Un Happy Halloween

 (un) Happy Halloween 😷

Halloween 2020 is a ghost like spectre of its annual self. Racks of reduced gruesome paraphernalia gather dust on shop shelves.Traditions fall dismally flat when trick or treating is banned or actively discouraged , excitement quelled when any gathering limited to 6, including children, even in tier 1. If there are parties they are wee mini ones to raise the spirits.  

I miss so much my annual multi generational fun; eating doughnuts from a rope, trying not to knock my teeth out grapping the apple from the bowl,  dressing in my witches costume. Simply being silly. 

Luckily Sussex hangs on tier 1, so I have still that basic luxury of seeing folk. as long as it s only 6 of us obviously, indoors. So I have relished fun, precious moments shining like diamonds in a river of mud. 

Memories which sustain me during the endless days of feeling more wading through mud than finding diamonds.  Living with an ever present creeping anxiety that any moment the ground will give way beneath me. The clocks have gone back. Days are dark, weather is continually wet, cold, windy. No one dare mention Xmas . 

And daily the news gets worse. Sod that mythical journey of my early spring optimism, we are not journeying through this pandemic, coronavirus is leading us on every step of the way. My only consolation to total disillusionment is a belief that I am not alone, more likely I represent millions of us. We are totally out of control, we lost our way to this virus months ago.

Those earlier posts, back in March, fill me with an emotion close to shame. How innocent was I. How gullible too, to fall for a parable of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Lockdown brought us time. Time squandered. It brought us our golden summer. But now that time past has cost us winter and most probably Christmas with our families. 

Today much of the UK, 11 million people, one fifth of the population,  can only meet anyone outside their household in public outdoor spaces. In the wind, in the rain, in the cold. Terrific. No wonder people's mood is a foul as the weather.

Todays depressing headlines: apparently the infection rates are spiralling out of control, faster, deadlier, than the worst case modelling.  Deaths today, 274. No matter how the figures are calculated, and god knows the stats have been changed often enough , coronavirus continues to win. 

So far I have been lucky although it does not feel like that. I have not been ill. None of my family have been ill. We have spent more time than I feared together this year after lockdown. All bar one of us is still in tier 1 areas. 

I try, I really try, to appreciate how lucky I am compared to so many. I cherish every day I can spend with my loved ones. I desperately seek out more time, craving hugs and kisses before we find ourselves once more forced apart. Yet creeping anxiety is ever present and today as the rain lashes down on a black stormy world it is hard to feel anything but dread at what lies ahead.  

Ever decreasing circles.

Ever decreasing circles 

This was originally a journal of a journey. 8 months on, the reality is a grim nightmare of travelling in ever decreasing circles.

I try to live as normally as possible in an abnormal world. Social distancing, rule of 6, are now part of my everyday.   Scheduling family visits as local lockdowns throw assorted areas into assorted tiers with assorted rules has become a weekly ordeal. 

Anger and bitterness replaced national unity many weeks ago.  Lockdown seems simplistic in retrospect, bathed in golden sunshine, the country pulling together, society pulling together to create cultural moments to unite us all. There are few rainbows fluttering now.

Bojo's policy of delegating Covid responsibilities and restrictions onto local authorities has ended in the inevitable. Wrangling over financial settlements have broken open fault lines macro and micro, pitting communities against each other.  

Tues Oct 20th, Government fails to reach agreement with leaders led by Mayor Andy Burnham in Greater Manchester , forcing  PM was bounced into imposing Tier 3 from Westminster.  

As the week goes on, generous packages are being dangled over their heads in what local leaders say is blackmail. More areas become Tier 3 hotspots, like South Yorkshire, and those in Tier 2 eye up the rising infection rate with fear. 

Sussex remains in tier 1, though for how long who knows. As does Norfolk. It is a measure of the speed life changes that only Wed did my beloved granddaughters there know I was coming to visit on Friday, and even that is a leap of faith.

