Pop goes the weasel

Well, that was an interesting weekend, politically speaking. It's always nice to be proved right. I said Hancock was a jumped-up little weasel and a liar months ago... and I wasn't wrong. He's been caught out on camera kissing some woman in his office. Not his wife. Classy.

Not only did he cheat and lie to his wife and three children, he broke the Covid rules that he's so piously been preaching to the rest of us. The video of him groping his 'Parliamentary aide' was toe-curlingly awful - he's been forced to resign because rule-makers can't also be rule-breakers. Couldn't happen to a nicer (nastier?) bloke. It felt so satisfying to see him get his comeuppance.

Cheating on his wife and children is something for them to deal with... their business, not mine. I only care about the way his rules have changed our lives for the past 15 months. 

Businesses have been trashed, people have died without being able to spend time at the end with their loved ones, grandparents haven't seen their adult children and grandchildren; families have struggled desperately with the Draconian 'no visits' and 'no hugging' rules enforced in care homes... but, it seems, the rules didn't apply to the very person who made them.

The next time a Govt minister comes up with a damn fool Covid rule I'm supposed to follow - which they will when they invent another 'variant' this winter - I shall do as Hancock did... ignore it. 

Now, all we need to do is lose the idiot 'scientists', Whitty, Vallance, Van-Tam etc. who've been advising Boris, and we might be able to make some progress.

Weather not great today, overcast and grey mostly, so I spent some time in the kitchen making a double batch of Not Sausage Rolls - the last time we saw the Troops they completely cleaned me out of the stock I keep in the freezer!

Our wedding anniversary next week, sadly we won't be going out to lunch because I absolutely refuse to wear a mask. Another thing to lay at Matt bloody Hancock's door.

The longest day

21st June, the longest day and the Summer Solstice... and the central heating is on! 

It's cold, it's raining, and my hands were blue when I came out of M&S this morning. I think someone has turned Summer off at the mains; I wish they'd turn it back on again. 

Having picked a few strawberries last week, they seem to have gone into hibernation until the weather improves. I can't say I blame them. Instead of salads and summer fruits we're back on things like pasta bake and cauli cheese - it feels like October!

As well as being the longest day, today was also meant to be "Freedom Day" until Boris had an attack of the vapours and postponed it by four weeks. There's no guarantee, of course, that it'll actually take place on July 19th, but at least it gives him a month to think of some spurious reasons (aka... lies) why we have to extend the delay even further. 

He says things are "...looking good" for July 19th to be the "terminus point" for restrictions, but he's a proven liar so nothing he says carries much weight. He's also warning of a "rough winter" ahead, which sounds to me like he's already planning the next full lockdown. You can read him like a book...

Hopeless Hancock is planning for booster jabs in the autumn. I'm sure he'd add it to the water supply if he could. I must say, that jab sounds a bit weak and feeble to me if it needs a booster every six months.  As I said months ago, this hasn't been properly thought through or properly tested. People are still being treated like lab rats. 

It's almost impossible to see a GP for day-to-day illnesses already - if they have to keep administering boosters there'll be no chance of seeing one this side of the next millennium! For god's sake, don't get ill - you'll be on your own.

As of tomorrow we'll be heading inexorably into the shorter days of winter - I wonder if we'll be 'allowed' to have Christmas this year? I'm only asking.

Four more weeks... maybe

So, here we are. Another four weeks before the country opens up. 

Well, that's what Boris said on Monday... of course, there's a good chance he'll have invented a new variant by July 19th and we'll have another delay. Rinse and repeat. Ad nauseum.

If only we had someone in charge with balls and a backbone; someone who is aware of the damage he's doing; someone who isn't scared to say to the 'scientists', "No, enough is enough. I will not carry on dangling people on a string like this. We open up now".

Deaths are in single figures; as I've said before, how low does he want them to go? He's still worried about the NHS being overwhelmed, for god's sake. I am heartily sick of being made to live my life like this in order to protect a failing Public Service which, in fact, is offering no service at all unless you happen to have Covid. 

Anyone would think the NHS was a sacred cow that needs to be kept in a glass case, pristine and pure. It isn't. It's an outrageously expensive publicly funded service which isn't fit for purpose; a 'health' service which infected thousands of people with Covid who were in hospital with other unrelated conditions. They're keeping that one quiet, unsurprisingly.

No amount of "protecting" the NHS will improve it - it should have been ditched years ago. They still peddle the lie about it being "The envy of the world"! Yeah right! I'd say the rest of the world looks at the NHS and cringes at how bad it is.

We've cancelled the lunch reservation we made for our anniversary at the end of this month - it was a little beacon of light on the horizon, something to look forward to, but not now. Not when masks and social distancing are still in place, when I have to have the NHS app on my phone, when they want to take my temperature before I'm shown to a table and when I can't see the face of the waiter.

One day I will go out to lunch, I'll see my lovely physio about my dodgy knees, I'll go away for a weekend and I'll go to the jewellers to get my eternity ring fixed. One day. If I haven't died of fury before that day arrives...

In better news, we had breakfast in the garden this morning and then picked the first of this year's strawberries... all three of them! I'm hoping for enough of a crop to enable me to make a couple of jars of jam like last year, but three is a good start!

