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.