If I can cast my mind back far enough, then I might just be able to remember boarding a Virgin flight, turning left courtesy of my airmiles ( bit hard to collect those at the moment when I don’t buy anything ) sinking into my seat and looking forward to a flight of over ten hours. And I really did look forward to them. No emails, no calls, chance to catch up with films I’d missed ( coming back from South Africa in February I watched Jo-Jo Rabbit, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and Blinded by the Light and enjoyed them all in some form or other. But almost the best thing about long haul flying was the amenity bag that was lovingly placed on your seat ( the best thing was the sleep suit they gave you to change into which my wife called a “ bunny suit “ … only you couldn’t really take that off the plane with you when you disembarked because that would have been naff ) but you could take the amenity bag. And I always did.
My wife used to try to make me throw them away when we got to our destination, but why would I have done that? So many goodies inside. Blindfold that you can use for those sleepless nights at home, toothbrush and mini toothpaste perfect for an overnight stay somewhere, flight socks.. ok not the ones that are impossible to get on and pull up and which prevent a thrombosis, but very comfy to lounge around the house in, a pen, always useful and quite a nice one too, ear plugs, also useful I think although I’ve never actually tried them ( bit wary since a radio ear phone once got stuck in my ear and necessitated a visit to casualty ( who denied it was there ) and a specialist when, during denial they pushed it further in , lip balm, wet wipes, maybe a sweet or two and a little moisturizer, packet of tissues, cuddly toy etc. Anyway, I’ve loads of the bags at home and have put them to all sorts of uses. Medicines to take on holiday, chargers, loose change ( in the amenity bag is always an envelope for loose change to donate to a charity only I’ve stuffed what I have in my bag before security so I don’t have to empty my pockets, so I never have any on the plane and have to do the walk of shame past the lovely cabin crew who’ve served me my drinks and my meal and my snacks and made up my bed and helped me when the tv monitor doesn’t work ( why is it always mine that has a fault? ) with nothing to give them but an airy wave and a thank you.
All very interesting I hear you say ( or more probably, bloody boring, has Mel lost the plot here because this really isn’t up to the high standards he has set himself? ) but I am coming to the point. A hotel in London’s West End is about to re-open and they’ve prepared a welcome pack for you. The contents of the aforementioned amenity bag ? No. A nice box of chocolates and half a bottle of complimentary champagne? No. A year’s subscription to The Conservative Party? Definitely no at the moment. And Daniel Anderson one of my loyal readers can toss that back at me when I next launch into a tirade about left wing activists. So, what do they give you? Let me put you out of your misery and allow you to go rushing in to book a romantic weekend. The answer is 1. Two disposable face masks. 2. One washable Face mask. 3. Rubber gloves. And that’s it.
The Lygon Arms in Broadway in the Cotswolds is making itself a very attractive weekend destination as well by assuring potential guests that they will have their temperature taken every time they enter or re-enter the hotel. They don’t say where the thermometer will be placed. How the world has turned on its axis.
But, speaking of left wing activists I thought the irresponsible bunch of demonstrators in the States were bad enough, but what about this mob here pulling down statutes and attacking the police, knocking a policewoman off her horse and ignoring every single rule of social distancing. I gather there were already heated debated about removing the statue anyway, but defacing a statue of Winston Churchill is a bit much. Ok, he did force feed the suffaragettes and didn’t cover himself with glory at the Sidney Street siege ( I worked for my Uncle’s brother at a medical practice during the school holidays in Sidney Street where I got all the medical experience that now enables me to pontificate about The Big V, when it will end and meanwhile how to prevent it happening to you… ) but Winnie did win the war for us, so come on guys. Is this the same mob who demonstrated for climate change back in the Summer I wonder?
Maybe they should be forced to watch “ Fire in Babylon “ It’s the story of the great West Indian cricket team of the 70’s when they did more to break down the boundaries of racism than a hundred protests. Until 1960 the Windies ( as they are known ) had never had a black cricket captain. Frank Worrell changed all that and when he led his team to a valiant defeat in Australia a million white cricket fans lined the streets of Melbourne to pay tribute to the cavalier way they played the game.
Me, I’ve never found anything worth demonstrating about since I last stood outside the South African Embassy to protest about a cricket tour under Apartheid. Do demonstrations actually achieve anything other than the loss of a couple of hours that you will never get back again? Or am I just being old and cynical? It was Paul Simon who wrote and sang about a cause that has long ago since been forgotten and I guess if you hang around long enough, like 94 years old Isabella and Morry, that most causes do eventually get forgotten. For sure, in the current climate the only result that can possible be achieved by mass demonstrations is an upturn in the ‘R’ number whatever that is. Did anybody ever understand it? You can’t catch anything watching “ Fire Over Babylon” And when I played cricket every Sunday I rarely caught anything either.
Anyway, as you know I am not really a political animal and am devoting my time more constructively to finding a final cure for The Big V. My latest effort involves venomous sea snails. Seems that the potent venom of a predatory sea snail ( as opposed to a non venomous ones… not sure I would spot the difference) can transform the treatment of diabetes. And if diabetes, then why not the Big V as well? Mind you we have to find these snails first and I don’t think they are readily available at any French bistro. In case you haven’t lost the will to live they are found in tropical waters around the world. They can be up to six inches long ( I mention that so you can be sure to recognize them ) and they release plumes of venom containing a fast acting insulin. Nearby fish experience a huge fall in blood sugar and are temporarily paralysed ( so if you are looking for a quick cheap supper as well as a cure for all ails this is a great opportunity ) But, you have to be quick and get into the fish before the snail because Old Snaily fires a harpoon like tooth into its fishy prey and then pulls it into its shell to be ingested whole. I’m not sure how many sea snails might be needed to sort out the 60m UK population, but as it’s my idea I think the rest of the world can look after itself.
It’s writing a novel about heart transplants that is giving me all my specialist knowledge as well. Arteries, valves, angina, stress, blood flow, pumps…. I know it all. I mean the heart is just a pump after all although I can’t see a song called “ I Left My Pump In San Francisco “ catching on. Though they said that about The Baked Potato song as well.
And I am going to look after myself today by driving to the Cotswolds ( and back ) as they won’t let me stay in my own home as I mentioned yesterday…. Now that is something to demonstrate about… the rights of second home owners. Maybe have a clapping night for us too in memory of our disenfranchisement. So, as long as I don’t collapse from exhaustion mid drive I will see you all tomorrow. Stay safe.