Summer, smells and sport

Lovely weather yesterday and today - it feels like a proper English summer. Warm, but not hot; breezy, but not enough to blow your sunhat off. 

Took a walk round the lotties and the farmer's field yesterday - he's growing oats again! 

I like the summer, little things like having the kitchen door open and being able to wander in and out for a few chives or a sprig of rosemary, picking a few strawberries or a handful of tomatoes for a salad and just feeling the breeze blowing in. 

The downside of summer, of course, is that it does tempt people to bring out their barbecues again. If the smell outside is anything to go by, cremated slabs of dead animal have appeared on many a dinner table this weekend. Nice... if you like that sort of thing. Yuk! If I had my way barbecues would be banned - they stink and they're anti-social.

News media is forecasting that Boris will be delaying the 'big reopening' by four weeks... damn and blast him. I think we all knew it was never going to happen - he's clinging on to that last shred of power for grim death. 

Strange though, that this 'deadly' virus is supposed to be so contagious, so dangerous that we all have to wear masks, stay socially distanced and have a double jab... but in Carbis Bay in Cornwall, where the G7 leaders are having a bit of a jolly at our expense, there's no need for any of those pesky, tiresome restrictions. Maybe Covid hasn't found its way over the Tamar... or maybe the whole thing has been nonsense from the very beginning, just a particularly nasty flu virus which never needed all the hoo-ha we've had surrounding it? Well, wash my mouth out!

England start their Euro 2020/2021 campaign today - I'd like to watch it, I've been a football fan for as long as I can remember, but I won't watch while they're indulging in this 'taking a knee' virtue-signalling crap. Being called a racist by Gareth Southgate because I disagree with bringing politics into sport is the last straw. I'll be rooting for any team we're playing against - I hope England lose every match.

Well, sadly, England won and so did Djokovic in the French Open - not what I wanted in either case but, as Mick Jagger sang, "You can't always get what you want".

Our 'wonderful' NHS

Unfortunately, I had experience today of our 'wonderful' NHS. 

I was on the phone for 21 minutes before someone deigned to answer. Thankfully I'm not desperately ill, I was ringing to ask about the possibility of booking an appointment where I could actually see a GP for a couple of ongoing problems.

"Hi, when do you estimate I'll be able to book an appointment to actually see a GP?"

"Well, they're only seeing patients by invitation. You have to speak to them by phone and they'll decide if they want to see you."

"But what if I want to see them?"

"Well, I can only book a face-to-face for some conditions. What's wrong with you?"

So I explained my medical conditions to someone who isn't a doctor, a nurse or even a pharmacist - someone who actually has no medical training whatsoever, in fact... at which point she replied "Let me see if that's on my list.... No, you'll have to have a telephone appointment for that".

She had all the empathy and sensitivity of a slap in the face. How anyone thought she was a suitable candidate for the job is beyond me. 

As Mr S-V pointed out, these are our NHS 'superheroes'. Just as well I wasn't bleeding to death... 

We've both had dental appts in the past year and Mr S-V has an appt with a consultant later this month. No problem at all. The only difference is... the dentist and consultant are seen privately - if they don't work, they don't get paid, whereas NHS GPs can make an occasional telephone call then sit around drinking coffee all day on full pay if they so choose. With no proper access to a GP is it any wonder people are turning up at A&E?

So, let me get this straight, I can see a dentist, a medical consultant, an optician, a hairdresser, a beautician... I can even get my ears pierced if I want to, but I can only see an NHS GP if invited to do so? Looks like GPs are delicate little flowers, fragile souls who need to be kept away from the very people they're paid to serve. 

Fine, well I'm glad we've cleared that up. I know where I stand... and it obviously won't be in my GP's office.

When zero isn't low enough

Zero Covid deaths were recorded in the UK yesterday.

Zero. Nil. Nada. Zilch.

Just think about that for a moment and let it sink in.

Think about what we've endured for the last 15 months. 

Think about masks, social distancing, not seeing or hugging your family and friends and why we're still living under some of those restrictions.

Think about the fear that was spread by Govt in order to ensure compliance.

Think about the trashing of the economy, the scale of the National debt, the businesses that have gone under, the livelihoods lost and the resultant unemployment and homelessness.

Think about not being with your dying loved ones in their final moments and saying your last goodbyes via an iPad.

Think about the people still waiting for treatment for anything not Covid related, those who died because they caught Covid in an NHS hospital, the women who had to give birth without their partner beside them, the GPs who still won't see patients face-to-face.

Think about the millions who've been encouraged, almost coerced, by Govt to have a so-called 'vaccine' which hasn't even finished clinical trials yet and for which doctors and scientists have no idea what the long-term side effects may be.

Think about the mental health issues, the suicide rate,  the children who've had their education disrupted.

Think about why we are all still under semi-lockdown and under threat that it may not be lifted on June 21st.

Think about all this. Think really, really hard. 

Now ask yourself who is to blame for the complete disaster that started unfolding in March 2020. 

If you don't answer "The Govt", then I'm afraid you are a lost soul and there is absolutely no hope for you.