... and still it goes on. London and other parts of the Southeast have been plunged into Tier 3 - I fully expect our area to follow suit after the Christmas 'amnesty'; the number of cases locally is rising, nothing exceptional, but just enough for panic stricken politicians to ruin a few more local businesses before the New Year.
Apparently, a group of idiot MPs have 'had talks' about whether we can still meet our families at Christmas. Boris says we can still get together but "...a shorter Christmas is a safer Christmas". Jesus Christ - another bloody slogan! They clearly wanted to renege on allowing people to meet up, but weren't brave enough to weather the backlash.
It's unbearable that these total tossers can exercise such control over my life. Oh, and just for the record, I'm sick of being spoken about by politicians as though I'm some sort of imbecile, without a mind of my own, just because I have a few years under my belt. I might be a Grandma but I'll make my own decisions, thanks, and I'll decide what risks I'm willing to take. I don't need to be taken by the hand and spoon-fed by an overpaid, jumped-up Civil Servant! I am just about keeping a lid on my rage... mostly.
As any football supporter (particularly West Ham fans, as I well know!) will tell you - "It's the hope that kills you", and that's one of the major problems we all have right now... there's no hope. Every single news bulletin, political interview and ministerial briefing only offers more doom and gloom - never any hope of better times, just more strictures and rules to adhere to. My mental health is shot to pieces - I can only imagine how bad it is for some poor souls.
People desperately need a break from all this Covid crap at Christmas, no matter how much misery-guts Whitty goes on about the risk. We have to feel normal for a short while so we can recharge our batteries before we plunge headlong into whatever 2021 holds. Give us something to hold onto, for god's sake!
I'm holding on to seeing our four lovely Troops on Christmas Eve and having an indulgent Christmas Day with Mr S-V. We'll probably end up watching The Godfather again - feet up on the sofa and something munchy to hand; it's become a bit of an annual tradition - what a great film!
We both bought Christmas cards for each other as we usually do - himself doesn't like the one he gave me and I really hate the one I gave him... but that's internet shopping for you!
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