Last Report of 2020 - unedited, I just don't have the energy for it!

Yes, still in the grip of the pandemic and it doesn't appear things are getting better despite the Pfizer vaccine beginning to be administered and another vax in the pipeline for being available in the first days of 2021 should we live long enough to see the New Year in. 

 

It is not a little alarming to watch the case numbers-hospital admissions-deaths on a shockingly high uptick. This uptick was anticipated back at the beginning of December although we all hoped the dire predictions were wrong. The bitter little dwarf thinking herself leader of an independent Scotland (really, Sturgeon and the SNP have to be the champion free-lunch screwer-uppers of all time) announced before Christmas we could have one day mixing with one other household inside - with all the windows and doors open 'to blow the virus out' - but at midnight we'd all become pumpkins and the entirety of Scotland would go into a three week 'Level4' set of restrictions. All non-essentials shopping forbidden, no travel between Scotland and the rest of the UK (especially between Scotland and England and didn't that little witch's eyes gleam at the chance to spew yet more anti-English hate), and no indoor anything with anyone outside the household unless providing assistance to a vulnerable person. The list of rules we must follow until at least 16 January 2020 is long, convoluted, and nearly impossible not to violate. 

After being under the dictatorship, the fascist totalitarian SNP dictatorship, these past ten plus years, most of us suspect that foul lot will extend the restrictions beyond 16th January 2021 owing to the sharp uptick in the virus toll. Paul and I took the decision to do a Big-Big Shop the second week of December. 

 

I inventoried pantry, fridge, both freezers. Worked out a list. And owing to my 'vulnerability' as a certified Heartie, he took the list and set off alone to do the supermarket round. We use three 'supermarkets' to keep our house stocked (plus a couple of subscriptions to different online suppliers for gluten-free and cat supplies) and Paul had a list for each. 

 

NOTE: regarding supermarket chains, the one we had been using for years was bought out by a pair of muslim brothers who like to buy up every damn essential retail thing they can and then stop selling non-halal in said retail units including their filling station convenience stores. Their filthy enterprise owns filling stations, coffee shops (they've just bought Costa), and now ASDA. I hesitate, living in SNP dominated Scotland (where the muslim Justice Minister is trying to make a law criminalising saying I don't like or trust muslims)to say this publicly but the truth is after the decades of personal sometimes very negative experiences with muslims, I don't like or trust them, I wish they'd never been allowed to migrate to the West - no such thing as a 'moderate muslim', anyone thinking there is needs mental health care. I don't wish any muslim physical harm but I wish with all my heart they weren't in the West even as tourists. I believe them to be a satanic cult trying to force their sickening shariah law on the world. I know who controls the transport (fuel) and food controls the world, these people should NEVER have been permitted to own filling stations and supermarkets, NEVER! So I will NEVER again darken the door of ASDA or any other shop these brothers or any other disgusting muslim owns. I had to scramble to find a new supermarket chain whose meat cases weren't filled with unlabelled halal slaughtered meat - I have but in the process I was shocked to discover most of the meat sold in Tesco and Sainsbury is unlabelled halal now in a misguided effort to 'be inclusive'. Yes I buy our meat from the local butcher but a supermarket chain that clearly labels any filthy halal slaughtered meat in a separate meat case is a shop that believes in making sure consumers know what they're buying and that policy carries through the rest of their stock. That is a shop I want to do business with. 

 

Paul returned home hours later and it took me several more hours to get everything put away. We're stocked for a siege. Wanna further your totalitarian dictatorship ways, Niclaw? Have at it, I'm ready!

 

I want to make a point of saying here I do believe there IS a pandemic and just now things are becoming yet more serious with the discovery of two mutations that are more infectious - and owing to the rise in ICU admitted cases and deaths shows every sign of being more deadly. Only an idiot travels and mixes unnecessarily, only a fool scorns proper hygiene and strict protocols for masks and other precautionary measures. And only dangerous idiotic fools make it necessary for Governments to enact and enforce strict laws meant to protect the public from spreading the virus - if everyone would just wash their hands, cover their mouth and nose (for feck sake, how in the hell does wearing a mask over the mouth but not the nose keep the virus from spewing into the air, how?!), and keep bloody distance from EVERYONE, it really is not rocket science, dammit!

 

As a consequence of the pandemic, racist BLM, virtue-signalling numpty celebs, the Eew trying to maintain its overlordship of Britain, the Fifth Columnist anti-Britainistas, the dangerously absurd election of Biden and Harris, and all the rest of the insanity we've seen rise like scum to the surface, 2020 has been a truly horrendous year. If 2021 is only a quarter as bad as 2020 has been, we'll be lucky.

 

God help us, we are surely going to need it!

Still Life In the Time Of Coronavirus part never-ends

 

sigh. Hands-Face-Space but our dear leader here in Scotland still insists the UK wide slogan is confusing and not for Scots, the wretched little harridan. She agreed a UK wide plan for the pandemic management over the Christmas week and promptly u-turned. As she does. Roll on May 2021 when we normal Scots can again try voting the little cow out of Holyrood!

 

FTR, Hands-Face-Space works. Works really really well.

 

Right, so onto other things. 

 

Ten years ago today (plus one, the actual date was 25th Nov 2010) the snow began falling and didn't stop until NYD 2011. At least where we lived (a county in NE Scotland). By early evening the snow was deep and glistening in the sharp cold and every flake hit the ground with a soft but discernable thud. It was magical. 

 

We all expected it to last a few days then melt off leaving us with a dull grey but snowless Christmas - who knew Christmas would see us and surrounding towns essentially cut-off owing to massive snowpack and ice so deep and heavy it pulled rones (rain gutters) off eaves and encased entire motor vehicles and buildings? It became the morning chore to break the overnight icicles off the roof edge, chip the ice off the path, and rake the snow off the roof.

 

Having recently arrived to Scotland after decades of living in hurricane and tornado prone areas, I spent the first few months (mid-August to mid-November) building a store cupboard sufficient to get us through several weeks (oh ok, the goal was three months worth of food and supplies storage and I'd achieved that goal by Halloween 2010) despite Paul's raised eyebrows and tut-tutting and outright open derision at my insistence we'd be glad of a fully stocked pantry.

 

And I was correct - not only we were glad of it but the neighbour with two small children was glad of it when the shops were bare and she had no milk, no bread, not even a tin of baked beans or soup. We had enough to share and we did. 