There is a world weary cynicism. Bojo's popularity is now in minus figures. The nation fixates on his thinning hair rather than his speeches. Or, to put it bluntly, his credibility is shot. Rumours from Downing Street that he intends to resign in the spring "as he cannot manage on his salary" are treated with joyous contempt. 

I did not vote for our PM, but such is democracy. However, his public persona centred on his twin creeds of liberalism and localism. Both have come back to haunt him. The media of every persuasion have picked apart the tatters of the laughably inept Track and Test system revealing the flaws in his privatisation strategy. 

Alas this joke of a system is far from funny. It has cost the taxpayer billions whilst lined the pockets of businesses but worse, far worse, its failure has left us vulnerable to the second wave of the virus raging in all its fury.

Today the chancellor announced a more generous version of the job support system for those in tier 2. Accusations that this has finally popped up only after London moved into tier 2 cannot be answered satisfactorily. The poverty stricken North, after many weeks of tier 2 limitations, agree it is better than nothing. 

Since when did health and wealth become so divided. Surely they are two sides of a whole. None of us is one or the other. Only the truly wealthy or the truly sick can own this separation in any meaningful way. 

The battle over local financial settlements has shown this in stark contrast . Without work, without income, people die. Not of COVID . Of illness, malnutrition, mental health... Families fall apart. Lives fall apart. COVID can kill but so can poverty.  

In this weeks battle over funds Greater Manchester health authority insist they have the capacity to cope with increasing demand whilst the Government disputes this. Each side can produce the relevant figures.Lies, damn lies and statistics.

Is there any good news. Not really. The last time there was a glimmer of hope it turns out to be based on data missing tens of thousands of positive tests. I have to wonder if our country would ever have known had the scientists not cheered us all by saying the virus was dying out. We do know how to treat it better, which is one silver lining. The rest is confusion, chaos,  ever decreasing circles.

Looking back on this blog my writing in March and April was innocent, naive, simplistic. I believed I only had to get through 12 weeks before the worst was over. I was wrong.  

To laugh or to cry?

 To Laugh or To Cry, That is the Question

 Where to start. In a week which has lurched from crisis to conflict, where any unity within England let alone with Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland has vanished, any journey anywhere is out of the question, literally as well as figuratively.

The Government introduced formally its new 3 tier local lockdown strategy to much bafflement. Us down South remain in Tier 1, medium risk, i.e. lowest tier.  😆

Liverpool is dragged, kicking and screaming, immediately into Tier 3. Cue headlines of bullying from local authorities. 

London, Essex and assorted others fall rapidly into Tier 2, to take effect at midnight tonight. Neatly scuppering my much anticipated plan to visit my son and partner in London. Thank you Boris Johnson.

Andy Burnham, Manchester Mayor , has simply refused to accept at Tier 3 lockdown, demanding more financial support. Today the PM was forced into a press conference threatening the imposition of law if there is no 'agreement'.

Lancaster did agree earlier today to move into Tier 3, but only after negotiating a substantial package from Government coffers and one which differs substantially from Liverpool, not least in that gyms and leisure centres can remain open there. 

Labour's leader Kier Starmer has finally broken rank with the Government following the publication on Monday showing SAGE had recommended a national lockdown 3 weeks ago which Boris Johnson refused in favour of local restrictions.

Cue Sir Kier demanding this be implemented asap. Nice one. No one wants it but anyone with an ounce of common sense can see that we cannot go on like this.

An ineffectual privatised track and trace system has cost the taxpayer 12 billion pounds and counting , much to management consultancy firms. Corrupt barely does this justice. The testing system is likewise in chaos.  Cases are rising by thousands daily and can no longer be blamed on increased testing. More significantly, the death rate is rising dramatically, today at 136, nearly double from a fortnight ago.

The mothballed Nightingale hospitals are to be put on standby as admissions rise sharply. As predicated the infection rate which originally rose so rapidly amongst the young. especially so  when universities returned has migrated into the vulnerable and elderly.

