Every time a politician opens their mouth, things get worse.
Manchester, along with a large part of the North of England, has been put into Tier 3 and Wales is going into a 'firebreak' lockdown for a couple of weeks. Wee Nippy has just extended Scotland's 'circuit-breaker' for another week... and Boris? Who knows? He doesn't have a clue what he's going to do next.
No doubt, when everything opens up again, cases will go up and off we go again - more Tier 3s and local lockdowns, maybe over Christmas and New Year. Rinse and repeat...
Until someone grows some balls we'll just stumble from one bad decision to another, but sadly, Boris is weak. It's just a virus - there've been plenty of them since mankind first evolved and we'll need to learn to live with this one, same as we have with every other virus we've ever encountered. The only way to deal with this is herd immunity - we can't keep dipping in and out of lockdown forever... the economic damage is astronomical as is the damage done to people with illnesses other than Covid, most of whom are being ignored by the NHS, incidentally.
In search of a little light relief from the relentless doom and gloom, I read this piece about biscuits earlier this week. Who knew there was so much history to the humble biccie? My favourite is a plain digestive; the ones from M&S are really good, like McVitie's used to be before they ruined them. I'm also a fan of custard creams... in fact anything cheap and cheerful without chocolate will do me nicely, even a Rich Tea, but never dunked. I can't stand sog!
On the subject of biscuits we sent some Halloween chocs to the Troops, along with a tin of these little beauties. I'm reliably informed they are very nice... well actually, "Ahmazinnggg" is the exact word my daughter-in-law used in a text!
We change the clocks this weekend; it's staggering to think we hadn't even changed to summertime when all this Covid nonsense started. We will be plunged into darker afternoons but at least the mornings will be a little lighter for a while. Comfort food, in some quantity I think, will be required to get us through what promises to be a bloody awful winter.
Mr S-V is still manfully attempting to teach me to play chess... and I am still womanfully doing my best. It's probably true to say our games will never be quite on the Grandmaster scale, but I'm not giving in yet; he might, though!
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