 

Yes, alright, the power never even flickered in our neighbourhood but had it gone down, we were ready for that - barbecue and charcoal, small LPG space heater, blankets, warm clothing, stored water for bathing-cleaning-small laundry in a galvanised tub he really wasn't happy to see (until we moved up here to the downsizer and the power went down long enough for me to start heating water on the barbie so I could do some dish-washing). 

 

Every day at least once a day we walked (skidded, slipped, skied without skis) down to the local shops - not to buy anything but to see how stocks were being replenished - or not. It's how we discovered our neighbour sobbing outside one of the shops at not being able to find so much inside as a turnip. 

 

Once it was over, snow melted back enough for gritting to happen on our low-priority streets so the lorries could get through, I invested in an adult sized plastic sledge (sled). Over the 'Big Freeze' I'd see countless shoppers hauling home what goods they could find on sledges and it made such good sense to me to have one hanging about to use 'in-case'. Naturally we've not needed it for that purpose, in fact we've not had even enough snow since then to justify climbing to the designated sledging spots for a bit of SnowDay fun (dammit). But we have if we need it. 

 

Right so that's my 'Gosh I wish it would snow like that again' moment. Onto to...

 

I FECKING HATE VARIFOCAL SPECTACLES - WHY DID I LET THE OPTOMETRIST TALK ME INTO THEM, WHY ????!!!!

 

First of all, huge shout-out to Glasses Direct, wow are they great! Superb customer service, ordering couldn't be easier once all the gorgeous frames are trawled through and a choice made. But blimey do I hate these *&$"*ing varifocals! I hate them so much I went back to Glasses Direct and ordered another pair of specs as bifocals (they don't do trifocals, no-one does unless I'm happy to splash out ££££s for the damn things) so I can finally see the embroidery AND the telly or read the labels at the supermarket AND find the aisle I need. 

 

What I'd like to know is if trifocals work (and believe me they do) why have they been phased out unless ££££s are paid for the 'antiquated' style - yes, my optometrist called my trifocals 'antiquated' and he said that with such an unpleasant sneering condescension I allowed myself to be persuaded to go for varifocals - pity his optical shop didn't have the frame width I need which cost him a sale and I had to order online from Glasses Direct. 

 

I'll never use that optometrist again but Glasses Direct has me for a customer for life.  Within a short hour of ordering my frames were sent to the lab (after a quick email exchange making some confirmations as to why I prefer to go with bifocals and which vision fields to put in the specs) and I'll be having my nice bifocals in a few days. And I'll FINALLY be able to see without being nauseated every fecking time I turn my head. grrrrrrrr!

 

So, that's where we are at the moment. Paul is hauling the Christmas Tree in from the shed, I'm pulling the boxes of decorations and baubles out of the cupboard. And we've done a Big Big Shop so we're basically tucked up for the winter and ready to get decking the halls and gardens for the 'festive season'. 

 

Now all we need is some good heavy snow!

 More Life In The Time Of Coronavirus 8 October 2020 0839hrs BST

 

Am I a 'foodie' because I now own a pasta machine? 

My life has always been somewhat restricted owing to my heart thingie(s) so the lockdown(s) and the 'restrictions' on movement, gatherings, etc, have been part of my life, always. I never really let my heart slow me down - I did what I wanted for the most part including serving in the USCG, having children, body and board surfing, horseback riding, tennis, and more. I simply understood from an early age I had to take things I wanted to do from an oblique angle rather than straight on. When I was tired or in pain, I stopped whatever it was and took a break - sometimes for days. I avoided climbing hills and stairs. 

 

As a young unattached female, I knew I couldn't club 7 nights a week, knew I couldn't stand up to the rigours of festivals, knew I had to be more careful than my friends about casual liaisons (I've had to be a germaphobe almost all my life, and besides, I read the Harrad Experiment and Michener's The Drifters in high school). There were rumours I was trying to cultivate an air of mystery, playing hard to get, whatever. Completely untrue, I simply had to spend several days recovering if I'd been out on an all-nighter. 

 

As a consequence I've always had non-strenuous hobbies and interests to keep myself from going mad during recovery times. I sew, I do yarn crafts, I embark on epic embroidery projects. I read both fiction and non-fiction. I use online forum message boarding. I keep busy in my own way. Hearties do that - we find ways to use our recovery time productively, we use tech to keep up with current affairs. 

 

We learn early on to find and use tools and machinery to make our lives easier. We buy automatic transmission cars, we use lightweight but powerful vacuum cleaners and steam mops; we love a good tool like a dishwasher makes all the difference in keeping the kitchen clean, for example - for a Heartie, standing there doing the washing up after baking or cooking is exhausting but rinsing and loading the dishwasher is definitely doable. We avoid Venetian Blinds like the dust catching nightmares to clean that those are. We learn having to schlep garments and curtains to the dry cleaner is madness so we usually avoid clothing that can't go into the washing machine (at a hygienic washing temp - Hearties are germaphobes) and tumble dryer. We avoid fussy anything including furniture and ornaments (aka bric-a-brac) - if we can't clean it with a quick damp cloth wipe and maybe some lemon and beeswax polish, we simply don't have it. 

Which brings me to my new pasta machine. During this latest pandemic, with its hysteria (yes, hysteria, it's all gone way over the top now, we're not in the middle of a Spanish Influenza or pneumonic plague style thing here, people!), though, even old-hand Lady Heartie me has had to cast about for inventive ways to fight off the crushing boredom of 'Can't Do That!'. So far I've learned how to bake blueberry muffins (don't laugh, blueberry muffins aren't as easy to bake as one would think, it's something of an art to keep the berries from dying the batter an unappetising bluey colour). I've made new curtains for every window in the house and ye gods, I've even used the leftover kitchen curtain fabrics to make toaster covers and double-ended oven gloves. I've been working on my seemingly never-ending quest to learn to speak Italian without slipping into the Spanish I've been speaking most of my life (growing up in Southern California in the 50s-70s made speaking Spanish a necessity). I've read books I thought I'd never read - I now understand why my father wouldn't let me read Dumas' The Lady of the Camellias now I've read it. (Still skipping Lady Chatterley, even I know when a book is too grown up for me)

Interestingly (or not, but if you've got this far surely you will find this interesting), my effort to finally learn to speak Italian didn't lead me to buying the pasta machine. My husband's Coeliac Disease did. He LOVES tagliatelle pasta - the true pasta for 'spag bol'. He loves fettucini (I admit I make a killer good Fettucini Alfredo in home-made sauce with julienne chicken filets and broccoli florets). He'd love ravioli but the only kind he's had is that tinned rubbish. I did find some 'fresh' ravioli in the upscale supermarket and he thought it was nice but then we discovered his mystery illness was Coeliac Disease and suddenly several years ago pasta meals became infrequent as I tried to find a reliable source of gluten-free (gf) pasta.

