WHALE MEAT AGAIN
Anyone watch Queenie's "inspiring" broadcast last night?
Naw, me neither.
Anticipating the usual meaningless platitudes I found something more interesting to do (not a high bar to climb over) and waited to see if the morning's headlines suggested she'd said anything that in any way contributed to the current store of knowledge around the Covid-19 pandemic.
Hard to be hopeful of that happening because, unless I've missed something, she doesn't have any recognised expertise in epidemiology, virology, and/or immunology, or maybe even a bit of experience working with health stats. Come to think of it, she doesn't have any recognised expertise.
I understand there was a passing reference to the kind of 'blitz spirit' drivel ( a period which, for those who know their history, and don't wear blue, red and white tinted specs, included rampant profiteering, black marketeering and a huge surge in burglaries due to the blackout - so Jacob Piss-Dogg would have fitted in well) to appeal to the right wing knuckle draggers that would have formed a large proportion of her audience.
But she conspicuously failed to announce any of the things that she could have done to make a real contribution, to make it seem like we really might all be in this together.
She didn't offer to donate a portion of her obscenely vast inherited wealth to help out the NHS or all those people who have lost their incomes.
She didn't offer up some accommodation, in all those palaces and castles and big hooses, to homeless people for whom the phrase 'self isolation' is a sick joke.
She didn't even point out that her oldest son is a selfish dick who should be sacked from his 'job' for going, complete with entourage, to another country and risking the lives of the local community. If it's what Catherine Calderwood deserved....
So what's left? Yup, those same old meaningless platitudes. Vive la Republique!
Monday 6 April 2020
Sunday 5 April 2020
I will not walk 500 miles
THE 11K CASUALTY
Before the lockdown, before the virus did or did not hit me, I was managing to record a minimum of 11k steps on the wee step counter thingummy on my right wrist. The app told me I'd been doing that for a streak of 267 days in a row. It doesn't really tell me how fast or slow I did it, whether I put any bloody effort in or not, but at least I did... something.
And then the bug came, complete with 14 days self isolation, and, at least to start with, a shortness of breath that sometimes had me pausing half way up the one flight of stairs in the flat. Suddenly it was a struggle to crack 2k and the only records I was setting were for hours of body in bed and arse on sofa. As I started to feeling a bit better I got into the habit of walking aimlessly up and down the hall, just to see if I could get my step count up. (You ask why? What else is there to do...) And I'd be smashing through the giddy 4k barrier. Once I even passed double that, but only because I was trying to do a clear out of my jeans and trousers (and no, I'm not going to explain how that could result in my walking so far inside a not exactly vast space).
Now I'm allowed out again. But under the strict guidelines of course. Shopping trips were needed on the first two days, simply to restock the depleted cupboards, fridge and freezer. Without even thinking about it I suddenly found I was back over 11k. But today was just a going out for a bit of exercise day, and to make the target number almost half of the steps had to be done indoors. I made it. Just. That's a triumphant 3 day streak. But how many more days can I do this? Tracks are appearing in the carpets. The scenery is unchanging. And the inevitable comparison to a caged animal only falls down because most animals in cages manage to move a lot more elegantly than my gawky frame is capable of.
The streak, methinks, will not last long. As for thinking about Kiltwalk later in the year... I may have to accept that the arse/sofa interface will become a dominant factor in my life. We all have to #StayAtHome.
Thursday 2 April 2020
It's a different world
FREEDOM! (NOT FREEDOM...)
Fourteen long days have gone by and I released back into the wild. In an earlier post I mentioned we were both self isolating and not venturing out until third of April. Clearly whatever the bug was it affected my brain since I was unable to add up past a baker's dozen. Today was the day, not tomorrow.
For me it couldn't come soon enough. Never mind the actual illness, spending day after day in centrally heated rooms is enervating in itself. My brief forays out on to the balcony were never enough. So it was good to be back out, albeit alone. I still have a bit of tightness in my chest, but am otherwise feeling fully recovered. Not so Barbara who is not yet strong enough to hit the mean streets and still drifts off to sleep from time to time, still has headaches. But she had it worse than me from the start. A few more days yet.
