Happy Birthday to me!

Well, I didn’t get to go out for the birthday lunch I wanted, but I had lots of nice presents and four unexpected treats today! We decided to break lockdown 24 hours early and my lovely foursome arrived!! I was ecstatic. We sat in the garden, socially-distanced, drinking tea and eating cake. 

For lunch, after they'd gone, the two of us had dainty sandwiches (I even cut the crusts off) and scones with jam and clotted cream. A glass of Prosecco may also have been involved…

Mr S-V bravely offered to bake me a cake (for the first time in his life!) but then had a flash of inspiration and ordered an afternoon tea hamper from M&S instead. It was great – I’d recommend it.

It’s been a lovely day.

Tomorrow the lockdown officially eases and people can start to slowly take steps forward to some sort of normality, although politicians are still giving the doom and gloom narrative. It’s starting to look like this is the beginning of the end – we can’t stay locked up forever “just in case”. New cases and deaths are on a steady downward trend now and other countries have relaxed their lockdowns with no spike in deaths. Everything in life carries risk – you can’t eliminate it all.

Counsellors and therapists in this country are going to have their work cut out for them to deal with all the mental health issues that this has thrown up; when they can finally get back to work, they’ll be working 24/7, poor devils, just to keep people from jumping off tall buildings. I feel so sorry for anyone who was already suffering anxiety or depression before all this started – this won’t have made their lives any easier.

I really think it's time the Govt stopped the daily “Coronavirus Briefings” aka the litany of gloom they serve up in the guise of ‘keeping us informed’. It’s not information, it’s just a way to reiterate that they’re the ones in control.

Politicians for the first time in living memory have the entire country in fear and under control… unsurprisingly they’d like to hold onto that control.

Well, who’da thunk it...?

Angry...? Moi...?

Well, my mood hasn’t improved very much since my last post – I’ve been crying, furious and spitting nails for a few days. Does anyone in authority give a toss… in fact, does anyone at all (other than Mr S-V) give a toss? No.

So I’ll just bloody get on with it then.

Only one story has been dominating the news since last weekend – for what it's worth I think Dominic Cummings did one of two things… He drove to Durham because he needed childcare OR he drove to Durham because he thought the lockdown was pointless and unnecessary and he wanted to visit his parents.

Either way I don’t have any problem with it. Kudos to him for doing whatever the hell he wanted. The scum media are having a field day with it, but that says more about them than it does about him… and that’s the reason why they’re called ‘scum media’.

And breathe... 

Anyway... you still have to eat, even when you’re so brassed off you could scream.

straight out of the oven

I made an oven-baked frittata for lunch yesterday – been meaning to try it for a while.

I was afraid the eggy element might go a bit rubbery and I wasn’t at all convinced it’d work, but it did. Although thinking about it, I don’t know why I was worried, it’s just a quiche without the pastry. 

A decent quantity of roast veg (sweet potato, red peppers, red onions and a few stray mushrooms) a handful of broccoli florets, half a block of organic feta, six eggs whisked with half a tub of crème fraiche – it was easy and tasty and it didn’t look too bad. Nice with a few new potatoes and salad. Enough leftovers for today, too.

I’d like to say my mood will improve over the next few days but don’t hold your breath.

It’s my birthday on Sunday… a year older and still unable to hug the people I love. 

I may spontaneously combust.

Update:

Boris has had a rush of blood to the head. He has decreed that we are now allowed to have the family visit (only in groups of six, we must stay two metres apart and stay in the garden...ye gods!) Micromanagement much? Good luck with trying to enforce that one, matey.

Just how much control does he want over my life? Will the police arrive if my grandson comes into the house to use the loo?! Watch this space.

Bank Holiday Monday

It used to be called Whitsun. I don’t know when it changed, or why.

We should be on holiday this week with The Troops. However, owing to political panic and ineptitude, coupled with media hysteria, we’re at home. Our one chance this year to spend some extended quality time with the family. Not happening.

I couldn’t be more gutted. This is a really bitter pill to swallow.

I hate the way people are chirpily talking about a “new normal” when this needless lockdown is lifted. It’s like they’ve been drugged, forced to parrot the party line, all afraid to think for themselves. There is nothing normal about marker tape on supermarket floors, about crossing the road when someone walking their dog approaches, about wearing a mask in public…

… and there is nothing… absolutely NOTHING… even remotely normal about only speaking to my son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren on Skype when we should all be having fun together on holiday.

Accepting any of that as ‘normal’ means you’ve ceased to be human. Maybe the sheeple out there are happy to surrender their humanity, but I am not.

There’s a quote I like, variously attributed to Gandhi or George Orwell… it was probably neither, but it’s a good quote nonetheless… “You may be in a minority of one, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong”. Well, at some point I may be the only person still standing who’s refusing to wear a mask but, if it happens, I will be bloody proud of myself… and I will not be wrong.

Maybe Dominic Cummings has done us all a favour by treating the lockdown with the contempt it deserves. Good man. The more people that do the same, the better.

I despise our politicians for what they’ve done to us. Curse them all to Hell. Bastards.

