They're all mad

I've come to the conclusion that Boris and all his hangers-on are clinically insane.

There they stood in their televised briefing last evening, serious faces on, telling us we've done so well and we've all been good boys and girls, but it's still a very serious situation which is why we can only meet up with five others outside over Easter and we must keep thinking Hands, Face, Space and Fresh Air. We must have the vaccine and continue to be very careful.

I wish he'd stop talking to us like we're a class of four-year-olds.

He's lost his mind... either that or he thinks we've lost ours. I'd have to have completely lost my mind before I'd believe any of that crap.

It's just one lie after another, all designed to keep us compliant and doing as we're told. Yesterday's Covid death figure for the entire country was 22... yep, 22. None at all in London. So because of those 22 deaths we are still not allowed to start getting back to any sort of normal life. How low do they want the figures to go? People die - yes, I'm well aware that every death is very sad, it's only last month that I went to a double funeral - but we can't keep living in this dystopian nightmare forever.

I think I'm just too old for all this - I don't like liars (I had far too much of that during my youth) and I've never been good at being told what to do. I'm too long in the tooth to start now.

I feel increasingly detached from the world outside these four walls. It's probably age... mind you, it doesn't help that the people in charge aren't fit to sweep the Westminster car park.

I give up with them. Cretins.

Thankfully the weather is getting better and it seems the worst of the winter is behind us now. Mr S-V has cut the grass and I gave the garden furniture its once yearly scrub down.

Roll on summer, we're ready for you!