I must be the least informed person in the world when it comes to the Big V and I am thinking that the purpose of my daily blog ( well, there must be a purpose mustn’t there or else I might as well do crosswords or jigsaws or sudoku or play solitaire ? ) is to share my ignorance with you, my loyal readers.
In order to sustain my level of not knowing what the hell is going on in the world ( and I am reliably told by the occasional Moaning Minnie or Max ) that it is Hell out there, I have to work really hard. This involves looking at the back pages of the paper first and last and blanking out the sixty seconds of news on Chris Evans Breakfast Show or turning off the tv if the news is on when I enter the room or fast forwarding The Archers that I’ve recorded to flash past the minute of news that precedes it. Whew, having said all that I’ve just realized how really hard I am having to work to stay blissfully ignorant ; but sometimes some annoying bits of in formation seep into the happy bubble I have built around myself.
For instance, I could not help but see on the front page of today’s ‘Times ‘ a photo of an empty Parliament. Well, virtually empty. I think it was for Prime Minister’s Question Time, but as we don’t seem to have a PM at the moment maybe they should have postponed that like the football season ( by the way just as I was about to suspend my Sky Sports subscription I hear that the Bundesliege ( the German equivalent of the Premier League for my non sporting readers…. I considered explaining what the Premier League is but if you don’t know that by now then they really would be no point ) is re-starting mid-May so it looks like there will be something to watch after all. Music to the ears of my wife, I am sure.
Anyway, the photo on the front cover of The Times. There were about 4 MP’s pictured (have they all been furloughed by their constituents ? ) and one of them was our old pal Jeremy Corbyn. Jezza was sitting about three times the proscribed social distance from anybody else. I reckon that was because nobody wanted to be anywhere near him. Some things don’t change.
Then I also saw the front cover of Times 2. For those of you who read the tabloids or live abroad that’s the sort of cultural bit of the paper. Theatre and tv reviews and previews, new music releases, the odd celeb interview, what the well-dressed blogger is wearing during the Big V etc. But, blow me down, all over the cover and inside for two pages too ,was loads of information about where we can or can’t expect to find The Big V. You already know ( as do I because of my newspaper suit invention ) that the Big V doesn’t like newsprint, Bit like me in that respect. Seems that it also doesn’t like dogs ( again a bit like me except for Wanda. Amazing what The Big V and I have got in common ) It doesn’t settle in your hair and generally speaking it seems plastic shopping bags are ok too. So, you may be wondering what the point of the article was and to be honest so am I. The Times ould have used the space to review films that aren’t coming to the cinema near you or plays where the theatre has already sent me an email saying they aren’t going to be performed. I said talking about cutting my toe nails was too much information but I think the same has to be said about that article today. In fact there’s always just too much information about The Big V, yet and I have to share this with you, how many pages of newsprint you read, however many hours you sit in front of the tv watching rolling news ( and it’s not so much rolling as crawling nowadays ) you will still end up knowing as little about the situation as do I And trust me on this ( you have to because I am a lawyer ) you will never get back that time you waste doing just that. Take up crocheting. It’s more constructive. How dare The Times invade my safe space!
And yet, once again there is some good stuff tucked away in the news. Seems South Africa have imposed an even more stringent shut down than many other countries ( this bit is serious…. those poor people in the Townships, please spare them a thought particularly those of you who have visited that beautiful country and seen how they live. ) The South African restrictions stop you going out to buy alcohol. So the police have become even more entrepreneurial than usual ( have you ever been stopped by a South African traffic cop and given an instant fine which usually has to be paid in cash? ) and are re-selling the alcohol they confiscate from those who break the shut-down rules and buy booze. So, I suppose the drink does in the end land up in the hands ( or mouths ) of those who need it most, but there are just a few middle-men making a bob or two. Meanwhile amongst those arrested have been over 70 policeman and their Minister for Communication and Information, who had told everybody about the lock-down has been fined for ignoring it together with loads of other Ministers. As my friend Daphne always says ‘ TIA “ This is Africa.