Random stuff

Nicola Sturgeon. I can’t stand the woman and now her hair is bugging me! Under normal circs my hair is cut exactly like hers (mine’s mostly white though). Now… I look like Worzel Gummidge’s much scruffier sister while she looks like she’s just stepped out of a hair salon – so how does that work? I’m pretty sure her husband isn’t a hairstylist so does she have a snipper coming round dressed in full PPE? It’s a question that needs answering, I think.

The body-snatchers in Govt changed the law on organ donation yesterday; very helpfully sliding it out under cover of the Covid19 situation. Devious weasels that they are. So, instead of altruistically offering to donate your organs after your death, you are now ‘assumed’ to have given consent if you don't go online and opt out… which I already have. Bloody cheek! You’re not having mine, matey.

Schools are supposed to be opening again on 1^st of June. Unsurprisingly the teaching unions are throwing every possible tantrum and squawking that it’s unsafe. Is it really unsafe or could it possibly be that teachers just like being at home on full pay? No… surely not?!

The sooner schools go back, the better – it means it’ll become harder and harder to continue the draconian measures under which we’ve all been living for the last two months.

The longer this ridiculous lockdown goes on, the more it becomes obvious that it was never necessary. We’re only where we are because of Govt incompetence and now we’re looking to the same incompetents to get us out of this.

This is not going to end well, I fear.

If only he was a plumber...

It's a shame my son’s not a plumber, a domestic cleaner or even a potential housebuyer; all of those are allowed in your house, apparently… but your adult children are not, according to the Govt. Maybe I should put our house up for sale – my son could come round as a potential buyer!

I wonder how long people will abide by this ridiculous edict. The new advice Boris came up with last weekend is already starting to unravel as it becomes obvious that none of it hangs together. People are going back to work on public transport and certain groups of children will be allowed to go back to school, there’s little point in trying to keep extended families away from each other. Anyone with a modicum of common sense can see that.

Common sense… ah, now there's a thing. None at all to be had at the moment. Rarer than bread flour in Sainsbury’s.

On the subject of common sense, I keep seeing people online discussing the best way to make a facemask; they’re hilarious – they’re so very serious and dedicated to the cause. I find the best way is not to go along with this nonsense and refuse point blank to wear one. I will not go out looking like a bloody bank robber. The more we comply, the further the Govt will push us. Do not submit… Resist, resist!

Next thing you know, they’ll be telling us what time to shower of a morning! Just remember, you heard it here first…

Had a very nice burger for lunch yesterday – no Linda McCartney burgers delivered in my shopping last week, so I improvised with griddled halloumi, a couple of griddled mushrooms, shredded lettuce and red onion and lots of mustard in toasted buns. Bloody lovely.

Lovely lotties

The lotties were looking especially nice when we walked over there on Thursday - the sun was out, it looked like a classic summer's day but there was a bitingly cold wind, the sort that makes your eyes water. I was glad to get back for a warming cuppa.

It might be mid-May and you could be forgiven for thinking it’s late spring/early summer, but the stupid weather we’ve had recently (easterly winds and night frosts) has massacred my little tomato plants. They look so sorry for themselves, poor things, I think the compost bin beckons.

Oh well, there’s always next year…

I've been out...

... to a supermarket! Because I’m so sick of this bloody nonsense.

I believed all this crap at the beginning and I’m really cross with myself for going along with the disaster narrative we were fed.

They said it was deadly, it was really serious, we were on the edge of the abyss – the only way to save ourselves was by cowering at home. In the event of us falling off the edge into said abyss, the PPE clad ‘heroes’ in the NHS would collectively come riding in on white chargers to save us… or so we were led to believe.

It's not been quite like that, has it? In fact, it was bull.

The NHS has not been overwhelmed – mainly because it’s been almost closed down to non-Covid patients. Sadly, people suffering serious illness have been too frightened to go to a hospital or their GP, because they’ve been so brainwashed by the Stay Home message. Oh, and now we’re being exhorted to ‘Stay Alert’ – whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean!

It's a long old road out of this predicament but, if we don’t start moving towards some sort of normality soon, there may not be much to get back to! We can’t just sit around waiting for Covid to go away… it won’t. Viruses aren’t like that, so do we stay locked down forever?!

That’s why we did our bit towards getting back to a modified form of normal this morning; I shot round the shop buying milk, cheese, fruit and veg… oh, and a couple of buns; it would have been rude not to after they’d gone to the trouble of making them!

OK, so I didn’t climb Everest, but it was a start. I’ve sat here for 8 bloody weeks, but I am not having my life put completely on hold any longer for something that may never happen. It’ll be a while yet until I can hug my son and grandchildren (yeah, thanks Boris!) but I feel I’ve at least taken a couple of small steps.

Under the new rules I’m allowed to meet my son, outside and 2 metres apart, in the morning and Mr S-V can meet him in the afternoon, apparently! Sod right off. I will not allow the bloody Government to micromanage my life to that degree.

I am not frightened of Covid, but I’m scared to bloody death of having a breakdown if I don’t get some kind of control over my life.

You carry on cowering, Boris – I’m going out, matey.

75th Anniversary of VE Day

The horrors of WW2. I can’t even imagine it. 