Has it been THE virus? We still don't know. Maybe we never will. Strange times.
The official lockdown hadn't started when we shut ourselves away so it's a different world to return to, a world of restrictions, but also a world that feels fresher and more peaceful. And with better stocked shelves! First time I've seen a tin of tomatoes in weeks. How quickly we recalibrate our definitions of joyfulness.
Few people on the streets, few cars, everyone keeping their distance, buses almost empty. We now have to live under more draconian legislation than most of us have ever experienced, but being out in such quiet (in an area that is supposedly the mostly densely populated in Scotland) brings an odd sense of freedom to being out. Even though you know you can't be out for long it feels more like a holiday than the apocalypse.
Out of curiosity I went past three supermarkets to see what was happening. They all looked quiet, but only one, the local Sainsbury, had a queueing system (strictly 2m+ apart of course) and a one-out, one-in policy. The homeless guy outside one had a sign saying thanks to everyone who'd given him money, but he'd be having to find some other way to survive now. Nobody is carrying change any more. Will this be one of the long term outcomes from this crisis - the death of cash? And a consequent knock on to those who relied on the kindness of strangers?
We don't know yet, will not know for months to come maybe. But this different world is going to remain different, in ways we can't foresee. Capitalism has failed to cope and may not recover, at least in the aggressive form we've seen develop over the past forty years. UKGov daily briefings give us a conveyor belt of identikit lying twats who, defying credibility, are all apparently cabinet ministers. The only thing that can make Doris look vaguely competent is comparison with the orange manbaby across the water, where a disaster beyond Italian proportions appears to be unravelling. We urgently need that different world. We need to be out of this broken UK.
Fourteen long days have gone by and I released back into the wild. In an earlier post I mentioned we were both self isolating and not venturing out until third of April. Clearly whatever the bug was it affected my brain since I was unable to add up past a baker's dozen. Today was the day, not tomorrow.
For me it couldn't come soon enough. Never mind the actual illness, spending day after day in centrally heated rooms is enervating in itself. My brief forays out on to the balcony were never enough. So it was good to be back out, albeit alone. I still have a bit of tightness in my chest, but am otherwise feeling fully recovered. Not so Barbara who is not yet strong enough to hit the mean streets and still drifts off to sleep from time to time, still has headaches. But she had it worse than me from the start. A few more days yet.
Has it been THE virus? We still don't know. Maybe we never will. Strange times.
The official lockdown hadn't started when we shut ourselves away so it's a different world to return to, a world of restrictions, but also a world that feels fresher and more peaceful. And with better stocked shelves! First time I've seen a tin of tomatoes in weeks. How quickly we recalibrate our definitions of joyfulness.
Few people on the streets, few cars, everyone keeping their distance, buses almost empty. We now have to live under more draconian legislation than most of us have ever experienced, but being out in such quiet (in an area that is supposedly the mostly densely populated in Scotland) brings an odd sense of freedom to being out. Even though you know you can't be out for long it feels more like a holiday than the apocalypse.
Out of curiosity I went past three supermarkets to see what was happening. They all looked quiet, but only one, the local Sainsbury, had a queueing system (strictly 2m+ apart of course) and a one-out, one-in policy. The homeless guy outside one had a sign saying thanks to everyone who'd given him money, but he'd be having to find some other way to survive now. Nobody is carrying change any more. Will this be one of the long term outcomes from this crisis - the death of cash? And a consequent knock on to those who relied on the kindness of strangers?
We don't know yet, will not know for months to come maybe. But this different world is going to remain different, in ways we can't foresee. Capitalism has failed to cope and may not recover, at least in the aggressive form we've seen develop over the past forty years. UKGov daily briefings give us a conveyor belt of identikit lying twats who, defying credibility, are all apparently cabinet ministers. The only thing that can make Doris look vaguely competent is comparison with the orange manbaby across the water, where a disaster beyond Italian proportions appears to be unravelling. We urgently need that different world. We need to be out of this broken UK.
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