Things change

 

 

I am not going to be coerced into making fatuous New Year Resolutions; I refuse to be dragooned into making a list of aspirations just because everyone else is doing it at the same time.

     Actually, I don’t think that many people actually do make such lists – they are more the preserve of desperate editors on the Today programme on Radio 4, looking for a cheap and easy vox pop to pad out some time.  As if the events of 2021 going into the equally bleak looking 2022 have any lack of ‘real’ news items to sober-up any English (remember all the other nations of the UK have imposed restrictions) revellers who might be thinking of a better way to be after the festivities on an untrammelled New Year’s Eve!

     So, I am merely going to knuckle down again to the task of writing.  I have been remiss for the past umpteen days and, while it is easy to put such indolence down to ‘Christmas Preparations’ it would be a ludicrous overstatement of the amount of time that we actually spent on thinking about the 25^th.

 

     My card writing is now consigned to a single Christmas donation to Oxfam, and Christmas presents are strictly Catalan Family, and usually proscribed by family members in advance, to make things easier.  Food is catered for by a restaurant meal.  All one has to do is turn up.

     Unless, that is, after the traditional Christmas Eve giving of presents (shat out of a log) [it’s a Catalan thing] and returning home to sleep before the Christmas Meal, you happen to have an email on Christmas Day informing you that a swimming friend with whom you had a cup of tea a few days previously had tested positive for Covid.

     Everything changed.

     I was still within the four-day period after ‘last contact with the positive subject’ and so I had to isolate myself.  The test I took was negative, but I would need to take another on the Monday after Christmas to make sure that I was securely negative.

     I therefore I had a solitary Christmas Meal, and I was similarly alone for my Saint’s Day - Boxing Day or Saint Stephen’s Day.  In Catalonia a Name Day is more of a deal than in the UK (where the concept doesn’t really exist) as it usually involves a special meal and presents.

     Before any sympathy is wasted on poor little me, I might point out that I was able to make myself a sumptuous and self-indulgent Christmas Feast and, anyway, I had books to read!

     My name day celebrations will probably be postponed until next weekend, when The Family will come down to Castelldefels and enjoy a walk along the beach.

     A walk, I imagine that will be seen as something as a luxury in the coming days and weeks, when the Super Spreader Events that characterize national fiestas nowadays will inevitably result in a startling (though entirely predictable) increase in Covid infection – and the belated imposition of more stringent limitations on our freedom of movement.

     Admittedly, Catalonia has already imposed a curfew from 1am to 6am and has emphasised the social distance rules and strengthened the public association regulations, but I fear that, as is natural for politicians, it is too little too late. 

     Which makes the lack of action in England all the more startling and worrying. 

     The Tousled Thug who masquerades as Prime Minister has, yet again, abdicated his primary responsibility, which is striving to keep the people of the UK safe.  His ‘masterly inaction’ which in his sick mind he probably thinks is modelled on the behaviour of the late Queen Elizabeth, is rather more reminiscent of the appeasement of Chamberlain as he waves a little piece of paper with his interpretation of “The Science” to justify a cowardly ‘doing nothing’ to keep the semi-evolved dregs of the Conservative back benches quiescent.

     In one respect the woeful responses of our political masters have ‘worked’, in so far as a reasonable number of people to whom I have spoken have a sort of fatalistic acceptance that, “We’re all bound to get Covid at some time or other” which means that more and more people have bought-into the ‘herd immunity’ approach to pandemic management, with a shoulder-shrug to the consequent deaths that this acceptance must entail.

 

As the more observant reader will have noticed, there is a sort of ‘wasn’t that in the past’ sort of vibe about the previous writing.  Which is fair, as it was written a week ago.  Or more.

     In the meantime, I have tested negative again and life of sorts can resume.  Except.

     There is always an except.  My questionable knees have now decided to make a statement about their physical well-being and have opted for the ‘pain and discomfort’ way forwards.

     In what has been a remarkably limited number of days, my right knee has gone from ‘something ought to be done soon’ to ‘basically, not working’.  This has meant that my progress up, down, and along is now only possible with the ostentatious use of Toni’s crutches (a bargain, 12 euros on the internet).  And our house is composed almost entirely of stairs.  Or at least it seems that way to me as I tap and hobble my way around with a complete lack of grace and agility.

