Posts tagged ‘Boris Johnson’

May 29, 2020

Year of the Plague in 2020 a far from average year – self-isolation diary. Week 10

Looking back at week 10 I have to report it was a most unusual week.

We had a liaison in a deserted graveyard with our son to receive some health supplies I needed – all gloved and masked up. Social distancing was practised throughout the short liaison which was odd, to say the least. Then it was straight back home and the bag taken from car boot to the quarantine room aka spare bedroom aka pantry for three days. He had slipped a honey comb in with the essentials so looking forward to that.

A couple of days later our daughter and son-in-law brought other medicine and rare commodities such as bags of flour and fresh yeast. It was a lovely warm day and chairs had been set out sufficiently distant from each other (pairs of) and we enjoyed a nearly normal visit albeit we sprayed their chairs and left them outside for several days afterwards.

Another major variation this week was a virtual family quiz. After some instructions earlier in the day from our granddaughter’s partner we got set up and it went remarkably well. Granddaughter spent hours compiling an excellent set of questions and really deserved her glass of wine during the quiz. Make that glasses. Tell me how many glasses does it take to affect eyesight? Grandson thought question about the Spanish Steps was a trick one but I couldn’t follow his logic of assuming they were somewhere in Spain since all steps in Spain are, er Spanish. Also since he has been up and down the Spanish Steps in Rome with US we weren’t too sympathetic when he struggled to get that one right. Well, he didn’t.

Despite all the medicines delivered last week wasn’t a great one for me but nothing too major. Managed to make some delicious griddle cakes which are a bit like girdle scones. Felt obliged to make something other than the bread my husband bakes given the amount of flour we now have; strong white, wholemeal, rye, spelt, Polish, plain white, SR white and banana flour. Yes, banana flour! And if any bananas turn up in our supermarket delivery this weekend I might bake a banana loaf using it. Bananas are a rare treat as we try to eat organic and they seem as rare as hen’s teeth although there were always plenty around when we used to get out shopping. What we did enjoy last week was an organic watermelon but I don’t think I’ll be making watermelon bread anytime soon.

The weather has been perfect for watermelons which is great for us folk with gardens but not so great for people without. Speaking to a friend on the phone who told me of a friend of hers with severe breathing problems has not been out the whole lockdown. He stays in a small flat. That must be hard. Another of her friends is slowly recovering from Covid19. He was extremely touch and go months ago and his voice was badly affected by the tubes down his throat so that he is only now finding his voice again.

Leaf cover means I can no longer report the starling saga in the tree across the road. Haven’t heard any great ruckus so assuming all is well there. Meanwhile our martins are busy doing what house martins do, eating mainly and tearing around at high speed – sounds like teenagers. They have been surveying another gable at our house for nesting, presumably, because our neighbours have again this year hung plastic carrier bags on the outside of theirs to deter the birds from nesting. Believe me it isn’t a good look (in all senses.)

Runner beans, lazing ladybird, evening sky, red tree peony, griddle cakes (weel done)

Most of the plants being raised in the greenhouse are enjoying the fine weather outside along with everybody else. Runner beans still romping away as much as possible given they are confined in pots. The summer savoury is possibly ready to eat but if we do that would clear one of the pots. The radish competition is hotting up and my five seedling are, well, seedlings not seeds anymore.

Still struggling to find anything we can bear to watch more than twice on Netflix and Amazon Prime (that we haven’t already seen.) I’m sure there are lots but not got into anything recently.

Finished reading Dreamers. The fascists still won. Latest fiction – I read other stuff all the time but the books mentioned are my bedtime reading. The latest as I write this is big, described as an epic and you can’t get bigger than that. As some of you know I’m not keen on big, epic, books as they’re not easy to hold up in bed and I tend to get bored before the end. Will see how I get on with the Icelandic Independent People by Halldór Laxness. It was recommended by my husband, he described it as superb. Annie Proulx described it as funny, clever, sardonic and brilliant though not directly to me. I like Annie Proulx’s writing, her descriptions are funny, clever, sardonic and brilliant.

I’ve not commented on the politics of the lockdown this week. Nothing I can say can top the bizarre and corrupt roguery that’s been happening with the backing of Johnson. We expect nothing less from the contemptible Cummings. Think they’ve ramped up the deceit surrounding ‘we’re all in this together’ crap. From the ridiculous to the sublime. I am not uncritical of the Scottish Government’s handling of Coronavirus, specially at the beginning (and I recognise how difficult handling a new virulent virus must be) but Scotland’s First Minister, Nicola Sturgeon has put herself up for scrutiny day in day out. She is faced with a hostile press not like the lame bunch down south and shows she has detail at her fingertips, adroitly handling questions on a wide range of topics. Compare with the bumbling fool that is Johnson. People thought that was an act. How tragic it is to discover he really is not clever but the biggest fool in Christendom. And not only a fool but ignorant. Totally and woefully ignorant – turning his head from side to side looking for someone to dig him out of a ditch because he hasn’t the first clue about – well, anything. Maybe that’s what he meant by dead in a ditch – his reputation.