During lockdown I was wandering the Internet looking for the El Dorado of gf pasta and stumbled across pasta machines. Oh. Dear. That stumble became a dedicated hunt for information on pasta machines and the more I learned about pasta machines, the more I knew I needed one. Never mind I had/have NO idea where the hell I'm going to store this thing when not making fresh pasta, never mind keeping one hygienic clean is something of a nightmare (all those 'combs', wow!) - after a certain point I realised I HAD to have one. 

So, now I do. Have one, I mean, and thanks to all the research I knew to buy one that came with the ravioli press attachment. (TIP - DO NOT press the dough too thin or all the filling will fall into the machine and onto the worktop when the dough tears and it will be a terrible nightmare to clean up the mess). I found a robust well reviewed 'bundled' one on offer at a very reasonable price - ravioli attachment+cleaning brushes+recipe booklet. Delivered and straight onto the worktop to be tried. 

 

WOW! It's so fast and so easy to knock out a meal worth of fresh pasta that tastes so incredible we actually laugh out loud scornfully when passing the dried pasta shelves in the supermarket now. My husband asked me the other day if having it makes me a foodie (he was standing in the kitchen doorway salivating at the sight of fresh tagliatelle coming off the machine knowing spag bol was about to happen).

Does it? I wonder. I have my specialty baking tins and sheets (finally conquered Swiss Roll during lockdown - gf Yule Log Christmas Cake will be the dessert table centrepiece Christmas Day) and have three rolling pins, each with its own purpose - yes, I can make puff pastry and pie crusts and sugar cookies. I even have a biscuit press gun. I have a digital food scale and a mechanical one in-case the batt dies on my digi. I have three different sets of measuring cups and spoons+three different sizes of Pyrex jugs - in duplicate on the Pyrex, btw.

 

And speaking of Pyrex, I have two sets each of covered casserole and three sizes (also duplicates) of open Pyrex sheet pans. All my cook pots (and I have, ahem, many) and frying pans are catering trade grade stainless steel and yes, I have to have two knife racks to corral my kitchen knives. I have a a sharpening steel hanging from its very own hook on the pot rack. I have two sets of salt and pepper mills. My savoury spices and seasonings have their own cupboard separate from the baking ones in the kitchen as far from the hobs and oven as I can get them in my tiny 8x8ft galley kitchen. 

 

And I have 3-ring binders with plastic pockets to hold my recipe cards so Paul can fend for himself should I be in hospital with my stupid heart thingies. 

Oh hell, I may be a 'foodie' after all!

 LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS PART APPARENTLY NEVER-ENDS

Tuesday 22 September 2020 0819HRs BST

All across the UK it looks as though we'll be back under severe restrictions by the end of the day or at least by tomorrow (Wednesday). The PM is addressing the UK via television this afternoon, the FMs of the three devolved nations (Northern Ireland, Scotland, Wales) have either already placed stricter restrictions (NI, Wales) or are about to (Scotland). 

We anticipated this, Paul and I and many of our friends and neighbours - we've taken on-board lessons from the first lockdown and shored up weaknesses in our stored foods and supplies (for us it was primarily snacks but for others it was things like spices and seasonings, and butter) during the time we've had these short weeks after some of the restrictions were lifted - it has been especially nice to get out to shops together as a couple. We'd been planning our annual drive to see the changing colours - yes, we're 'leafers'. Now we're not sure if the mileage restrictions will be five or thirty miles - five miles makes starting the motor pointless but 30 might mean being able to see some autumnal leaves on the way to the seaside, also under 30 miles from us. We sit in the car and nibble our picnic watching the autumn settling in over the North Sea, it's lovely, and as well we usually drive up to the highest point in Dundee to see the colours from the great height.

 

We are of course annoyed as hell about the impending lockdown and 'strict restrictions' coming our way today and tomorrow - we blame the BLM louts who began the no social distancing or masks protests now erupting seemingly at every fallen leaf and the boozers, and holiday makers who insisted on no-masks pub crawls and holidays to The Continent as their 'human right' to have some fun. 

 

Selfish prats. 

 It's that day again. Last night I went out to look for shooting stars but instead found myself asking God to let today be a grey dull day rather than the usual beautiful sunny autumn day it was 19 years ago and has been nearly every 11 September since 2001. 

I just couldn't have faced another anniversary of that awful day dawning as bright and crisp and heartachingly gorgeous as it was that day.

And this morning it is grey and dull and threatening rain.

 Well, here I am, legally 64 years old. Honestly never thought about getting this far so I'm dead chuffed to be celebrating being 64. One of my closest friends from high school days emailed me a lovely birthday greeting this morning asking if I was planning to drive down to Liverpool ('When I'm 64' - The Beatles), had to disappoint him by saying just the drive six miles down the glen to the nearest supermarket was the big thrill for today. My husband does get bonus points for singing me the song at breakfast, that was very nice and I promised him on his 64th birthday (2022) I will still be sending him a valentine.

Back to that supermarket visit this morning, it was definitely an 'E ticket' grade drive over twisting narrow roads with lying water off the sides of the roads (sink hole anyone?!), leaden skies and spates of driving rain. Still, we managed to make the drive there and back comfortably (Paul kept it under 40mph and so it was not the usual Mr Toad's Wild Ride), and the supermarket visit was 'interesting' - first time couples were allowed together into shops including supermarkets. 

Per the 'new-normal rules', I donned a disposable three layer mask once out of the car and he pulled his scarf up around his face like an old time bandit (he had on his Australian cattle drover duster so he really did look the part of a stage coach robber!). It was AMAZING to actually go inside the store, I have to say. None of that Click and Collect tosh of putting something in the virtual trolley only to get to the virtual till and be told several items were no longer available. Huge hand sanitiser dispenser at the entry so I was able to sanitise my hands AND the trolley grip, that was nice. Everyone had to use it so I knew going in I could safely pick something off the shelf to purchase without being overly worried about possible contamination.

Surprisingly considering the complaints I've read online to the contrary, the other shoppers were great - no crowding, no 'trolley rage' incidents, no-one pushing past other shoppers to get something, and the only time I felt the slightest twinge of impatience was when the small family (Mum, Dad, newborn in carrier) lingered far too long over the fresh deli counter - all I wanted were two pizzas on the rack but I wasn't about to push past them. I waited until they (finally, ffs, pick yer pizza and bloody move on!) were completely past the 2m arrow markings before stepping forward from my 2m marker, grabbed my pizzas and moved on - as I did the man in the queue behind me thanked me 'for not dithering'. My pleasure, Sunshine, my pleasure.