     In less than a week we have gone from the ‘something ought to be done’ to the ‘something has to be done – now!’ in a matter of days.  In the middle of a pandemic.

     I do have an appointment for ‘rehabilitation’ – but, at we don’t really know where my knees have been (so to speak) there is little for the medical staff to go on.  We are hoping that my obvious discomfort will prompt the people there to demand a scan, be appalled at what they see, and put me on a list for something.  Anything.  To make what is a fairly intolerable position slightly more acceptable.

     The waiting times for surgery that have been suggested to me, not necessarily from doctors, but from surprisingly well-informed casual acquaintances, has been at the far end of eight or nine months.  And I think, given the backlog thanks to Covid, that is a dewy-eyed optimistic prediction. 

     However.  At present, I have more pain than information, and I am looking forward to the Catalan health service coming forward, scalpel advanced, to my aid.  I have to say from previous experience with the medical services of this country, I have been more than impressed, and I will throw myself on their mercy – before I swallow whatever socialist principles are left to me and go private!

 

On the more positive side of life, the Family did come down to Castelldefels for my postponed Name Day and a good meal was had by all. 

     And it’s not raining. 

     One takes one’s positives where one finds them.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 68 – Friday, 22nd May

It is difficult not to term the Conservative Government’s U-Turn on the migrant workers health surcharge ‘humiliating’, but I suppose it is better to consider it a ‘fitting’ recognition of the essential service that such workers do, often on minimum wage and to ‘welcome’ any sign from the discredited third-raters that form the cabinet of humanity.  One can only hope that such grace is now applied to the self-harm of Brexit!  Fond hope – and that two-word expression of despair doesn’t merit an exclamation mark, just a weary sigh.

     At every step in the management of this crisis the government has come up short.  They have blustered, prevaricated, lied – but why go on, I have been writing the same sort of verbs about the Tories for the last decade, why, especially after the catastrophic debacle of the Brexit vote and its on-going car crash implementation should I be surprised that an even worse tragedy produces a signature catalogue of crass ineptitude?

The more I think about the production of A Streetcar Named Desire last night, the less satisfied I am with it.  Although it did give me shivers and almost reduce me to tears, I am left feeling that the production was slightly superficial, I was using my knowledge of the piece to flesh out my response; part of my involvement was recognition of the revisiting of the most effective parts of the play and a remembered delight in the structure and emotional complexity of the action.

     I was also struck by the artificiality of much of the dialogue, especially from Stanley, where he says things, and in such a way that he seems to step outside of his character and become a too eloquent part of the Tragedy with a capital T rather than the rough character in a gritty drama.

     Blanche is a role to kill for: camp, grotesque, twisted, vicious and unbearably vulnerable.  Salacious lush she might be, but she has lines of almost unendurable pathos – and truth.  At the height of her self-pitying drunkenness she shows a self-awareness of the essential strength and worth of her character that takes the breath away.

     At the end of the play as Blanche is led away and the card game recommences and the old life goes on, we get the same feeling as at the end of Death of a Salesman when Linda says of her dead husband and failed salesman, “Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.”  But, it’s too late, that’s the tragedy; it’s always too late.

     Thursday nights at 8.00pm have become a fixture in my week, and I am grateful to the National Theatre for making their films of productions available to the public.  If you have not yet see the productions on Facebook then I do urge you to experience the productions – and donate to the organizations as well of course!

     The next production (free streaming on Facebook from the 28^th of May for one week) is This House by James Graham, set in the House of Commons in the period from the General Election of 1974 to the Vote of Confidence in James Callaghan in 1979.  The major political figures are characters off-stage while the main action of the play is centred on the Whips offices of the Labour and Conservative parties.

     This is one of those plays that I regretted not being able to see, so I am delighted to have the opportunity to experience it via Facebook.

There was little increase in the wearing of facemasks as far as I could see today, though they are not mandatory for exercise.

     On Monday of next week we move to level 1 from level 0 here in the province of Barcelona.  This means that restaurants will open with service on sparse terraces; churches with be open up to 30%; groups of no more than 10 and various other loosening’s of the regulations.  There seems to be a belief that the mere passing of days will mark progress towards the mastering of the virus.  This is a false assumption.  The only way to cope with the virus is through testing, contact tracing and lockdown.  None of this is securely in place, neither in Catalonia nor in the UK.   Everything about this virus and its management is worrying.  Frightening.

