Well, my two loved ones are slowly recovering from Covid but they're still dealing with intermittent fatigue and anosmia. The lack of taste and smell is particularly distressing because, when you're not well, you'd normally cheer yourself up with a few tasty treats... but it's not so cheering when everything tastes like cardboard, so I'm told.
I want to hug them and make everything better... but I can't. All we can do for now is chat on Skype and promise them a shedload of treats when their sense of taste returns.
Boris is dangling carrots before us - he's going to lay out his 'roadmap' on Monday; we may be allowed (how I hate that bloody word!) to do this or that but we must all be vigilant, have our vaccination (no chance, matey!) and follow the rules... blah, blah, blah. You know the stuff... we've heard it all before. It astounds me that he keeps giving out the same old BS and yet the media still hangs on his every word.
Boris, read my lips: Shove your roadmap up your rear orifice... sideways.
I saw this online yesterday. If it's happening to this family, it's happening to others. It's quite clear we're being lied to - I don't doubt for one moment Covid exists but dying 'with' Covid is very different from dying 'from' Covid. However, Govt needs the death figures inflated to keep us compliant. They're shameless in their lies.
Nearly a year into this bloody virus and everything is crap. I'm down to my very last nerve and about a millimetre away from the end of my tether. Much more of this and I'll be ready for the funny farm... the stress is killing me.
I'm not ashamed to say my mental health has really suffered over the past year, as it has for so many others - sadly, mental health issues aren't even being acknowledged by Govt and the NHS. Their mantra seems to be "If it's not Covid, we're not interested". Well, thanks for that - I'll take comfort from it next time I have a meltdown, shall I...?
The weather was nice yesterday, dry and quite mild, so for a short blast of sanity we went into the garden. Mr S-V removed the dying apple tree and planted a new greengage tree, bought online, which arrived in a huge cardboard box! A tree in a box... who'd a thunk it? It's a strange life - seems you can have just about anything delivered these days.
Sorry to hear the Duke of Edinburgh is still in hospital. He's almost 100 years old and things aren't sounding too good. Bit worrying. Keep going, Sir, we've had enough bad news.
No comments:
Post a Comment