Everything the C&C usually told me 'we're sorry but that item is no longer available for this trolley' was right there in the store, and the produce I succumbed to (tomatoes and potatoes) was GORGEOUS - fresh as though just off the vine and field. Moving through the till area was actually faster than it used to me, I think that perspex barrier inhibits long chats with the till operator so we were done and on our way out of the store in record time for a mid-day visit. 

Home again, we unloaded the boot, had the bags in the house and put away so quickly I almost didn't feel as though we'd been out at all.

BONUS: Kipling Angel Cakes (sinfully delicious individually wrapped little fingers of sponge and iced scrumminess, six to a box) were on offer - no need to see if there were any nice birthday cakes in the bakery section. 

My 64yo cup runneth over - and I do mean that. Being 64 definitely beats the alternative!

 LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS PART LAST

PUBLISHED 14 AUG 2020 1042HRS BST

Localised 'outbreaks' will continue leading to localised 'lockdown' but for the most part the pandemic appears to be over in my wee corner of the Kingdom. As long as people are sensible (strict hygiene, keeping distance from others, masks where appropriate) we should now begin to see a return to near-normal. 

 

Of course, the NHS all over the UK continues to claim they're working on clearing backlog (read if you should be having annual echocardiograms or other monitoring, or think you have cancer or heart disease, you're going to be waiting to the point of possibly dying whilst you wait), the death toll is being revised downwards to reflect 'more accurate data analysis' (read 'Oh dear, unless we change these stats we're going down as the 'European' country with the highest death toll!'), and wannbe little dictators like Nicola Sturgeon (Scottish First Minister) are rushing through all sorts while they still have a stranglehold on power - her latest is pushing through a 'hate' crime law so draconian no-one anywhere will have freedom of speech ever again - anywhere in the world speaking against, for example, unfettered criminal migration or the 'slamofication of the Western free world can see you extradited to Scotland to 'face judgement' if the SNP have their way. Oh, and her daily power exercise (read her daily coronavirus update press briefings televised by SkyNews and the BBC) continue - Lil'Nic is not going to give up her Hour of Power without a huge fight, I can assure you!

 

Meanwhile, here on the 'homefront' (read our house), things haven't really changed much and there really isn't anything new to report. 

 

Oh. Wait. Yesterday I was hit with a whomping case of heat exhaustion to the point of, well, you don't want to know except it was horrible and the heat cramps kept me waking every 30-45 minutes to try to make it to the bathroom. It got so alarming that around 3am we took the risk of telephoning 111 - surprisingly the person who answered was actually helpful despite our call not being 'Covid-related'. The GP telephoned first thing this morning to enquire - as the alarming symptom (and with the concurrent heat cramps feeling rather like a lower tum filled with razors) mercifully tapered off around 0600, I'm to do the Rice and Ice diet today, stay cool and telephone the surgery back if the most alarming symptom returns.   

 

I've had heat exhaustion so many times over the years I've actually lost count so I knew what to do and I knew when to worry. I've had heat stroke as well - twice. Part and parcel of having a lifelong heart condition. It's one of the reasons I am so particular to have hygrometers and thermometers in and out. 

 

But yesterday seemed to come out of nowhere, it was hot and humid inside and out but I did think I was managing it until the first awful heat cramp hit and I looked over at the coffee table temp-hygrometer to discover it was 27C (80F) and 70% humidity. I staggered outside where it was a 'mere' 26C (78.8F) while Paul moved the suddenly anaemic floor fan out and replaced it with the far more robust desk fan, opened all the windows (meaning the poor cat had to go in his crate - he's not allowed out for fear of killing the neighbour's chooks) and the front door. I stumbled back indoors, had an ice lollie, and enjoyed a respite in the lowered temperature of 23.8C (74.84F) and 60% humidity. 

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS PART 13
13 July 2020 0748hrs BST

WARNING: not-safe-for-snowflakes/SJW/virtue signallers/grammar natzis - Today I don't have the energy to edit - for Pathetically Correct phrasing, grammar, OR spelling. Get. Over. It.

We are having a washout summer here in NE Scotland and I'm coming to superstitiously believe I'm the cause - every single time I try to hang out washing, do some gardening, or fire up the barbecue, it bloody starts raining. And it has been so chilly as to require the heating to be kept on. This time last year we were sweltering.

Easing up of lockdown (mass quarantine to normal folk but we do love to dramatise here in Britain so we call it lockdown - more on that later) is underway with the uptick in cases making it clear perhaps 'trusting in good British common sense' was the dictionary definition of overly-optimistic. Beer gardens reopened - immediately there was a rush on and several brawls ensued. A rooftop open air bar reopened for booked events - which became a rather terrifying brawl.

Masks are 'recommended' in England and mandatory up here in Scotland.

And of course while absolutely no-one is willing to admit it, the correlation between 'BLM' protests here in the UK and the upswing in cases of the virus is unmistakeable. But we're 'not allowed' to say that.

A word about the word 'lockdown'. Schools, businesses, and military bases go into lockdown when there is an active shooter on the loose. Prisons go into lockdown when riots threaten or break out.

The word has a very negative connotation. So naturally the mass quarantine instituted (finally and a bit late but heigh ho) was deemed 'lockdown' here in the UK rather than what it was - a public health order for mass quarantine to protect the commonweal and the health care system. And frankly, the press and Government continuing to use the word lockdown to describe the mass quarantine had one effect and only that one - people resented becoming prisoners on lockdown, angry at 'being told what to do' and being threatened with prosecution for non-compliance and therefore flouted common sense at every opportunity. (Here is where I confess my dear husband has been sucked into the conspiracy vortex and refuses to go out if he has to wear a mask). Suddenly a very sensible way to contain the virus became politicised and a 'human rights' issue.

I despair, I really do. I have an opinion as to the origin of the virus (China and their comfort level at letting dangerous pathogens get loose from virology labs - perhaps as a way of testing a bio-weapon?). And I have an opinion regarding the so-called 'conspiracy theories', especially the one about the early hopes for 'herd immunity' via free-running the fecking virus through the general population being a jim-dandy way to cull 'useless eaters' (you know, those of us who are no longer in the workforce paying taxes out of our wage packets - the retired, the elderly, the disabled...).

