Covid19

Friday Flash Fiction – Sunrise

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 10 Comments

She stared out at the open hills, a view that would have made this the perfect holiday cottage, but this was no holiday, it was a living hell that she could never have imagined days ago.

A safe house, safe from who or what? Him, the press, everyone she did not want to see? How could she ever face anyone again? They would know about him and assume she was the ‘woman in her thirties’ arrested and then released.

She was almost glad to have been arrested, penance for the crime of being married to him. She had committed a worse crime, a sin against nature, giving birth to his children, his evil genes in their every cell, her sweet innocent children tainted for ever.

After a night in foster care they had been reunited and all of them bundled off to some remote part of Wales. They were still asleep, it was only 6 am. What would she tell them, they had only just started back to school, happy to get back to normal life. She couldn’t even pretend they were back to home schooling with no internet and all their school things locked in the crime scene. Not that their home was where the crime had taken place.

Surely any happily married wife would assume her husband was innocent, some awful mistake. But the police seemed so chillingly certain. She asked the family liaison officer to tell it to her straight as each bit of new evidence rolled in. Now it occurred to her that this was all part of a plan. She was a prisoner here and they were just waiting for her to break, give up trying to pretend she knew nothing.

Nothing was all she knew. One always imagines the wife must have known something, how could you live with a murderer and not know. If she had any suspicions it was that he was seeing someone else, his odd working hours the perfect cover. She had once been the someone else. His first wife left him, she had never met the woman, but did she leave him for more than adultery? What would she be thinking now, relief or guilt because she had discovered some aberration and got out quick?

No, their life had been normal, he wasn’t one of those super dads like her friends were married to; every weekend off to the park, baby strapped on their manly chests, toddler in one hand and the lead of the labradoodle in the other. But that didn’t make him a murderer.

Suicide, was that the only bearable way out? Or a new life on the other side of the world, new names, children told nothing, children told to never tell anyone anything; but murderer’s blood would still be in their veins. She could kill them, like that Greek tragedy, the worst punishment she could think of for the man she now hated. For the first time in her life she knew what true hatred was, a hatred so strong she could contemplate killing her own children. But she would be punishing herself, them, their grandparents… her mind was rambling now, his parents, thank goodness they weren’t alive to see this day, Covid had turned out to be a blessing for them. Slaughtering his children would not be a punishment for him, had he ever cared about his wife or children, how could a man that took an innocent life have any feelings?

There would be a support group somewhere, she would ask about it, support for wives and children of murderers the only people she could ever talk to.

The family liaison officer appeared carrying two mugs, young, probably her first case.

‘We need to talk while the children are still asleep, there’s more I need to tell…’

Before the young woman could finish her sentence there was the sound of pattering feet, strange on the wooden staircase.

‘Mummy, Mummy, are we on holiday, what are we going to do today, is Daddy going to come soon?’

Friday Flash Fiction – Island

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 18 Comments

Cassie stood as near as she could to the bow of the boat without getting tangled in rope and other mysterious equipment, eager to catch a first glimpse of the island. The wind took her breath away, the sea spray stung her face, but she did not want to return to the tiny cabin that smelled of diesel fumes; she had soon discovered that looking straight ahead and gulping fresh air was the only way to avoid sea sickness.

Now as the clouds cleared to reveal blue March skies she wanted to savour every moment, every view as the skipper slowed the boat and curved round to follow the shoreline. Cassie held no illusions that the sun would always shine on this uninhabited Scottish Island, but she hoped the sunny welcome was a good omen. Beside her Sheba roused herself and pointed her nose towards land, the dog would be as glad as the rest of them to step on dry land. Her owner, Sam, had gone to the back of the boat to check on his son, who had spent most of the one hour trip hanging over the back of the boat being sick. They had laughed at her this morning, nibbling on dry toast as they tucked in to a full cooked Scottish breakfast.

As the tiny landing stage came into sight, this day felt like childhood Christmas and the start of school summer holidays rolled into one. No more work, no more lockdown, just freedom. Of course she would never have been doing this if it weren’t for Covid. Cassie had been happy moving to a new town, happy living alone in her new house, coping fine with lockdowns and working from home, but she had realised she did not want to spend the rest of her life working for MPJ, or even another year.