Ordinary people with extraordinary guts and determination fought to preserve this country’s freedoms back then; we owe them a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. 

My Dad was one of them.

Can you imagine the state we’d be in if war was declared now? 18-year-old lads back then were lining up, volunteering to fight, knowing they would quite possibly have to give their lives for their country. Women at home, who’d never worked before, were "Keeping the homes fires burning", driving trucks and joining the Land Army. These days the average 18-year-old needs a week in bed to recover if they break a nail or if someone unfriends them on Facebook… and don’t even mention our limp politicians – you’ll find more backbone in a damp dishcloth.

Just look at the way they’re handling the current situation; the people who’re telling us how to run (or maybe that should be ‘ruin’!) our lives, while Covid does its thing, aren’t fit to run a bath.

Everyone’s waiting with bated breath to see what Boris has to say for himself on Sunday – will we be allowed out, will we still be under house arrest, will schools open, will I be able to get my bloody hair cut? Who knows...? I swear Boris and his mates are working it out on the back of a fag packet.

People (sheeple?) are actually brainless enough to want this pantomime to continue! Just to prove how gullible and easily led they are, there was a hashtag #KeepTheLockdown trending on Twitter yesterday. What the hell’s the matter with them? Mind you, if we keep giving them 80% of their wages to stay at home, it’s hardly surprising they’re keen on keeping the lockdown. If we stopped paying them and the weather turned a bit chilly, they’d be back to work like a rat up a drain.

I shall be observing the two-minute silence for VE day this morning, for those people who fought at home and abroad and to whom we should be eternally grateful. They really were heroes. 

If they could see the state of this country right now, they’d probably wonder why the hell they bothered.

The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him

- G K Chesterton

Just an opinion (or six...)

I’m not a criminal… but I’m under house arrest.

I don’t have a contagious disease… but I’m quarantined.

I’m not a danger to anyone… but I’m not allowed to see my family.

Explain this to me if you can, because I’m damned if I can see the sense in it.

The Government has far exceeded its remit; it’s taken away many of the best parts of our life and left us with something that a growing proportion of people are increasingly finding unacceptable. They want to see their friends and family; they want to go to the pub, to the gym or out for dinner. Nothing earth-shattering, just everyday stuff. 

On a personal level, if I can’t hug my son and my grandchildren, then it’s no bloody life at all. I’m an adult, I’m big enough and ugly enough to decide for myself how much risk I’m prepared to take, thank you. Advise me, give me truthful information… then leave me alone to make my own decisions.

We were rushed into lockdown by a frightened Government – they had no exit plan and, now that people are starting to question the wisdom of this, they are clearly in panic mode about what to do next. “We’ll look at the science and tell you next week” doesn’t exactly inspire me with confidence, I’m sorry to say, because single-issue scientists have a very narrow view of the world – they don’t see the bigger picture. 

In the meantime, the economy is still dying on its feet and people are suffering… the Government would do well to remember that Covid-19 isn’t the only problem that needs dealing with right now. As a country we’ll struggle to get back from the mess we’ve been plunged into – Covid may well turn out to be the least of our problems. This will not be a quick or easy recovery.

However, looking on the bright side (joke!) a series of temporary Nightingale hospitals have sprung up around the country, all set up at great expense and raring to go. Only one problem… not needed, no patients in them! You really could not make it up.

Oh, and while I’m about it, I’m sick of having the NHS shoved down my throat at every possible opportunity. It is not my responsibility to protect the NHS – it’s actually their responsibility to protect me! Nor is everyone on the ‘frontline’ a ‘hero’… they’re just people doing their job. That’s what they're supposed to do and that's what we all pay for.

Being under lockdown is doing me no good at all – I’ve too much time to sit and cogitate about politicians who should be running the country, rather than running it into the ground.

I like Boris, I think he's a good bloke, but he needs to be brave and not allow his own experience of Covid to colour his judgement.

May Day

Mayday…mayday!

No, you’re alright, I don’t have an imminent emergency here – but it's May the first. Small children dancing round Maypoles on village greens, crowning the Queen of the May and all that. Yep, not happening is it?

Put in an order to our lovely farm shop yesterday – had a ride out this morning to collect it and gave the car a run into the bargain. We came back with a box of delights – asparagus, tomatoes, cauliflower, broccoli, apples, bananas, organic eggs, crème fraiche and… stand by, I’m going to use the ‘F’ word….they had flour!! I am now the proud owner of a bag of white bread flour and another bag of plain flour for biscuits, scones etc. What a find!

Seems like every man and his dog is recording a charity single for the NHS; Queen, James Blunt and now we have Amanda Holden strangling to death Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Bloody hell – as if people aren’t feeling bad enough, she’s determined to make them feel worse. Yes, thanks Amanda love, don’t ring us… we’ll ring you.

The NHS will soon have more money at its disposal than the GDP of a small country. Will they use it wisely…? I shouldn’t think so, they haven’t done since 1948.

Finally made some biccies yesterday because I knew I could get some more flour. They weren't bad but would have been better if I’d had plain flour. I had half the ingredients measured out when I realised I only had SR flour. Duh..! Well, they weren’t a disaster.