Just to make things that little bit more difficult, a filling fell out yesterday evening.  I have been punctilious about brushing and looking after my teeth exactly because of my fear of what dental treatment might be in lockdown.  It was therefore with a certain amount of trepidation that we contacted the dentist this morning.  I was delighted (well, you know what I mean in relation to dentists) to find that not only was the dentist open, but they were making appointments and amazingly, I was fitting in at lunchtime next Tuesday.  That is what I call service!

     I do feel a certain trepidation about the appointment; it is difficult to be physically distanced when you are sitting in a dentist’s chair!  Another experience to add to the lockdown life!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 58 – Tuesday, 12th May

I slept the sleep of the dead after my exertions yesterday.  Though thinking about it, that metaphor could have been better chosen.  In fact, it is a wonder I ever get to sleep given my insatiable appetite for the depressingly predictable latest escapades of Orangeblond a portmanteau word I will now use to refer to the sad populist narcissistic twins of the USA and UK, as they vie with each other to show which one cares less about the population they pretend to ‘serve’.

     Try as I might, I cannot wean myself from the heady narcotic cocktail of BBC news and The Guardian, with a dash of Spanish and Catalan televisualisation to add an exotic spice to my neurosis.  Though, thinking about it, wouldn’t an absence of neurosis in these times argue a disassociation from what is actually going on that would be a compelling basis for a text book definition of mental illness?

     No one in Britain (including [especially?] the government) appears to have the slightest idea about what has been ““decided”” – and the double inverted commas there appear to be far too subtle to give a clear idea of the tenuous nature of the word as it is applied to government policy.

     Yesterday/today/tomorrow is when the population should/should not go to work by foot/bike/Star trek beam if possible and not by public transport unless you have to  .  .  .  and one could go on, but this government defies irony and sarcasm.

     600 deaths today, three thousand new cases – how is this a situation in which it is sensible to ease the lockdown.  The testing target was missed AGAIN yesterday – and without adequate testing, anything that the government says is nugatory.  So no surprise there then!

My bike ride this morning was fairly early, but there were many people around, with bikes outnumbering cars and the same thing on my bike ride in the evening.  The evening ride should be Plague Kid Free as their time to roam around ends at 7pm – except of course for those parents who don’t want to stick by the rules.  There were over twenty Plague Kids joining the adults on the paseo; and yes, I counted, just as I counted the number of cyclists who had lights on when I made my way back from the far end of Castelldefels (23 out of 127, if you are interested) and thought to myself, if people are not prepared to do something as simple as switching lights on in the darkness, what hope do we have for something more sophisticated and difficult when connected to the requirements for a successful lockdown?

     Not good!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 54 – Friday, 8th May

Where does one start? 

     It almost takes me back to what I realize now, were the morally halcyon days of the end of Thirteen Years of Tory Misrule when scandal followed scandal culminating in the heady sexuality (which I must admit I hardly appreciated at my age then) of the Profumo Scandal.  I can still recite the names of the main characters in that sordid grande affaire with salacious relish!  Of course the most notable thing about that particular scandal was that Profumo actually resigned.  A politician resigning!  Ah, those were the days.

     So we come to the present regime in the UK, another Tory regime with a decade of misrule behind it and a bewildering array of ‘resignable’ mistakes connected to the Covid crisis.

     The papers of SAGE have been released to the press but with redacted sections to protect the government’s narrative of ‘following the science’ as if there was a concept of Science that was absolute and beyond political mediation.  Were I a scientist advising the government, this government, I would be very, very concerned because it is fairly obvious that the Tory party is lining up the Science (with a capital ‘S’) to be the fall guy in the inevitable public inquiry.

     Let us continue with the catalogue of contempt.  The care homes situation does not seem to be getting any better.  On the anniversary of the liberation of Mauthausen, it is a cruel irony that the care homes in Europe now appear to have distressing overtones of extermination camps, in spite of the sterling service of care staff who are woefully and disgustingly underpaid, understaffed and under equipped.  How many elderly people have to die before this discredited government accepts its blame and works to ameliorate the situation?