On the subject of lockdown and never one to miss an opportunity to plug a song ( even if it’s just to annoy Isabella who confirmed to me over the garden fence yesterday that she had never heard of ‘T’Pau “) I wanted to mention “ Georgia on my Mind “ Lovely song for sure, but I mention it because I do have Georgia on my mind as that particular State in the USA has decided it knows something that Trump doesn’t ( well, I guess we can say that for about 99.99% of the population of the world ,including my one-year-old granddaughter ) and has announced that it’s lock-down is officially ended. Cue another fanfare and then perhaps the opening of book-stores, cinemas, theatres, maybe even dentists and opticians or restaurants and surely Dunkin’ Donuts and KFC. Not a bit of it, Georgia has first allowed nail parlours and gyms to recommence their operations. I told you that if I had written these blogs as a novel readers would have said that the plots were too far- fetched.
Like the guy who dug up his garden this week and found an entire car that had been buried there about fifty years ago as some kind of Time-Capsule. Now, why would you bury an entire car unless you had killed someone in it or with it? We’ve got a few dead pets at the bottom of our garden, but that’s about it. We buried our first cat whilst the kids ( who were very small at the time ) were asleep. The next day the youngest wanted us to dig it up and then when we politely declined ( it had been the victim of a hit and run driver ) he looked at its grave every day and swore that he could see its whiskers growing up through the soil. We’d only agreed to look after it because somebody I was working with at the time was going to live abroad and the alternative was for it to be put down. For years I continued to add the dead cat’s name to the Xmas cards we sent her and then she, herself was killed in a motor-bike accident and must have discovered when she met up with her cat in the Great Beyond that we’d been fooling her all that time. I still hear ghostly noises in my garden at night, security lights going on and off and although I try to convince myself that it’s foxes, on reflection, it’s more likely the cat and its owner come back to haunt us.
On the subject of death ( bet, you wondered when I’d finally get round to that and it’s taken me to Day 32 ) I saw my Rabbi this morning on zoom during the morning service. He’s the poor bloke who seems to be officiating at a couple of funerals a day. I did suggest to him that as and when he left our community ( and I really hope he doesn’t as he and his wife have held us together as a community during this time of crisis) he might want to take up a post in Gravesend or Bury to which he replied that if he went to the latter he would buy a new tweed suit as it would then be Bury-on- Tweed . For those of you who aren’t British there is a place here called Berwick-on-Tweed ( when you need to explain a joke it tends to pall a little and maybe that one was pretty pall to start with. Am resisting a pall-bearer joke … minus a billion, yes, Sam ? )
However, he did also mention that his wife, Ilana was doing a challah baking lesson this afternoon and then giving a talk on the history of challas tonight. The challah is a plaited ,slightly sweet loaf of bread made with eggs, Jews eat on Friday nights and the Sabbath (there is always one on the table in “ Friday Night Dinner “ though they never seem to eat it. I like mine with sesame seeds on top though you can get them with poppy-seeds too or with raisins or just as plain. I said to Rabbi Daniel that in these difficult times we have to take our crumbs of comfort wherever we can find them .
Our elder son is picking us up some challahs in Edgware this morning and delivering them so we will get to see him and little Wanda ( the dog ) If you’ve been reading these blogs from the start then you will know all about her and also know that I quite like her because she is an honorary cat. I asked him to get me some Chocolate Digestive Biscuits and pot noodles from the shop opposite the bakery ( he’s done click and collect there by the way in case you were worried ) but he didn’t seem willing to risk his life to accommodate my needs. Mind you got yet another call from Social Services yesterday saying that they had been told I was vulnerable and was there anything they could do. I think they may have put down the phone when I mentioned getting me biscuits and noodles.
Lots left to cover tomorrow you will be pleased to know. In anticipation look up the words of that curious hit song “ Sunscreen “ That’s your homework with which I leave you. Stay safe and if we are spared wlll see you all tomorrow