The decision to accept the job as wardens of an island they had never heard of was easier for Sam, he had nothing to lose, no home, no job and little prospect of either in the midst of the crippling pandemic. What he did have was his science degree and a few old contacts he had managed to resurrect. The board of the island project had seen past his lack of CV to the fortitude that had seen him survive life on the streets and pull himself out of homelessness. The challenges he had faced living rough would stand him in good stead to cope with the complete lack of twenty first century amenities.

Cassie had no family to leave behind; her home was now rented out to one of the women in MPJ’s homelessness project, who had been touchingly delighted to be entrusted with Cassie’s two geckos. Cassie hardly qualified as a nature warden, or science expert, but her work skills would enable her to do the admin and communications side of things. They would not be cut off from the rest of the world, there would be regular Zoom meetings with the scientific team heading the project. But the three of them would be alone on the island; they had been tested and retested and declared Covid free. No one had even set foot on the island for over a year so their environment would be pure and safe. They themselves were an experiment of sorts, though other small teams could be sent later on.

Lucas had his mother’s and stepfather’s consent to come with them and he would be useful, but he was free to leave if he got too bored or lonely. He had pointed out that most teenagers had been bored and lonely in lockdown this past year. His mother was glad he would be well away from all her perceived dangers of teenagers roaming in towns and assumed after a few weeks he would be wanting to return to the highland estate home he had run away from.

It was beautiful; rocky shores and steep cliffs had given way to white beaches and the calm waters of the little cove belied the fact that rough weather often made any boat trips impossible. The next delivery of supplies could not be relied on. Sam reappeared to help the skipper tie the boat up. Cassie kept well out of the way, but as she looked up at the rugged island she spotted something against the clear blue sky; one single gentle spiral of smoke from the centre of the island. A welcome domestic sight in any other setting, but how could this be on their secret uninhabited island?

Friday Flash Fiction – 700 – Solo

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 12 Comments

Ellie sipped her tea as she watched breakfast television. Women doing amazing things, how come she hadn’t thought of these ideas in this year of living strangely? Swimming in the Thames every day, wild swimming… cold water was the latest way to keep healthy. If everyone went in the river every day the whole country would be healthy, probably immune to Covid as well. Ellie tried to imagine herself going down to the local river early every morning; alone, bit risky but who on earth would want to join her. Where would she get in, not that swampy reed bed by the bridge, the slipway at the rowing club…

Perhaps it was better to stay in a boat like that English yachtswoman; Vendee Globe non-stop round the world. Ellie didn’t even know the race was on, let alone who was in it, but Pip Hare was and here she was back again and talking to Breakfast Television. She hadn’t actually won, but it was still pretty good. She looked about Ellie’s age and totally normal. A good way to avoid lockdown, or rather it would be like lockdown only with the scenery changing, mainly sea, but Ellie could cope by herself, she had learned that much since Dave had announced his departure this time last year. Turned out to be the best thing that could have happened. In lockdown with Dave, Dave working from home, 24 hours of Dave… what a nightmare. If Ellie could cope by herself in this little flat, she could cope by herself in a state of the art yacht. She had only been on the ferry to the Isle of Wight, but she loved the sea, looking at it, swimming in the summer. The open seas, independence, learning about yourself; she had looked into her inner self, but hadn’t found anything yet; well that on line course ‘Unlocking the True You’ had been rubbish anyway. She should probably start by crossing the Atlantic; it couldn’t be too hard to learn how to sail, it was all satnav and computers on board and everything was made of tungsten. Ellie would have to give up her job… she would love to give up her job. Working from home she had realised that it wasn’t just the people at work she didn’t like, she hated the job as well. Money could be a problem, but she could get some charities to sponsor her…

Her reverie was interrupted by her phone buzzing, message from Ruth.

Do you mind if we give it a miss this morning, it’s bloody freezing out there, I had to melt the bird bath and that east wind will be unbearable on the prom, you’d best stay in.

Ruth was chickening out of their daily walk, their daily exercise with one person from another household? The daily exercise and gossip was all that was keeping Ellie sane. It was alright for Ruth with her garden and birdie friends. Ellie would have to go out all by herself.  Well a bit of a breeze wouldn’t put her off, she could do it. If she wasn’t meeting Ruth at their usual spot she would go on  a different circuit.

