Tag Archives: Dominic Cummings

I Fell Asleep…

Sorry about missing last night. Around 10.30. knowing it was getting l;ate, I fell asleep in front of the TV and didn’t wake up until 12.30. I nearly did the same again tonight, but woke around 11.20.

I seem to be falling into bad habits.

We had our delivery from ASDA tonight. Once again I ordered celeriac and once again they failed to deliver. I’m beginning to get quite annoyed about this. I feel that celeriac is becoming an symbol of my separation from 21st century life. I mean, if you haven’t got any, how difficult can it be to strike it off the system? And if you have got some, why can’t I have it? It’s taking on an almost mythical status, as if Dan Brown is going to write a book about it, or as if ASDA are holding it back to feed their unicorns.

Celeriac and Unicorns – watch out for it in a bookshop near you next Christmas.

Meanwhile, it’s that time of year again. The time when the Poetry Society writes to me to tell me it’s time to submit my poems to the National Poetry Competition. As usual I will send two off – one costing £7 and the other free, because members of the Poetry Society get a free second poem. I never expect to win, but I do allow myself to dream about the life-changing consequences of being short-listed – the job offers, the paparazzi and the inevitable procession of invitations onto TV reality shows.

When the time comes I will accept invitations to do celebrity quiz shows and possibly the occasional documentary, but am going to avoid ones that include the risk of ridicule or eating the less attractive bits of Australian mammals.

I see they are filming I’m a Celebrity in Wales this year, which is likely to make it a very different sort of show, as kangaroo testicles are removed from the menu and the chances of young female participants showering in bikinis recede in direct proportion to the chances of hypothermia.

Having said that, I see that the show is at risk due to the new travel restrictions on travel to Wales.

Oh dear. It’s just past midnight – I seem to have missed posting for a second day.

I’m going to go to bed now and mull over the irony of police enforcing a travel ban, despite their reticence to take action over our burglary at the shop last year, or the general reluctance to take action over politicians breaking lockdown rules. Of course, when you read up on Dominic Cummings and his latest problem, you are left in no doubt that there is a two tier system in this country.

 

 

 

Musings

If a picture truly is worth a thousand words, I have just loaded 12,000 words from my photos to this post. The theme of my 12,000 words is, initially, that although WordPress can, it seems, develop a new improved editor, they cannot work out a system to allow me to access photos from old posts. They charge me for unlimited photo storage every year but I note, on an old post, that some photos have disappeared. I also note that if I want to access photos from old posts it gets progressively more difficult as I get back beyond a couple of weeks. Once past that the system starts to grind and lock up and flick back to newer photos. At that point it is easier to give up or to search out old posts and either link to them or recopy the photos. That is what I did with the last post.

It would have been a much more exciting post if I had been able to simply access the photos by scrolling down the media file.

If I could access old photos easily, this post would be more interesting too. However, due to the clunky and ineffective scrolling system I can only really access photos from the last couple of weeks. They are nice enough photos but they lack a bit of variety, you have seen them all recently, and they are not necessarily my better flower photos.

If I were developing a proper 12,000 word piece, I would then move on to muse on the mutability of life and how we change and improvement are not the same things. Life is simply a jerk progression, like the WP photo storage, where we jerk from one imperfection to the next. The final display is, like our lives, a poor reflection of the quality of material available, which has been severely limited by circumstances beyond our control. I think that makes sense, though it may just be self-absorbed twaddle. If that’s the case let’s agree to call it “deep”. That’s a useful neutral word to cover many eventualities.

 

There are several things I could move on to discuss as an ending. Cooking with arthritis is a current topic of interest. As a condition, not as an ingredient. Despite the new medication my fingers are actually getting worse. More fingers are being affected and more joints within those fingers are being affected. The index finger on my right hand now has painful swellings in all three joints and I could probably find hand modelling work as something out of Lord of the Rings or for those appalling Versus Arthritis adverts we now have on TV.

It seems to me that the name Versus Arthritis was developed by an idiot and approved, probably at great cost, by a board of idiots. Same goes for the TV adverts they run. In fact, despite the advertising I have spent the last two years not seeking help from them because the adverts are so bad. Today is the first time I’ve actually been on their site, and though some of the stuff appears useful, I may not rush back.

I was amused to see that one of the organisations that merged to form Versus Arthritis was formed in 1947 as the British Rheumatic Association (BRA). Even in 1947 I’m sure bra was a well known term for women’s underwear. Assuming that the organisation wasn’t formed by 14-year-old boys, it looks like the pitiful naming tradition has continued over the years.

Cooking with arthritis used to mean that my fingers ached after kneading bread. Now it means I can’t grip a vegetable peeler properly, can’t (on bad days) cut through veg single-handed and can’t fetch and carry without using both hands, as my grip has gone.

Tonight’s tea is roasted veg with pasties, Yorkshire puddings and gravy. I may be arthritic, and dreading the new improved editor but I’m not malnourished.

Note on the Dominic Cummings cut-out I mentioned a few days back (though I can’t actually find the reference, so I may just have thought I mentioned it). It was taken down but my sister sent me a links after seeing something on Twitter. Here is a link if you want it. I find it amusing, even if the story is now dead and brushed under the carpet.

And at just over 700 words, I think there is just time to sign off, and take my tea, carefully, from the oven.

Caesar’s Wife and the Special Advisor

Sorry, I’m being political and I’m writing about Dominic Cummings today. He is a special advisor to the Prime Minister and was recently accused of breaking the lockdown guidance. People have resigned, or been forced to resign, over this several times and in several countries. Some useful scientists have been discarded as a result, at a time when we need scientists. Now Dominic Cummings has been accused of breaking the rules. He is not a scientist and, to my mind, is not useful. Political advisors fill the same niche in politics as catfish do in the world’s rivers – they lurk in murky places and feed from the bottom.

If he was sacked tomorrow I really don’t think the world would notice.

However, Boris Johnson won’t sack him. He has, according to Boris, ‘acted responsibly, legally and with integrity’.

First, may I say that Boris, with his expensive classical education, should be the first to know that Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion. It is not good enough for someone in that position to be squeaky clean: they must give absolutely no room for suspicion.

And when they are tackled by the press they should remember, that, as the Bible tells usA soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger. A soft answer does not seem to be the favoured response of either Mr Cummings or the Tory Party. Their responses to the press are verging on arrogant.

As for ‘responsibly, legally and with integrity’, I don’t know the exact definition of what was legal. Discussing things like this is what keeps the legal profession in wigs and holiday homes. The ex-Chief Constable of Durham seems to believe there was a crime.(that is the same link as the previous one).

Responsible? I’m not sure that travelling the length of the country with a child and an infected person in the car to stay with family is responsible.

Integrity? I’ll let you make your own mind up.

All over the country people are making sacrifices. Even some politicians are making sacrifices. Sadly, it seems that some of them aren’t.

I photographed the crow in the picture 18 times before I got that shot, which makes the title of that shot corvid19.

I’ve been waiting to use that joke for months…