But I do not believe the virus: doesn't really exist, the death toll is being exaggerated, it's all a plot to force martial law and cart people off to concentration camps, seize goods and property under some sort of hoarding law, or any of the other specious 'theories' making the rounds of the terminally paranoid.

There is a virus, it is a pandemic, it is killing hundreds of thousands and in an excruciatingly awful way for those whose condition puts them in ICU on ventilators. 

Had the phrase 'mass quarantine' been used (the way it was in several US areas), people would have been far less prone to resisting common sense - fewer people would be flouting the guidance and fewer people would be dead. I really believe that.

Presentation is all and had the effort to contain the virus been presented properly (credit where due, Boris did try), I do think the result and consequences would have been mitigated.

Meanwhile, Formula1 restarted last week with the 'added bonus' of useful ejit Lewis Hamilton banging on (read arrogantly and self-righteously bullying the other drivers and management) about 'taking the knee' at the start of every race (what few we PetrolHeads will enjoy this season) and how terribly racist F1 one is and how all white people have unconscious bias and the dreaded 'white privilege' syndrome and he's been so victimised by racism he just can't take it any longer.

And as a consequence his unthinking ludicrous virtue signalling is turning fans off him and Mercedes. Yesterday the one-two Merc podium angered more than pleased and the consensus across F1 fan forums was had fans been allowed in the stands, the booing would have been deafening. We like Bottas. We loathe Hamilton and by the way, is Hamilton happy to be thought perchance anti-Semitic as he never seems too interested in reminding Mercedes how they made THEIR money?

I've never had any real patience for speakers-not-doers. Hamilton especially grates as he lives in a tax-dodger paradise, is a multi-millionaire courtesy of gajillions of fans who have been putting up with his petulance for the past several years (since he broke it off with Nicole, actually) yet insists on earnestly wittering on about how hard done by he is and how he wants to see more black drivers wedged into F1 seats...forgetting he's half-white and forgetting he's all talk and no real action and completely ignoring his tax-dodger ways so he can keep hold of as much of his multi-millions as he can - that private jet doesn't maintain itself, after all, poor hard done by Lewis has to fork out his cash for upkeep so don't expect him to be donating to any 'let's give the disadvantaged blacks a helping hand' fund or setting up a real foundation that does real work to help those aforementioned disadvantaged blacks. And that million USD F1 has pledged to 'fight racism' in the F1, well, Lewis has dissed that saying that amount is 'chump change' towards the cause.

I wasn't going to say anything but his 'support' of BLM is completely unacceptable. While he was bullying his fellow drivers into 'taking a knee' at the start of the first race of the season, a young mother was being murdered by person or persons unknown for the crime of...

Saying to a group of BLM'ers that ALL lives matter.

She was white. The BLM'ers were black. They didn't like her saying all lives matter; they pretended to 'agree to disagree' then lay in wait hiding on an overpass and murdered her as she and her friends made their way home. 

Her father wants BLM declared a terrorist organisation and so do a growing number of sensible people of every race.

'You know it's real because it all happens at once.' 

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS PART 12
4 July 2020 0842hrs BST (British Summer Time)

This morning at one minute past midnight, hair services parlours in England re-opened. Apparently the rush was huge - people wanted their CoronaCuts remedied. I admit the minute Scotland gave permission for hair services to resume bookings I joined the virtual queue - my appointment is for mid-September. I can only hope my hair doesn't continue to drive me so mad the scissors beckon, whispering insidiously 'Come on, admit it, nothing could possibly be as bad as your last home-haircut effort. Give it a go, it's only hair...'

Nearly three hours ago bars and pubs across England were also permitted to re-open doors. I checked the newsfeeds before starting to write this new blog entry but haven't been able to find a word about queues of punters outside pubs from 0'Dark-Thirty in hope of being first in to order a pint. Plenty of snaps of people having their hair done but no snaps of wannbe drinkers.

Now, I love a good pub lunch but I'm not much of a drinker so I'm in no rush to get down the pub. Actually, in fact, thanks to Paul's Asperger's, I'm not a drinker at all - best not to try having a cheeky bottle of Merlot in the cupboard when I know my husband's condition means he'd have 'just a thimble full' which would lead to a jag lasting months. Right now his jag is Sprite, last month it was Diet Coke (eeeeewwww!). He also goes on food-jags so I have to be careful about what comes in the door via the supermarket shop. One bite of something with gluten and he's off his coeliac diet for weeks until the cumulative pain finally forces him to stop sneaking gluten.

Speaking of supermarket shopping, I've mentioned before we try to do a 'Big Shop' once a month (SUCH a £££saver!). When we realised the UK would likely be going into 'lockdown' mass quarantine back in late January we began doing something of a much bigger 'Big Shop' and by the time 'lockdown' was ordered we had plenty of toilet tissue, for example.

Owing to my multiple heart conditions we took the decision I would keep to the house and garden, and Paul would do the quick nips to the local supermarket we use as a sort of greengrocer (their produce tables are very, very good!) and the monthly pick-up at the butcher and the big supermarket 6 miles southeast of us. Owing to the police cheerily pulling motorists over if there were two people in the motor, I haven't left the mews since mid-February - Paul has done the drive down to pick-up our Click and Collect (C&C) online ASDA Grocery orders.

Thanks to the relaxation of lockdown restrictions we Scots can now ride in cars together as long as we're of the same household. Next week I will FINALLY leave our wee neighbourhood to venture out as a passenger to the C&C pick-up. Not sure what to expect of the scenery - Paul would come home from the C&C trips and tell me the town was like a ghost town, no cars, no pedestrians, no kids on bicycles, nothing, not even a roaming cat. But things are slowly beginning to re-open even here in Scotland where the 'First Minister' (FM) is still on a major power binge and openly ridiculing the Prime Minister for his 'shambolic' relaxing of the lockdown she's sure is keeping the virus at bay. Except along the entire border with Wales and England - those towns are still on lockdown as she claims the 'R' there is on the uptick. Face masks are now mandatory on public transport and in shops here in Scotland. Doubtless Sturgeon will soon order face masks anytime we're off our personal properties - the dozy mare does like to try one-upping the PM. She is an embarrassment to Scotland and the UK and so is the FM of Wales, btw. 

The Scottish power-mad little git is threatening people with legislation. Fly into England from one of the very many virus safe countries and get straight onto tourist attractions. Fly into Scotland and you'd best be minted - Lil'Nic's minions will slap you straight into quarantine a full fourteen days long, a quarantine the traveller must foot the bill for. She's also threatening to erect border guard shacks between England and Scotland to force incoming English (and any Scot 'foolish enough' in her words to have been Down South) into quarantine.