Half an hour later Ellie realised her first mistake, she should have walked the other way round, heading east along the promenade the wind took her breath away, the sand stung her cheeks, her eyes were watering, her scarf came unwrapped, her hood would not stay up. The next zig zag path up the cliff looked so far away, who would even notice if she didn’t make it home. Despite hardly being able to see, she could not fail to notice a familiar bright pink hat in the distance. The pink hat was heading towards her, it could only be Ruth and she was walking with someone else. It was galling that they had chosen the right direction to walk, setting a fast pace with the wind behind them. Did Ruth assume Ellie would have stayed at home or on their regular circuit? Ellie was Ruth’s one person from another household, so what was Ruth doing walking with someone else?

Poole sailor Pip Hare delighted with Vendee Globe finish | Swanage and Wareham Voice

Wednesday Wonderings

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 23 Comments

Have you had the jab yet – whoops sorry, those who have a phobia about needles do not like to hear that word and certainly do not like seeing the constant images on the news of smiling pensioners being vaccinated against Covid. But this is the biggest programme of vaccination in The World ever, so there is plenty to talk about; have you had it, why hasn’t my ninety year old aunt had it yet, which one did you have, should I have it…

I had the phone call on Friday to turn up at 4.30pm on Sunday for AstraZeneca; all weekend  the news was about the effectiveness of AstraZenica, would it resist the South African variant etc.   Who do you trust? There is a sizeable group of people, in every country, who do not trust any Covid vaccination, ranging from those who have a genuine medical reason and have been told not to have it, those worrying if animal products or alcohol are used to make it, through to CIA involvement. I don’t know if those with a needle phobia will also be avoiding vaccination.

This is another issue to divide people, as if we hadn’t enough already. It’s not compulsory in the United Kingdom, but the big picture is to get as many people as quickly as possible vaccinated for any chance of life returning to normal and to save as many lives as possible. Anthony Fauci is one of the world’s leading experts on infectious diseases and now chief medical advisor to US President Joe Biden, who no doubt listens to him more carefully than his predecessor. I heard him on the radio saying if people ask which vaccine they should have he tells them to have whatever is offered as soon as possible, because we can get vaccinated again. Other experts say similar things; my lay reading of all this information flooding into our brains is This is just the Start. Most of us have absolutely no idea what goes on in laboratories, except it involves microscopes and tiny glass droppers. Viruses mutate and in the same way that different flu vaccines are offered each winter, Covid vaccination could need to be updated and offered every year.

Meanwhile back in Southbourne-on-Sea, the fact I was called so soon, when I am not vulnerable, is nothing to do with my age, but the rattling rate at which the NHS are getting the vaccines done! Procuring vaccines in the first place involved a huge operation and cooperation between government and private concerns. This was followed by a great deal of organisation and commandeering of buildings from leisure centres to fire stations.  Regular NHS staff have been joined by retired doctors and nurses and army medics, plus an army of volunteers to herd people safely.

But I did not have to go anywhere adventurous or blogworthy, our local GP surgery was doing jabs with seven rooms open. We all lined up safely spaced and after a couple of minutes outside, it was only ten minutes from going in the front door to going out the back door. As there was a bitter easterly wind, the ten minutes included divesting several layers of clothes and scarves to have an arm ready and putting it all back on again. We filed to desks to get a sticky label with name, date of birth and a mystery number, which was stuck to our information sheet. The advantage of having the NHS is we’re all on the computer; all that has to be done is print out millions upon millions of sticky labels… When I arrived at the needle point there was a doctor to jab and a person tapping into the computer. We get a tiny card to bring back for the second jab, no date, but in 10 to 12 weeks. Of course I am bound to forget where I put the card, so remind me it’s in the top drawer left hand side…

Silly Saturday – Covid Community Caring Characters – Interview no. 3

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 13 Comments

Yes I’m proud to be serving my country, proud of the uniform I wear; keeping everyone safe.

Last week, but already it feels like this is what I was destined to do.

No, we always work in pairs for safety, it can be tough out there and I know I can trust Nat with my life. We also need to show our presence.

The most important aspect of our work is to gather intelligence; does something look not quite right? Is that person a local? What is that chap carrying? Why does that woman keep glancing around nervously.

No I don’t think we’re turning into a police state, most people know why we are doing this.

What do we actually do? Every hour, every day is different, we never know what we’re going to face. But that doesn’t stop us taking risks, talking to strangers…

You have yesterday’s recording from my headcam? No, that’s not allowed. Oh, it’s already gone out on the lunchtime news… No, I have nothing to hide, it will be good for the public to see what we face.

Are you out for exercise… and you ran all that way… well there isn’t going to be an Olympics so you don’t need to run twenty six miles every day.