     The continuing numerical farce of the testing seems to be unending and the increasingly discredited Beckett has not, again, accepted that he has failed.  And Beckett is one of the less noxious members of this government, especially when you consider that the organizing brain is the loathsome Cummings, the Marie Antoinette/L’eminence gris de nos jours but with a more vicious take on Marie’s airy dismissal, more of a “Let them die” sort of vibe rather than an invitation to appreciate brioche!

     The numbers of those infected continues to grow and the daily death count is a constant accusation.  One that cannot be avoided by using the amours of a randy professor to try and subvert the news on the day that the death rate became the largest in Europe.

     The comedy of errors that is the ordering and non-delivery and eventual delivery and delay and quality check and rejection and farce and death is something that is so absurd that it couldn’t be made up!

     The latest idiocy can be placed fairly firmly at the feet of the Blond Buffoon who ignoring parliament, decided to announce the easing of some of the lockdown measures.  Unfortunately the right-wing press has hailed the announcement as something of liberation from the tyranny of lockdown deprivation and has geared up the population to expect dramatic ‘freedom’ when the numbers of deaths and infections does not justify anything other than the mildest of loosening.  This weekend is going to be fine and it has a Bank Holiday, so people are going to expect sunbathing, beach visiting and lazing about in parks.  The expectation of more than is likely to be on offer is going to produce tensions that can have fatal consequences.

     Here in Catalonia and Castelldefels, the mere suggestion that there are going to be phases of loosening of lockdown has been enough to inflate expectations and suggest that it might be time to bring on the new normality.

     From my observation the young have comprehensively decided that they are immune to the virus and they are certainly acting as if the virus is only for the old.  I think that the transition from lockdown to anything that is not lockdown is going to be very difficult to bring off, when the younger part of the population thinks it is immune and the other feel that they have done more than enough already and are ready for a little (or a lot) of relaxation.

     It is going to be a rough few days - with worse to follow.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 45 – Wednesday, 29th APRIL

The Great Adventure! Or going to Lidl’s.  Such as the delights when you are in lockdown, you take your pleasures where you can define them!

     There are many more people around in Castelldefels, though as I passed over the motorway bridge the amount of traffic was small for the time of the day.

     Lidl was relatively full, though I didn’t have to wait before I entered the store to wash my hands in liquid alcohol and start shopping.  Most, but not all people inside the store were wearing masks, and I think that it is becoming a generational thing with the older shoppers being much more likely to be masked up rather than the young.

     As people are supposed to be alone when shopping, it does mean that there is a self regulating holdup when it comes to the checkout, and an infuriating lack of urgency by most when it comes to putting purchases inside bags to take away.

     I have to say that my trip to the shop was uneventful.  People were generally good in their distancing and there didn’t seem to be any shortages – apart form my 15 month mature Cheddar – luckily I stocked up during the last shop and so I still have a chunk left.

     I came back via the sea front to check on how people are working with the new regulations allowing a parent with up to three children to go for walks of less than 1km.  That was what most appeared to be doing as far as I could see, and there seemed to be fewer people on the beach, most were walking on the paseo.  It is still an oddly quiet and lonely activity to drive along the beach road, especially when the weather is encouraging people to come out and walk.

     As the weather steadily improves, it is going to be more and more difficult to keep people in their homes and I can’t help feeling that the government’s intention to allow adults to walk for exercise from this weekend is little more than following the feelings of the population rather than following the science.

     We do not have adequate testing in place in Catalonia and without testing then any successful and safe loosening of the restrictions is going to be a matter of luck rather than confident, evidence backed steps back to normality.  It is my fear that the increasing zest to get back to free movement is going to lead to an inevitable spike in infections and deaths in the autumn.

     For me, a sober assessment of my position would suggest that I fit a few of the criteria for ‘at-risk’ and I think that the onus of my continued existence is going to be squarely on what I think is an adequate approach to my own personal safety rather than going with the flow of governmental encouragement back to normality.

     There is much talk of the ‘new normality’, but too much of it is predicated on the basis that mere talk will make it true.  I do not think that many people have really come to terms with the length of time that there might realistically be before anything approaching previous levels of ordinary domestic intimacy will be back with us.  The double kiss of meeting is very much a thing of the past.  At the moment.  But old habits die hard and it doesn’t need much for people to forget that there was ever an interruption.

