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Already a year
This evening, at 7.40pm, a year ago, my mother died.
Already a year.
Hard to believe.
Of the past year, there are only three notable events.
- I got myself a car. Finally. Thirty years late.
And better yet, taught myself to drive.
Not to mention:
- The end of the world.
In case you hadn't noticed, the second wave is here and it's here hard but few politicians want a second lockdown having basically burned their bridges (and economy) the last time. But enough people not taking it seriously, those who feel somehow entitled to do as they please and have the rules be for other people, and the sheer amount of misinformation going around mean that the daily infection cases are already in excess of what was happening back in the Spring. Thankfully, fewer hospitalisations this time around, though perhaps balanced out by growing evidence that this one isn't sparing children. Oh, and the risk of reinfection as the "immunity" that you get from having had Covid only seems to be good for a few months - immunity isn't much use against a mutated form.
And, of course:
- The Brexit melodrama continues.
Because Britain knows what it wants, right? Unicorns. Free trade deals with no obligations. Unicorns. To slam the borders shut and keep out all the horrible foreigners. Unicorns. And in case anybody missed it, unicorns.
Problem is, four years of failed negotiation has clearly failed to teach them that their importance in the world is not what they thought it was. Since the government is currently run by a bunch of hardliners that seem to think we're still in Victorian times, I predict a complete disaster. But, usefully for the inept muppets in charge, all the pain and catastrophe can easily be blamed on Covid and the EU's supposed "intransigence" at not giving them everything they want as some sort of special case. Which is utterly depressing given that back when the EU was younger and more keen to keep Britain on board, Thatcher successfully negotiated a set of special clauses far better than anybody else had. Thrown away because of nationalist stupidity.
- Nou died, after a long life of being an outdoor cat and keeping the rodent population (and other cats) in fear.
- A small pile of fur turned up. It's basically a stomach with legs...
- Junior Eurovision happened, normal Eurovision didn't.
- I got a ride-on mower. Capricious as hell, but when it decides to start, it makes keeping the grass under control a simple job. I don't think the land has looked this good since before I had a job. Just a massive shame that mom never got to see it.
- A lovely Spring, followed by a lovely Summer that mutated into a baking hot heatwave.
- I got down to it and hacked my way through piles of brambles.
- Various random meals in a multi(rice)cooker, which usually amount to throwing some rice and other stuff into the pot and leaving it to get on with cooking it.
- Expensive car repairs, but then it's an old car. Why d'you think I'm saving all my spare pennies to get something younger?
- I sort myself out a proper toolbox. No more "where the hell did I put..." moments.
- How many breadmakers have I looked at/taken apart? I've lost count.
- Phone line broken. Again. I hope when we all get hooked up to fibre optic (by the fifteenth of Neverember), they put the thing underground.
- I give myself a haircut by just reaching back and hacking bits off. As my hair is normally an untamed disaster, it didn't actually look that bad. It didn't look good either, but I've never in my life aimed at being "sexy".
- BLACK LIVES F**KING MATTER - why in 2020 does this still need to be pointed out?
- And a bunch of videos and random blog entries "about stuff". Well, there are no vide greniers and I'm avoiding people as much as possible and the mowing can now be done in hours instead of days/weeks, so I have so much more time.
- Of course, we'll skip over the fact that for 90% of the time, I don't talk to anybody. I suppose many people would be driven mad by this. For me, it's recharge time for the 10% of the time that I have to interact with others.
But, none of that changes the fact. It's been a year. So today is definitely a day for listening to Gothique13 instead of PPN. And as for what's going on in the world? I've not checked the News app or The Guardian website. Today, I don't care.
Swallows and leaves
As I was starting the mowing yesterday, I saw many swallows flying overhead. By 2pm they had gone. I don't think those were my swallows as I've not seen them for several days. They were from somewhere else, taking a quick meal break on their way south. So, the fourth week of September is when they departed. I won't see them again until mid April.
Likewise, the cherry and willow are losing their leaves, as I mentioned the other day. The oaks are starting to turn brown as well. It'll be another seven months before the leaves and cherry blossoms return.
DIY Chai Latté
And so as not to leave today's blog entry on that note, I've put together a video, with the expected level of sarcasm...
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|Rick, 27th September 2020, 16:49|
Hmm, "It is the 211st of March 2020". I forgot that 11, 12, and 13 break the rule of st, nd, rd suffixes.
I'll need to fiddle with the PHP the next time I turn on the PC. Which will hopefully be before the 311st of March. 😉
|Gavin Wraith, 28th September 2020, 11:08|
Be content, ’tis but a nine days’ wonder, and as one sorrow drives out another, one passion another, one cloud another, one rumour is expelled by another; every day almost, come new news unto our ears, as how the sun was eclipsed, meteors seen in the air, monsters born, prodigies, how the Turks were overthrown in Persia, an earthquake in Helvetia, Calabria, Japan, or China, an inundation in Holland, a great plague in Constantinople, a fire at Prague, a dearth in Germany, such a man is made a lord, a bishop, another hanged, deposed, pressed to death, for some murder, treason, rape, theft, oppression, all which we do hear at first with a kind of admiration, detestation, consternation, but by and by they are buried in silence: thy father’s dead, thy brother robbed, wife runs mad, neighbour hath killed himself; ’tis heavy, ghastly, fearful news at first, in every man’s mouth, table talk; but after a while who speaks or thinks of it?
I thought you might like this passage from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. I thoroughly recommend this rich work as entertainment during the COVID winter evenings.
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Last read at 15:04 on 2020/09/29.
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