All in, though, my take is the lockdown all over the UK did keep the infection rates down, gave time to the NHS and public health bodies to come up with successful treatments for the virus, and kept the health care system from collapsing. There have been 'covidiot' fuelled outbreaks but for the most part Britons have stuck to the plan. We may have moaned (and oh my did we!) but we stuck with it with remarkable good humour when all is said and done. Jigsaw puzzle and craft supplies sales have been healthy enough to keep several businesses afloat, as has a surprising resurgence of good old fashioned British spirit of enterprise - can't sell the fish/flowers/veg/beer and other microbrewery products wholesale owing to shuttered 'non-essential' business buyers? Quick, open an online shop with delivery free to locals and voila, back in business.

Families and friends learned to Zoom/Skype 'virtual' Sunday roasts and birthday parties; online raves gave nascent DJs an audience they might never have had. Local authorities (councils, other government bodies) realised while Zoom could be hacked, with proper IT it was a champion way to cut costs of travel to 'real' meetings. Chelsea Flower Show went online as did numerous other annual shows (from quilts to tech, it was all online - not perfect but surprisingly satisfying).

Sure, we missed EastEnders - but the Drama Channel continues showing two full 'classic episodes' per weekday, and the BBC is giving us (and will until the new episodes are ready) a Monday night 'Secrets of' and a Tuesday night 'best of' episode. 

And WOW was the ITV broadcasting lockdown-filmed programming SUPERB! From 'Isolation Stories' (Robert Glenister and his son Tom were outstanding, BAFTA deserving, as was Sheridan Smith as an expectant mother on her own during lockdown) to Alan Titchmarsh and his team doing a lockdown 'growing your own' series, ITV kept us entertained. The BBC managed to pull one genuine winner out of its hat with Michael Sheen and David Tennant (their partners and some surprising 'guest stars - Dame Judi Dench for one) as themselves trying to do lockdown rehearsals via ZOOM was so good I'm keeping the 'box set' I recorded on the PVR to watch again.

We adapted. Actually we adapted quite well despite the moaning. Now if people will stick to wearing face masks, keeping to a strict personal hygiene routine, and ffs - keeping yer distance, we should manage to make it through any 'second wave' without collapsing the NHS.

Paul and I are hermits by nature so the only 'hardship' we had to endure was not being able to take a drive down to the seaside to picnic from the front seat of the car tucked into a car park bay overlooking the shore.

I dimly recall being a bit more social (but not by much. I took work in a bar for a brief time 40 years ago so I could get out nights without the hassle of actually being part of the crowd. I don't miss it) so I have some empathy for party animals who've been forced to be indoors alone. I have a huge compassion for the people whose furloughs have now morphed into redundancy.

But looking back on the lockdown and how we coped, I think if we have to go into another lockdown, we'll manage. If we can keep from knocking heads on the covidiots who forced us into a new lockdown, that is.

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS PART ELEVEN
SUNDAY 24 MAY 2020 0900HRS BST

Completely putting aside the virus, the Chinese attempt to end Hong Kong autonomy, and the growing furore over Dominic Cummings' supposed repeated 'breaking the lockdown rules he helped write' (should be so simple to prove-disprove if the man drove his family 250+miles to sightsee bluebells in the wood by checking the traffic cams, d'uh!). I need a break from it all. I've checked the dailies and am now going to waffle on about something 'closer to home' - reorganising my kitchen (again).

I've been searching the Internet for ideas - what a laugh when the best home reno sites promise to help the reader/viewer make a 'compact/tiny/small' kitchen work better and then the page opens to show a 15x20sq-ft kitchen claiming it as a tiny space in desperate need of extension rather than simple 'keep the footprint and make it work'. £50K later the homeowner has a bigger kitchen fit for 'entertaining the neighbourhood'. meh

My kitchen is 8x8. Feet, not square feet. Barring a lottery win (which one must play to have a chance at winning), there will be no extension (no-where to extend to, actually) and there will be no renovation (but a girl can dream - starting with moving the clothes washer to the bathroom and oh dear, I'd really need a big lottery win as that would mean re-wiring not only the kitchen but the bathroom and would also mean going from a bathroom to a shower room...).

After 18 months of living with the existing kitchen I know two things (after the realisation a real renovation is of course waaaaaaaaaaay out of my budget). One - my kitchen doesn't work the way it is. Two, getting it to work is going to take a whole lot of elbow grease (see below re painting).

I have no room in the kitchen for tools and equipment AND actual food. Problem solved - I bought a reasonably priced pine bookcase (tall) and re-jigged the living room furniture to permit placement of said bookcase just the other side of the kitchen wall (for easier access). Into that bookcase went the food. A door will eventually follow - perhaps. The now I have a tension rod and fabric curtain panel hiding the food from casual view. It looks quite 'Scottish Farmhouse' and I have enough fabric left to make new living room curtains and recover the ottoman.

And the kitchen tools and equipment are now happily in the cupboards, easy(ish) to get to without having to move this to get to that. Worktop now uncluttered (good thing as there isn't much worktop to clutter in the first place).

I want to replace the 1950s style fluorescent tube light fixture with flexible track lighting. Paul isn't keen. I don't care. Luckily it's a job I can do myself - if Paul doesn't decide an electrician must be called in and that's too expensive so replacing that horrible light fixture is out of the question. heh 

But more importantly, DAMN I loathe the cupboard doors! Ugly doesn't begin to describe the horror. They weren't cheap to fit - nothing cheap lasts 30 years and those have. But oh wow are they ugly and completely the wrong colouring to match that kitchen - faint brown veining on beige plus a cheap looking faux wood 'trim' at the top of each door and drawer front - ICK! Worse, the doors are melamine on press-wood so there's no painting them successfully to ensure 'easy clean-up'. dammit. Off I went to the 'Net and sadly quickly discovered replacing those doors with something I could paint (and then clean) was far-far-far over the budget. It might be less expensive to completely replace the cupboards altogether, that's how expensive replacement doors would have been.

So now I'm scouring the Internet for reasonably priced self-adhesive vinyl wrap to cover the horror and make that kitchen look more pulled together. Paul is sceptical - he understands wallpaper and self-adhesive surface cover and he knows that is going to be a nightmare job getting the wrap done right. heh. I'm way ahead of him - I'm looking at something with faint but distinct grey lines (bonus - matches the floor and worktop) so piecing in would be slightly easier and hide most 'mistakes'.