I simply do not know whether to laugh or cry. I no longer think of this as a journey with a beginning, middle and an end. It is simply a matter of making the best of each day , trying not to look beyond the end of each week, whilst hoping against hope that tentative plans will not be dashed.

On the positive side, I may have lost my trip to London yet with luck and good weather  I can still see my son. Norfolk remains on Tier 1. Will it still be so in 7 days for my planned trip to visit my beloved granddaughters? Only time will tell.  

I would mind less if any of this made sense. In retrospect those barren lockdown months were simple. And , hard though it was, it worked. Economically and emotionally supported, 'we' travelled through that together as one nation.

Now I simply don't know whether to laugh at the futility of this ridiculous charade, or cry. Crying is the most honest answer. 

 

The world has gone mad

The world has gone mad

It is impossible to write anything now without the sensation of being transplanted into a parallel universe. If only.  As it is, trying to describe the main events of the past week in black and white writes like a script for a postmodern play, incoherent and incomprehensible. The world has gone mad.  

Donald Trump has dominated headlines with  action sequence after action sequence in his 'battle' with COVID.  First came the dramatic helicopter ride to hospital for a 77 year old obese man declared by doctors to be doing fine. Que?  Still, that distracted everyone enough from the complete chaos of a White House mass infection and a super spreader event amongst Republican donors the week previously. 

Cut from dramatic intro straight to grandiose finale, the live televised epic of 'the returning hero' only days later. After diverse treatments beyond the imagination let alone the purse of most Americans, Trump helicoptered back to the White House and emerged triumphant to stirring music to wave -minus mask- from the balcony. Ironic that this live stream did also catch his struggles to breath so the stock markets continue their deep diving .

Today as I write Trump is apparently well and announcing his brush with COVID  as a blessing from God. He is cured. An experimental drug works.  Facebook/Twitter  delete his posts that this virus is less deadly than the flu.  This beyond a joke monster is the most powerful man in the world. I despair.

One silver lining. Trump has refused to take part in  next weeks 'virtual' debate with the Democratic candidate, Joe Biden. Thank Goodness for small mercies. Trump 's bullying aggressive tactics turned that first 'in person' debate into a grotesque spectacle,  criticised worldwide.  

Here in the UK  we have our own surreal , bizarre situation.  'Fury in the North', the headline in todays Daily Mail, neatly sums up the dramatic and increasingly problematic North /South divide. 

Infections and hospital admissions are surging in the North and the Midlands. Local lockdowns are failing to control the rise. The PM is missing in action, claiming it is 'better' to pass the buck to local authorities.

Rumours abound that bars and restaurants, already on a 10 pm curfew, are to be shut down in these areas completely from Monday. As they already are in Scotland's central belt. MP's and Mayors who represent these hard struck and hard done by areas are livid at the lack of information and lack of funds. Absolutely Fair Enough. Many of these MPs are Tory's furious with their own Government for its incompetence. 

Us down South are still lucky by comparison as our rate is still low. Holding our breath, literally. At the minute, we need only to remember our masks and the rule of 6. Bizarre how many people can't count 😞. And for heaven's sake what is wrong with people who won't wear a mask! Its not a suit of armour, you idiots.

 Last but not least in this latest rant: Boris Johnson.

His avoidance of anything remotely resembling leadership over the greatest crisis of our time, COVID 19, was nowhere more obvious than when he wasted his leaders speech at the 2020 virtual Tory conference this week.  Flagship policy..a green energy pledge made originally in the manifesto before last and universally regarded as one that will never be honored.

His lectern banging reassurance that his 'mojo is back' echoed dismally in an empty room  in front of a row of cameras. He cut a pathetic figure, almost poignant to those who have any sympathy left. My loathing for him long extinguished any respect, let alone empathy. 

What new news tomorrow? Who knows. The world has gone mad. 

As the new series of 'Spitting Image' , revived after decades, found to its cost, you cannot satire the ridiculous. 

taken from Facebook. Unattributed.