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.
I got a text this morning to say were are supposed to get a delivery of some medical stuff today. Wow! The thought of someone actually coming through the front gate sets my heart pounding.
On top of that, today they are supposed to release a new version of WordPress! Glory be! I can’t wait. All that updating to look forward to [and then an evening trying to find out if there’s any difference to the old version – probably very little].
I also got a mail informing me that today is World Backup Day. Be still my beating heart. I’m looking forward now to not backing up anything.
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.
I went down to the village yesterday and there was a whacking great sign erected on the main street. It was one of those portable ones that they love sticking up at the side of motorways warning you of some minor danger ahead and generally causing a greater danger by distracting drivers. The sign was apparently a message from our health mob warning us all to keep our distance and that any illegally parked car would be towed away. I haven’t a fucking clue what the last bit was about as a) the place was deserted so there was tons of parking and b) I didn’t know cars had to practice social distancing anyway. How the fuck can the health service dictate where I park?
Neighbour sent me a text just after I got home. Apparently he had also just nipped down to the village [I must have just missed him] and had been stopped by The Law demanding to know where he was going and what he was at. I suppose if I had been stopped I would have been told I was a being naughty boy and to go back home at once. Aren’t we living in happy times?
The restrictions mean people should not leave their homes other than in very limited circumstances for the next fortnight, while people over 70, or with an underlying medical condition should not leave their homes at all.
Under emergency legislation passed by the Oireachtas on Thursday gardaí will be empowered to enforce these restrictions, including to detain people refusing to comply.
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.