The Coronavirus Diaries, 27th June 2021

Octavia is going to a party tonight. There may be thirty people. I am finding this difficult to imagine. Yesterday I gave a talk to a room, admittedly a large one, where there were around 150 people. two years ago this would not have seemed unusual. Maybe it’s how the pandemic has changed our attitudes and expectations in subtle ways which is going to affect how we behave in the coming months.

Astonishingly a member of the government has resigned after being caught on camera kissing someone. The someone is married to someone else. The kissing also breached socially distanced rules. Matt Hancock has been our Health Secretary. He has had links to deals that reek of cronyism, indeed the kissee was a friend he appointed who had benefitted from these deals, as did her brother. He of course did not resign for such things. Corruption and lies in our present government are such every day occurrences we have learned to accept them as the norm.

Boris Johnson, our unesteemed Prime Minister, is the Liar in Chief. He is also the Adulterer in Chief, so Matt Hancock may have been following his example, believing that casual acts of adultery were not only acceptable but part of the job description. Unfortunately for Hancock he is thoroughly disliked at the Department of Health, and someone appears to have leaked the CCTV footage to The Sun newspaper. I use newspaper in the loosest sense of the word. It is red top, a tabloid to avoid if what you really want is to learn what the news is, as are all the red tops.

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Domestic Drama

If my toe continues to change colour I may photograph it. For a horrible couple of hours this morning I thought it was broken. Yesterday afternoon I tripped on a paving stone and stubbed my toe. It was painful, but the pain seemed to subside. When I went to bed I saw it had turned purple. A night’s sleep, and it hurt going up and down the stairs. The whole toe is rather red and the purple patch means I shan’t be carrying out my plan to get my toenails painted after all, but the pain is minimal and I have no problem walking.

Such drama.

More drama over the fruit flies in the compost. There aren’t a huge number and they disperse pretty quickly, but they have become the new pawn in the continuing exertion of control by one of my neighbours who thinks the compost bin should be removed. If anyone reading this has any hot tips on products that discourage the fruit flies, do let me know. The only ones I have seen promise mass extermination. No wonder that I am thinking of braving the rain tomorrow and taking MasterB up to das Boot until Thursday. Wednesday’s forecast is for for a dry day, with rain returning on Thursday. I have work on Friday and over the weekend, so I can’t stay longer.
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Dreaming of a Catflap and My Own Garden

It was only as I reached the door, where Cookie was waiting impatiently having raced ahead of me up the stairs, that I realised how tired I was, and how I really didn’t want any cat politics tonight.

An eleven hour day, which was fine while I was working, but which suddenly caught up with me, and made my whole body sag. All I wanted to do was fuss MasterB, feed him and let him out while I ate a quick meal before bed.

Celia had called in to see him in the afternoon, but her text message said he hadn’t wanted to play or to be affectionate, but had eaten and then groomed himself intensively. Sorry Celia. Continue reading