And new handles. OH MY WORD those are bloody expensive! So much so I'm considering trying one long copper pipe cut into handles, capped (so the cut ends don't shred hands) and an extension soldered on to make screwing the hand-crafted handles to the doors. We'll see. I envisioned lovely old fashioned cup handles, not copper (that will have to be coated or polished, eew, more work!) hand-crafted handles that will protrude a wee bit enough to catch clothing.

Paint. I have a gallon of primrose that will be going on what little visible wall there is in there. Right now it's a goldish beigey cream coffee-cup motif cushion vinyl wallpaper - an attempt to match up with the horrid cupboards? Who cares, I don't like it and want it gone. That's going to be an interesting job, getting 30 year old wallpaper off the wall, 'mudding'/plastering to make a smooth painting surface - but I relish the work I'm good at. Once it's done, even with the 'legacy tiles' (legacy meaning it's what was here when we bought the house), once the paint is done, that kitchen will be MINE.  

The 'legacy tiles' on the splashback. I actually quite like them and am trying to incorporate the beige-blue-poppy red colouring into the kitchen design (hahahahaha - my worktop is faux black and gold-flecked granite, my floor is faux ceramic black-grey veined vinyl). But if I can't work out a way to keep those tiles, I've discovered a work-around - peel and stick vinyl 'tiles' that cover the original tiles but not the grout. There are some really nice designs that would completely (once the cupboard doors are dealt with) change the look and feel in there. Would the 'fix' be scrubbable - dunno and am still trying to find reviews that tell me yes/no.

The truth is I'm not keen on tile - one of my Saturday morning chores as a teen was cleaning the grout on the kitchen walls and worktop and trust me, cleaning 50 year old grout is not fun or easy. I think it safe to say I hate tile. My preference is painted walls (and silicone seal at the base to keep splashes out of the wall) covered by a clean piece of glass. Don't laugh and don't roll your eyes in disdain - if you can afford to re-tile and if you have the energy and ability to contort yourself into back-wrenching positions to clean the tiles, good on yer. I can't afford to re-tile every five-ten years and I am in my mid-60s, I don't bend well any longer! One day, hopefully sooner rather than too much later, those tiles are coming down and paint+glass going up.

Sad to say this is not my dream kitchen even if I manage to work-around those tiles and get my cupboard doors re-covered. It's not the size, it's the way the appliances currently fit in there (and where). And it's the cupboards that should go to the ceiling but don't, leaving a a completely useless ten inch gap at the top.

If I played the lottery and won, I'd have to first have the kitchen and bathroom re-wired to accommodate the appliance reshuffle (including an industrial strength exhaust fan in the bathroom and fitting a tumble dryer over the washer).

In the kitchen, I'd leave the plumbing footprint. I'd move the clothes washer into the bathroom (which would become a shower room to make room for the washer and make getting a shower safer as well - oh my goodness why on earth are British bathtubs so bloody high-sided?!) and put a dishwasher in where the clothes washer is now. I'd put a single wall oven above the dishwasher. Directly across from those appliances, I'd fit an industrial strength exhaust fan through the wall, fit a ceramic hob cook-top with pots-pans storage below. Between those two walls I'd pull the current window and replace it with a 'greenhouse' window - not a deep one but a mere 12 inches would be enough to really make that kitchen feel bigger.

I'd replace all the cupboards with ones that usefully go to the ceiling leaving room where the current hob and oven are now for a frost-free American style side-by-side fridge-freezer. The lower cupboards would all be pull-out and the upper would be pull-down - I'm too old to be climbing on a step-ladder and bending into a bottom cupboard. And I'd replace the worktops with faux butcher block. I'd have a double bowl sink with a pull-out sprayer-tap.

Bathroom? Out-out-out with that 1960s bathtub with sides so high it's a struggle to climb in to get a shower! Compact water-saving toilet, compact hand-wash basin and vanity OR a pedestal one with a full-sized basin - the only things I keep in the vanity cupboard now are cleaning supplies and those could go in the household supply cupboard to be hand carried into the shower room. (I keep shampoo, towels, etc, in a linen cupboard outside the bathroom) Stacking clothes washer and tumble dryer vented to the outside. Efficient. functional. Brilliant.

But. But I'd keep the legacy tiling in there despite my not being keen on tile. It's pink-light grey and kitsch and I love it. I want to paint the un-tiled walls a very light grey to pick up the light grey in the tiling. I have reproduction vintage rosebud on cream curtains (over slat blinds - I'm not stupid, lol, and that window is to the front of the house), a mauve bath mat, and use mauve, purple, pink, and green (solids) towels. Aside from the weird painted over cushion vinyl wallpaper (creamy beige, really? In a pink bathroom, really?!) and miserably high tub, the bathroom is rather nice. Luckily Paul doesn't care what colour scheme is in there as long as the toilet flushes and the taps work reliably.

Sunday dreaming - Life in the Time of Coronavirus.

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS PART TEN (I think. I've lost count. What day is it?)

Yesterday at her daily televised one-upmanship display, our First Minister Nicola Sturgeon cheerfully informed the Scottish people (and the rest of the UK watching live SkyNews) she was thinking we might possibly - if we all behave ourselves and practice strict social distancing - and the 'R' factor (number of contagious to number of people the contagious can infect) stays at its current level of 00.07 to 1, and IF (big if, we are talking Nicola Sturgeon here) she thinks it safe, Thursday 28 May 2020 we will be able to 'drive to visit parents in the garden', have neighbours into the garden for a BBQ, and drive a reasonable distance to sit in the sun or take exercise in a 'beauty spot'. She stressed we must exercise good judgement if we want more relaxation of the restrictions.

Oh, and garden centres can reopen. But hairdressers cannot. It looks like another five months for that happy day.

Which means it will be safe for Paul and I to take a drive to the seaside or to the supermarket six miles south to collect our 'Click and Collect' shop. I'm thrilled.(please note I did not use an exclamation point to express real joy - one, I'll believe it when/if I see it, and two, I'm sick and tired of that dozy mare wretched little cow telling me and the rest of Scotland she's having an adult conversation with us whilst ensuring we all understand we're too stupid to know what's best for us so she has to take all the decisions to keep us safe).

