest clough. A small bulldog looked at us expectantly. The owner said he’d spotted the camera. Laughing, I called it “Insta -dog!” We indulged the attention-seeking animal with portrait shots and asked the owner: “does he have a Facebook page?” “No, but he should!” In the clough, the brook had widened, flooding the islands. Better there than town, I thought. We took the top path to a stone bridge, arresting in early autumn colours.
Resting briefly on a memorial bench, we discussed replacing those lower down, often deluged. “I’m sure they’d welcome a donation.” I suggested, to which Phil replied: “I’m not dead yet.” (For more details see Cool Placesiii)
Although a short spell outdoors, it made us really tired. I went to bed early that night but needed the meditation tape to drop off.
5 welders went to work on the Isle of Man, stopped at Tesco for a spot of lunch and got imprisoned for breaching quarantine. When released, they would be sent straight back to England and banned from the isle for life. Harsh! As the latest James Bond movie was postponed again, Cineworld announced ‘temporary’ closures, without informing staff.
It had emerged on Friday that Trump had Covid, later being pumped with Remdesivir in hospital. Over the weekend, it was revealed he’d also received ventilation and dexamethasone, normally used on patients who’d been ill at least a week, with low oxygen levels. Amidst speculation the severity of his illness was downplayed, he rose from his hospital bed for a drive-by past adoring fans, thus putting countless more people at risk! (It later transpired he’d been given the experimental drug Regeneron).
Over here, it turned out that Covid-19 cases were under-reported from 25th September to 2nd October. 15,841 test results hadn’t been input on an Excel spreadsheet. Thus TIT didn’t happen. The ‘technical glitch’ was in fact caused by PHE using the file extension .xls. Dating from 1987 and superseded by .xlsx in 2007, it had a limit of 64,000 lines of data, as any techy worth their salt would know. Phil pointed out it was “so old, Bill Gates wrote the code!”
References:
i. My haigas: https://wordpress.com/posts/mondaymorninghaiga.wordpress.com
ii. The Women in the Castle, by Jessica Shattuck
iii. My Cool Places blog: https://hepdenerose.wordpress.com/
The Corvus Diaries 