Stay well.

May 13, 2020

Year of the Plague in 2020 a far from average year – self-isolation diary. Week 8

Hello again. Week 8 has come and gone and we are as is. Short of a vaccination for Covid-19 being found that is as good as it gets.

Death statistics are still pouring out of the mouths of politicians. All very sad. So they say. Do we believe them? Not when “…and sadly blah blah hundred died…” becomes a meaningless mantra. If only there had been warnings – examples of the spread through other countries to allow our governments to be proactive and not reactive and so alleviate the necessity of the daily mantra becoming a monthly mantra soon to be a seasonal mantra. What if they had been forewarned. Oh wait, they were. They waited – and – waited – and – waited – did they arrange orders for PPE? Did they pick. And so it is necessary to recite the mantra –“sadly” “sadly” “sadly.”

Heard today that the daily test number proudly announced by Hancock or someone like Hancock but probably not Johnson because he’s a work shirker was claimed to be on 10 May 70,000 when the actual figure was around 30,000. “Sadly.” Fewer than half the entirely fictional figure issued and regurgitated by UK journalists. “Sadly.”  Not only are politicians getting younger – they’re getting more duplicitous. Possibly. And very bad at arithmetic.

Daily deep clean of parts of the house continues to the extent it smells permanently of a gigolo’s oxter. “Sadly.”

The young seedlings in the greenhouse are looking pretty good. Apart from the courgettes which are very slow to germinate. “Sadly.” The compost discs eventually reconstituted themselves back into something resembling actual compost but now I’m wondering if that’s what the courgette seeds went into. Peas are doing great. Don’t think I mentioned peas before. They’re outside most of the time, which is more than can be said for the rest of us, despite the weather changing from summer back to winter (that relates to the peas, not people.)  I won’t add a “sadly” there because I don’t mind changeable weather.

In the garden tree seedling show their usual determination and grit and succeed in germinating everywhere. If we didn’t howk them out this place would become a forest in a matter of 6 months. Ash is the worst culprit but all sorts find their way in via air currents and birds’ backsides. “Sadly.”

Beech seedlings are popping up wherever I turn. They are very distinctive and beautiful – almost frilly cotyledons. See photo – if I remember to post it. But a blooming great beech tree or several is not a good idea in a relatively small garden. “Sadly.”

No food deliveries this week but there’s one due this next weekend. Been trying to order from another supermarket and after hours and hours  and days and days of clicking on ‘book a slot’ we got one – for the very end of the month. That’s June, all but. Good grief.

About the most memorable sight on my walks has been the reappearance of a local farmer who has been away recuperating from a heart attack. He looked as pleased as punch. And quite right too. Wild flowers keep on blooming in big numbers which is delightful always. Tree blossom, too, which is a joy and last time I meant to mention the bird’s eye cherry blossom which is now nearly past – “sadly.” I’m not so fond of it as our wild genes which look spectacular against blue skies but close up the bird’s eye is bonnie enough.

Our house martins seem to have deserted the nest they began. “Sadly.” I spotted three the other day – two flew round and around a deserted hut and eventually flew in through the open doorway. Then three flew out! One flew off while two (presumably the pair) flew back in. Perhaps they are ours who’ve chosen to go elsewhere. Looks like one martin has not got a mate. “Sadly.”

Our woodpeckers are ravenous, as usual. Eating peanuts and pecking at the occasional fat ball as though there was no tomorrow. The starlings, like the martins, are still not committing to their nest. In their case that’s good because the jackdaws will have the young. “Sadly.” The pheasants that visit everyday are great at picking away at seed thrown out of feeders and the bird table by smaller birds but I wish the cock pheasant had a more pleasant voice. And it amuses me when all those poetic types who talk so fondly of the dawn chorus and how lovely it is – never mention that after the blackbird strikes the first chord the coarse rasp of a cock pheasant comes next. “Sadly.”

Also sad was the poor bloodied body of a large toad on the road. The road beside us is crossed by hundreds of toads (used to be, fewer now) every season to lay their eggs and then they return across the same road. Every year they are killed under the wheels of motor vehicles. With this year’s lockdown the road has been much quieter – hurrah – and hopefully, fewer wee toads will have made the dangerous crossing unharmed. But not that poor wee soul we found – “sadly.”

Finished MacDougall Hay’s Gillespie. A good read. Impressive at times but it descended into melodrama towards the end. Tragedy for all concerned. “Sadly.”

Still no time to update you on our friends back from New Zealand. Maybe next time. Hopefully.

Stay safe.