It's a Bank Holiday Weekend. Naturally we will not have the restrictions relaxed for it. But I'm not sure it matters this Bank Holiday - yesterday afternoon the winds picked up to gale force speeds and haven't abated yet. The weather forecast for today is dismal although Sunday is forecast to be improving and Monday (the actual Bank Holiday) is forecast (of course) to be a glorious 68F and sunny. Considering our average daily temperature in NE Scotland this time of year is in the high 50sF, 68F is a blinkin' heat wave. Those of us lucky enough to have a garden will be able to 'enjoy' it as long as we don't have anyone from outside our household to share it with. We do have a garden and we're planning some tree pruning for the day.

Meanwhile - and this is the real reason I'm updating the blog today - China has several million citizens locked down again owing to the resurgeance of the virus. Worse, the virus has mutated again. It's done so at least 50 documented times and every time it does it mutates to a worse combination of symptoms and complications.

Here in the UK the growing scandal of the shocking and seemingly deliberate attempt to cull the elderly by forcing state-funded care homes to accept admissions of virus infected (and thus contagious) elderly patients being discharged from hospital has been overtaken by the growing scandal of critical care patients with 'Kawasaki-like' symptoms not even being tested for the virus. The admissions were/are children - but now are increasingly older teens and young 20somethings. Healthy youngsters. Who are now dying - but not in large enough numbers yet to cause genuine alarm and countless news reports.

Last night a friend living Down South (in England) telephoned to see how we're doing. His wife is on the 'high-risk' list. In all honesty we've been afraid to telephone them to see how they're doing as we were worried we'd find she was in hospital. She is a lovely tiny wee thing, her lungs are terribly compromised and things are at a point we didn't want to hear she has contracted the virus.

Any road, when this thing first started he was sceptical of it all. Now he's not. Before I handed the phone over to Paul, we talked about the 'broken glass' lung complication. We also talked about how his feisty wee wife is being far less feisty and much more cautious (thank-God). He mentioned she had to go for a scan and they had to sit in their car to be called into the hospital lab for the scan - and he couldn't go in with her when the fully PPE suited staffer beckoned her into the hospital for the scan.

Paul is worried about mandatory vaccinations once they find a vaccine against this thing. I keep trying to remind him 'they' can't even find a treatment for this thing owing to the many mutations, and 'they' can't even find a vaccine against the common cold (a coronavirus, let's not forget) so the chance of 'them' coming up with an effective vaccine for SARS-CoV-2 is so slim as to be none. There will be no vaccine for this thing, and it's going to go on to globally kill far more than the hundreds of thousands it already has.

The best we can do, any of us, is make sure our loose ends are tidied up - wills are up-to-date, our homes cleaned up so our loved ones (or whomever is stuck with the clear-out should we die without loved ones) don't have to work extra hard clearing out our homes. It would help if the skips (landfills/local dumps, for the American readers) were open! Supposedly that MAY happen around the first of June. We'll see. I suspect the queues to get into the skips once reopened will tailback for miles at the first few weeks.

Finally, again about China - apparently they believe we in the West are all so busy with the virus we'll take a pass on protesting the gross abuse of the treaty and are forcing a law on Hong Kong that effectively ends what democratic freedom the HK'ers have enjoyed since the handover back in the summer of 1997.

 

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS PART NINE

20 May 2020 0848hrs BST

 

Seriously??!!

Some ‘leading scientist’ (oh alright, I know who they are but I don’t feel like naming and shaming) are pushing a ‘rollover’ schedule of 50 on (meaning life as we used to know it) and 30 days in lockdown. Cambridge brainiacs are pushing an 80 on – 80 off schedule.

Because, you know, money really does grow on trees. 

Meanwhile up here in Scotland where lockdown hasn’t been eased one bit while Nicola Sturgeon ekes out every last second of her control-freak power trip, even the most law-abiding is sneaking out at night (I hear them from my porch late at night), they’re so fed up with this bloody damn useless ‘lockdown’. 

Every Thursday night we come out of our homes and clap (and bang wooden spoons on pots) to show our appreciation for essential workers. The Thursday night clap started as a way of saying thank-you to the NHS and has grown to include coppers, paramedics, binmen, couriers and posties (the real heroes of the lockdown if you ask me). And every Thursday night those residents lucky enough to live in neighbourhoods with a secluded aspect and more tolerant curtain twitchers, are gathering in slightly increasing numbers to clap – and then BBQ or share a doorstep picnic. 

More on Nicola Sturgeon – OH EFFing LORD this bitch has GOT TO GO! She refuses to let us get back to normal, and in her mind why should she when she knows the English taxpayers will have to foot the bill for her continuing this nightmare of ‘Police Scotland will enforce these rules’ she’s subjecting us to. 

Because, you know, we’re all effing ejits too stupid to come in out of the rain so she has to make sure we’re protected from ourselves…but every day flights into the three international airports here in Scotland continue with no quarantine or even the slightest restrictions on incomers. 

Same in the other three nations making up the UK, btw – every time someone sensible says ‘FFS, force quarantine on incomers or close the bloody entry ports!’ the muslins moan it’s muslinophobia, the airline companies scream they’re already in serious financial trouble (and definitely have their hands out hoping for Government handouts), the NHS swears they can’t do without their foreign ‘trained’ staffers, and the farmers who are making it nearly impossible for Britons to help bring in the harvests whinge they need the Bulgarians and Romanians to pick the harvests.

  

And yesterday – much, much closer to home, Paul nipped down the shop for BBQ sauce and found a masked middle-aged Chinese couple wandering around town taking in the sights. Clearly tourists, not residents – what the hell??!! I can’t go to the seaside to sit socially distanced in the car and watch the sea through the windscreen but Chinese (CHINESE, FFS!) tourists can come marvel at the sights of our wee town (without giving too much away, we live in a town famous for a certain author with several themed ‘attractions’ to honour the man and lure in tourists). 

And every effing day that ghastly Nicola Sturgeon gets on the telly trying to one-up the PM and what she’s taken to calling ‘the English Government’ by reminding us she’s the law in Scotland and we’d bloody well better remember that.

Meanwhile the lockdown is definitely wearing on Paul and me. We’re hermits at the best of times but being forced by threat of gaol and fines to be forbidden to take a drive, forbidden to meet with friends and neighbours, forbidden…AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH is taking its toll on us. We’re irritable with each other and the cat, we’re both spending far too much time on the Internet looking at cat videos, and I honestly cannot remember the last time I dressed in real clothes – I’m no longer browsing street clothes online, I’m looking at ‘loungewear’ (aka pajamas).

It’s insanity and now some ‘expert’ wants to tell the Government we should be on some sort of rolling schedule?

FO!