     Because we cannot see the virus, it takes an effort of the imagination to take danger seriously.  And it takes a steely determination to be constantly on guard; it is too easy to let your defences down momentarily, and that is all the virus needs to infect and threaten.

The pdf file for my chapbook, Coasts of Memory, is far too large to send via a simple email, and I have been looking to find ways to reduce the quality of the photos that are the major space takers.  I had thought that I would have to alter each of the photographic illustrations individually in some way or other, and then re-insert them into the document.  I tired to use one or two ideas and failed until I noticed that there was an option actually called ‘Reduce file size’ on the ‘File’ menu.  I wonder how many times I have opened that menu and simply not noticed that particularly helpful option!  I suppose it is better to have found it now rather than carry on with a series of futile half-arsed attempts at uninformed self-help!

     I have sent two copies of the file to Irene.  The first was a failure and there was no way that she was able to open it, I have sent the second and I have great hopes for that one.  I wait with trepidation!

     If the file is openable then I intend to send it out and ask recipients, if they feel so inclined, to contribute to NHS charities in their respective countries as payment. 

     This is an on-going enterprise!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 43 – Monday, 27th APRIL

Why does it come as no shock whatsoever that the Conservative Government is going to release the figures for the total of tests at the end of the month not at the end of the month?  Can it be that the 100k total of tests on which Hancock staked his future are going to be more problematic than he thought when he thoughtlessly uttered the guarantee earlier in the crisis? 

     So, the ‘end of the month’ becomes something of a moveable feast for the Conservatives when it comes to protecting one of their own – never mind about the people who died as a result of their failure to boost testing when the WHO was urging countries to “Test! Test! Test!”

     If the 100k is going to be difficult to reach to save the hide of little Matt, then perhaps we should steel ourselves to any one of the following:

1.              The endless month of April, in the same way as MPs are used to some debates continuing on one particular named day even if that day has long since passed.

2.              The offering of the total number of tests available rather than the tests actually taken.

3.              ‘Discovering’ tests from previous days that have not been counted.

4.              Making up the results.

5.              Lying.

6.              Redefining the concept of 100k

7.              Redefining the idea of a ‘test’

8.              Lying.

9.              Sacrificing Rees-Mogg to placate, well, everyone up to and including Tories.

10.          Lying.

And let’s deal with the, “this is no time to be replacing a key minister when we are in a crisis” as we are in the crisis we are in because of the key ministers that we have had to put up with.

     

     It’s about time that our political masters began to accept responsibility, and with that end in mind, I am glad that Johnson seems better, and he should now resign after his disgraceful lack of responsibility in going out of his way to put himself in harm’s way by rejecting advice to social distance.  If Beckett fails to get his 100k he should resign: he made it a key pledge, he should live or die by it.  And if we are presented (eventually) with 100k, then I would like the figures scrutinized by an independent body!

With the allowing of kids out and about, there is a definite sense of ‘emergence’ from the lockdown – even though this has just included one parent with up to thee kids, the pictures of something approaching normality in the streets has produce a real feeling of achievement and hope that the end of the crisis is in sight!

     People are beginning to think of what summer could be like if social distancing is still generally in place.  What are the beaches going to be looking like?  At the moment we are regaled with film on TV of groups on the beaches being moved on.  Perhaps by July we will have the beach filled with tight camps of families jealously guarding their ‘safe’ space.  One shudders to think about it too closely!

     From queuing for pollo and bread and meds, I think that people will still go on socially isolating almost like second nature nowadays, but the continued isolation in-house is the more difficult to take.  Especially is there is an element of age discrimination added to the mix!

The Catalan lesson on line was an unmitigated disaster.  My basic problem comes form the fact that in Google Meet my computer stubbornly refuses to recognize that my in-built microphone works.  In other programs of a meeting nature it has no problems but with Google Meet, although it allows my camera to work it does not extend that courtesy to my mic.

     I attempted to rectify the mic. problem by using my mobile phone as the audio component and my Mac as the screen.  This was a bad thing to do not only because I could not read the screen within a screen within a screen on the mobile phone as it was tiny, but also because electronically having both devices on produced the most appalling caterwauling interference.

     Then there was the attempt for all two of us in the class (sic) to try and open the pages that would give us the work that we had to complete before Friday.  We couldn’t find the bit to click on and eventually, after what could only be described as a painful attempt to get us all on the same page, we were sent a new link to get to the page.  That failed.  We were then sent via email the page in question with space for us to complete our homework.  That failed.

