A Bank Holiday, but why doesn’t it feel like it?
Slow start; it is a Bank Holiday after all. But the weather has turned out nice again despite last night’s wind (which is still about and quite chilly), so I am out in the garden again. It will soon get fed up with me.
(Rearranging the plants on the patio, since you ask. What has the world come to?)
There was a strange sound in the sky today. A distant, harsh droning sound. I am told it’s called an aeroplane. I couldn’t see anything, though the sky is clear. Maybe it’s rich people trying to hide from the common masses by flying high. I think we should be told.
And that, dear reader, was the most exciting thing that happened today.
Made a few changes to the garden and carefully examined all the pots in the green house, No broad beans have germinated, and the Black-Eyed Susan seeds I got from an old friend have not come good either But there is more dill and parsley than expected and more mustard than anyone needs.
For a bit of a diversion I cleaned and refilled the various bird feeders, and moved my fig tree from the back garden to the front. That meant I ws able to salute the recycling team when the came by.I suspect they are dealing with more bottles and cans than they’ve seen since christmas. Excitement all round.
I cannot see this lockdown being lifted for a goodly while yet. If the government is not doing testing there is no way of knowing who has the dreaded lurgy, never mind who might be immune. Unless they start testing we shall have to assume that they really do think herd immunity is the way forward. If so they government must take collective responsibility for all the deaths (in hospital, in care homes, in prisons and detention centres, and at home). We must not let them off the hook. These are political decisions and we cannot let them try to blame the ‘experts’ for their own decisions or indecision).
Looking forward to the final episode of The Nest later, but for now it is time to read the next couple of chapters of The Master to my grandsons.)
By not getting up early it seems I missed a call from the corner shop run by grandson No 3 (aged 3), so I hope he hasn’t run out of rice and loo paper next time I get to chat to him. Perhaps he’ll have some ice-cream in too. I am not short of eggs – the chickens are producing three a day most days. There was an exception today. Mother Hen, who is fast and greedy and devours all the ‘treats’ before the others, tends to produce huge eggs but with very thin shells. Today one fo her compadres sat on it and crushed it, so no eggs today. If only she would bimge on the layers pellets she is supposed to.
Now The Nest is over – with happy ending for those fraught by today’s bad tidings. But is it all over? Still plenty of unanswered questions that will justify another series if the the ratings are good enough.
Watching the tale of a surrogacy gone badly wrong reminded me of many such real life stories when MediaWise was providing support and advice to members of Britains first surrogacy organisation. At the time Murdoch’s newspapers, led by Rebecca Wade (Brooks) was running her campaign against them. (Of course that was before her own convenient decision to have a surrogate child just as the ordure was hitting the fan at the time the hacking scandal, and she might have faced jail).
The women I met were some of the kindest and most selfless people you could want to meet. Many of the stories were heartbreaking, and the campaigns against them were cruel and often inaccurate. In one particular case, I had to put up with being libelled by the Press Complaints Commission and their historian simply because I protected the confidentiality of one child. Yet we had proved that the News of the World had made up a crucial element of a sensationally inaccurate story and paid off their informants to avoid exposure.
There are many such stories to tell, one day. But not now.
Hope you enjoyed the Bank Holiday. Goodnight.