So,
“Let them die! Cummings” is now shown to have broken the lockdown rules that he
helped frame, by driving 250 miles from London when he was positive with the
Covid-19 virus to self-isolate in his parents’ house – a flagrant flouting of
the rules. If we look to the immediate
past, other high profile flouters have resigned. So should he.
He won’t of course. The Blond Buffoon would be lost,
directionless, gibbering – sorry, even more lost, directionless and gibbering,
without him. And where would Hardest of All
Hard Brexits be unless driven (ha!) by the Manic Mekon of Maliciousness!
I look forward to the puerile mendacity of
third-rate cabinet ministers (are there any others?) as they (yet again) defend
the defenceless. I do hope that the
Guardian manages to get an appropriately evil photograph of the Bald Bastard (I
can say that as I share his follicle challenge) to illustrate the mealy mouthed
explanations for his ‘entitled’ flouting.
If, of course, anyone deigns to give an explanation. It remains to be seen if there are sufficient
Tory MPs to force The Blond Buffoon into another U-Turn, and if there is a
feeling in the country that Cummings’ position is untenable. One can only hope!
This
comes at the same time as the fall-out from the self-quarantine for visitors to
the UK controversy; the continued failure of track and test; the chaos and
division on the school return plans; the continuing horror of the mismanagement
of Covid-19 in Care Homes; the total number of deaths and infections; the
release of SAGE advice showing just how political the decisions have been;
confusion of intentions about how, when and where we can holiday, and on and
on.
Our present government is exactly the
wrong group of politicians in position at exactly the wrong time. And there is a proposed trip for the Blond
Buffoon to the Orange Monster as if the link of shared shittiness was not close
and dirty enough even with an ocean between them, they have to get together to
share the shame!
My
bike ride this morning was through a positive throng of people walking, running
and cycling on the Paseo, the most crowded that I have experienced. The beach was also fairly densely populated
with some people swimming – it just shows you what odd times we are living in
that such a comment seems remarkable!
Given that Monday marks a further loosening of the restrictions, I
confidently expect there to be an exponential rise in people along the
front. We will be open to visits from
people in the whole Barcelona metropolitan area, though I am not sure that
overnight stays are yet allowed. There
are numbers of second homes in Castelldefels so there must be people itching to
get to the seaside for the traditional stay.
Sigh!
This means that our summer neighbours are
likely to arrive as soon as they are given permission, and then they will be
here until at least the middle of September.
Usually they arrive just after the schools close, though this year that
date is something of a moveable feast to say the least, more conjectural than
calendrical! [ look it up, it exists!]
My sports club can reopen on Monday as
well, though I am not sure that the pool will be open yet. The web site does not give information about
sports apart from some 1 to 1 activities in padel and pilates. Nothing about swimming. As my membership of the Club has been
temporarily suspended during the virus crisis I suppose that I will know that
things are getting back to normal when the bank starts taking money again! I am looking forward to my first lengths.
I assume that when swimming eventually
resumes it will be in a ‘timed’ slot and that changing facilities and showering
facilities will not be provided.
We may well have to turn up in our bathing
costumes and that means I will have to delve into my wardrobe and see if I can
find a tracksuit. That still fits! I fear that most of the bits and pieces of
past tracksuits are nylon based and therefore efficient producers of static electricity. As someone who has ‘fallen upwards’ after
crossing the carpet of the National Theatre and placing a hand on the exposed
metal stair rail and shocking myself from side to side as I instinctively
flinched away with one shocked hand and then grabbed for support with the other
to be shocked in turn, and so on – I am prone to crackling displays of painful
personal electric discharges. I dread
the return to nylonic [that doesn’t exist, but I like the sound] Faradaean
[that doesn’t either, ditto] excesses!
But, there again, no pain – no gain!
Just
watched 1917. Superb! I am usually quite squeamish about films
concerning the First World War, partly I think because I feel that I have an
emotional investment in the things as my grandfather was a volunteer at the
start of the war and he was someone who survived, though not without scars –
both literal and mental. He was wounded
during one ‘battle’ (if you can call the ill planned slaughter by upper class
idiots a ‘battle?) and was seriously enough wounded to be sent back to Britain
to recuperate. When he returned to his
point in the line, nothing had changed except the whole of his company had been
killed. Everyone.
Every time that I have walked past the
statue of Earl (!) Douglas Haig in London, I have felt a personal affront on
behalf of my grandfather. A man who
fought in the Somme. Ah well, let it go,
but I am not neutral when I see soldiers in the trenches. 1917 was a worthy addition to the sorry story
of the senseless slaughter in France and Belgium – that should never be forgotten. There are too many easy parallels of the waste
of human life in our present time for the excesses of 1914-1918 to be
ignored. Though it would be difficult to
say that the lesson has been learned.
A film worth watching.
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