Head Rambles

Well yesterday was a bit of a damp squib.

The medical stuff did arrive but the fucker just dropped it over the gate so I never even saw him.  I only realised it had arrived when I checked the CCTV.

WordPress did release their update but it was too late in the evening to start work on all the sites.  I did that this morning and of course it fucked up this one.  I had to add a temporary fix just so I could scribble this.  Doubtless the rest of the day will be wasted trying to find out what went wrong.  Fuck!  Bugger!  Shit!!

The other news from yesterday is that I hear our Glorious Gubmint is complaining that us oldies aren’t obeying their precious new rules and are wandering out in our masses to collect our pensions.  They can go bugger themselves with a bunch of brambles.

I have learned through a lifetime of experience that there are three ways to catch an infection – off kids, in crowded commuter trains and in offices.  These are places where I would be in contact for a prolonged period with people who had come from God knows where.  Once I quit work two of those vanished and my health improved dramatically.  The only source of infections now would be the Grandkids and I haven’t picked up anything from them in many years.

So I know when I am a risk or at risk.  Those risks are minuscule when I drop into the post office or shop.  As for going for a drive around the mountains or walking the dog at the Sally Gap there is less than zero risk.  But the gubmint has declared that I must stay at home and they must be obeyed.  And this is the nub of the matter.  It’s not that us oldies are heading to the post office or shops.  It’s not because we are driving around.  It is because we are not doing as we have been told.  We are naughty, disobedient lawbreakers and this pisses the gubmint off.

If/when I do go out I am well aware of the risks.  They are minimal to put it mildly.  Possibly I’m living in a virus hotspot which might change my attitude a little, but in their infinite wisdom they refuse to tell us where those hotspots are.  So I shall carry on doing what I have to do and they can stuff their rules.

I have seen comments on [anti]social media that we are a menace to society and should all be fined or locked up.  All I can say to them is that if they sincerely believe in blind obedience to their masters then maybe they should move to North Korea.

God help the future of this country.

I’m bored.

There is no reason for this. As I have said, life is no different from the pre-virus days but there is a subtle difference – I can’t do those things that I wouldn’t do anyway but can’t do now because of the restrictions. The fact that they don’t want me to do them makes me want to do them all the more.

The rebellious spirit is a tough task master.

Herself is suffering from the same malady. She hasn’t been out of the house in many months [she still hasn’t seen the car I bought last August] but suddenly now is roaring for a trip into the Great Outside. Her attitude is fuck the law [we’re well matched] which is grand, but I had to point out that there was nowhere to go as everywhere is shut.

Anyways. Fuck it. I’m going down the village later. I have to pick up some prescriptions and stock up on a couple of other things. If The Law finds me and gets uppity I’ll just declare that I’m insulted if they think I look that old. Or else I’ll refuse to wind down the car window on the grounds that I am scared of being infected.

If you don’t hear from me again it’s probably because I have been shipped off to the Leper Colony they have secretly been constructing on Great Blasket Island.

It is amazing just how much my life has changed recently.

It seems like a lifetime, but a mere four weeks ago my life was normal. It was a quiet life mainly spent in or around the Manor looking after Herself, myself and the animals. Maybe once or twice a week I would potter down to the village to get essential supplies [i.e. baccy and fags].

Then along came the virus and restrictions started to set in. Suddenly and without warning I found myself restricted to the Manor looking after Herself, myself and the animals. I was allowed to potter down to the village to get essential supplies [i.e. baccy and fags] once or twice a week but that was it.

Last night they severely tightened up on the restrictions and have police patrolling to make sure I abide by those restrictions. I am now restricted to the Manor looking after Herself, myself and the animals. I am allowed to potter down to the village to get essential supplies [i.e. baccy and fags] once or twice a week but that is it.

Actually there is an additional restriction and that is that no one over seventy is allowed out at all at all. I am to be officially cocooned. I am now restricted to the Manor looking after Herself, myself and the animals. But seeing as there is no one to do it for me, I shall still potter down to the village to get essential supplies [i.e. baccy and fags] once or twice a week.

If they ask my age, I shall lie.