      I have done my homework, but I sent it as a separate file via email.  We will have to see how this develops!  At least we have a week to prepare for our next on line lesson.

     It will not be time enough!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 27 – Holy Saturday in Holy Week, 11th APRIL

We are waiting to hear what the traffic flow is like.  Spain and the UK have both emphasised that no one (except of course for Conservative Ministers) should travel during the Easter weekend.  We should all stay at home.  So far a large number of fines have been imposed on those who attempted to make the journey to second homes or to the beach.  The story of a group of people form the UK attempting to go on holiday to France via private jet both shocks and also doesn’t surprise: the rich assuming that rules are only for the poor.  Again.

     As I keep saying, I do realise that I am in a fortunate position being in a spacious home with access to a communal pool for my solitary walk – though today there was an entire family of parents and little girl in the tennis court next to our pool: on parent walking while the other played with the kid.  We even said, ¡Hola! to each other.  At a safe distance.  Such is community: you best show community spirit by shunning it!

The number of deaths reported in the UK continues to horrify and I have little faith in the ability of the government to organize themselves with sufficient efficacy to limit the growth in the numbers.  The distribution of masks and other PPE seems limited and the testing is little short of scandalous.

     In Catalonia we are entitled to a free mask, allegedly waiting for us in our local pharmacy, with the option to buy another mask.  Toni will have to find out if this is true by calling in to the pharmacy when he gets fresh bread.  It will at least be a small step in the right direction in coming to terms with the reality of the virus.

     Some firms in Spain are asking their workers to come back to work after the Easter Bank Holiday.  This is essential for the recovery of the economy, but I do not see how this can be done with any real degree of safety without adequate testing in place.  Some workplaces are simply not conducive to social separation and, with the best will in the world, people forget to be paranoid all the time and allow recently learned essential behaviour to slip.  Wearing a facemask is unpleasant and wearing it with glasses is clumsy and therefore all too likely to be pushed down or up rather than used constantly.

     You can sense, even in isolation, that people have a natural wish to ‘return to normality’ but if that totally understandable wish is allowed too soon, the end results will be deadly.  And, why should we expect or even want previous ‘normality’? 

     This virus and its progress and particularly the way that it has been dealt with by the politicians would seem to me to indicate in a blazingly obvious way that things must not be the same after this crisis.  The measures, financial, social and political that have been brought into play to cope with the crisis illustrate as clearly as possible the inadequacy of the previous financial, social and political measures.  Why should we return to proven, failed ways of life?

     You think of measures like guaranteeing a working wage; of housing the homeless; of supporting the NHS; of protecting people with disabilities – all the things that our austerity government previously said were unaffordable: now funded.  Failing railways renationalized; small businesses supported – no Socialist idea rejected!  If it can be done now, it could have been done then.  If it can be done now, it can go on being done.  If we pay money to keep airlines alive, then we own them.  We have already had the obscenity of Tesco receiving a governmental emergency handout and then paying a dividend to their shareowners.  How long do we go on encouraging with our money (and though I live in Catalonia I pay British taxes too) those who boost the inequalities in our society, giving ever more money to those who already have?  It seems to me that the message of one of the badges that I used to wear god knows how many years ago of “Eat the rich!” is more relevant now than it was then!  And what a condemnation of our political ‘progress’ that is.

     We cannot allow the billionaires and the big companies to pretend that they have nothing to do with the situation in which we find ourselves, not obviously in the making of the virus (though in my more paranoid conspiracy theory moments, I have my doubts!) but in the way that the government was equipped to deal with it.  Private Enterprise does not, essentially, care for us.  It is driven by profit and not by concern.  In times of crisis, it fails and allows government to ride to the rescue, and then, when things are better, it goes back to doing what it does best: exploit!

There is cloud cover, but intermittent sunshine – I’m not sure what this encourages on a population that really wants to get out and about.  Perhaps if it was blazing sunshine it would be more of a temptation, this neither one thing nor the other encourages people to go back indoors and watch something else on Netflix.  Probably.

Well, back to my daily poem.  I have an idea, its now just the working it up to be something that I can call a draft.  Check out what I have already written this Holy Week on smrnewpoems.blogspot.com