Is this your car Madame, how far have you driven? Yes we do know where you live – ANPR. Did you drive down the spur road? So your details are already on the PNC. I am using plain language – Automatic Number Plate Recognition, Police National Computer. Well we would all like a walk by the sea, but it’s hardly local. Yes it is actually against the law to go to the seaside.

Is this outing for the purpose of essential shopping. No I don’t think you are carrying four heavy bags just for fun. May I look inside the bags. No you don’t know your rights and you’re wrong. Do you consider chocolate and three bottles of wine to be essential? Home schooling does not make them essential.

I would believe you were out for daily exercise if you were walking a little faster. If you have knee trouble why don’t you stay home?

Sitting on a bench does not constitute exercise Sir. CPD? Why does being obsessive mean you have to sit down? Ah, yes of course that’s OCD, so what made up condition is CPD? We didn’t do that on our one day first aid course. Oh, my colleague here says yes we did, but I was asleep. Anyway, please don’t drop dead on my watch ha ha, we’re not allowed to administer mouth to mouth resuscitation because of Covid.

Isn’t it time for our lunch break Nat, let’s just clobber one more.  Good morning Madame, is this your vehicle. Yes I can see you have a disabled badge, but you don’t look very disabled… so is that your ninety nine year old mother in the passenger seat? Shouldn’t she be at home? A last look at the sea before she dies, we’ve heard that excuse before….

What do I love about my job? Working with people, I’m good with people and I love being a Covid Warden.

Friday Flash Fiction – 555 – Remote Learning

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 6 Comments

Vivienne put the phone down with relief, she really needed that cup of tea she was about to make when her daughter phoned. She never liked to phone them, they were always so busy she never knew when was a good time.  As chief administrator at a large hospital her son-in-law Jack was now ridiculously busy. If he worked from home Julia found it impossible to keep everything calm and his OCD under control and if he was at the hospital she complained ( usually to Vivienne ) about being left alone to deal with the home schooling. Vivienne couldn’t understand why her daughter had decided to set up her own business from home. Being made redundant from Billings Department Store, early on in the pandemic was surely convenient for looking after the twins, but Julia had been over optimistic in the autumn when children at last went back to school and still optimistic when they started the new term on January 4th… until Boris closed all schools the next day.

Vivienne had been at home with Julia and James when they were young, so there would not have been the same panic all these modern parents had. Not that she would have been much use at home schooling, she couldn’t get James to do his homework let alone a whole curriculum.

Julia was now apparently wishing she had been a teacher or nurse, a key worker so she could have sent Jason and Jacintha to school. Vivienne smiled to herself; Julia had never shown any inclination to be either when she was doing her A levels. Neither profession ran in the family and Vivienne herself had never had any desire to be a nurse or anything medical, or any job that involved other people’s bodies. She had the utmost admiration for nurses, except for that bitch on the ward when she had James and that other one when she had her operation; there was one on every shift probably, but most of them were as wonderful as portrayed on the news and those hospital documentaries.

Julia’s mother-in-law was a nurse and had volunteered  to come out of retirement to do vaccinations. Of course she was much younger than Vivienne, having had Jack at some ridiculously young age. Being busy vaccinating didn’t stop her helping the twins with their home schooling via Facetime and writing them stories. She lived nearby so was missing being a hands on granny. Julia said that was the only good thing to come out of lockdown, they had a break from her, though she never said that to Jack. Jack’s mother, in her forty eight hour day, had also set up a zoom group and Facebook page for lonely grandparents, which had featured on the local news.

Vivienne sighed as she took her empty cup to the kitchen and looked out at the damp, dreary January garden; she felt so useless. Julia and James said she didn’t need to do anything except stay home and not catch Covid, or climb on stools and fall off and break bones. But that bloke volunteering at the food bank on the news looked older than her, how did these people do it? Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing, her surgery were doing vaccinations, could she come in tomorrow? She wasn’t doing anything else, that was for sure, but she was rather miffed, she wasn’t old or vulnerable, why were they calling her? They should be doing the police and shop workers next…

If you want a glimpse into Julia’s life back in May, link in here.

Friday Flash Fiction – Home Schooling | Times and Tides of a Beachwriter (wordpress.com)https://tidalscribe.wordpress.com/2020/05/22/friday-flash-fiction-home-schooling/

Friday Flash Fiction – Click and Collect

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 21 Comments

I logged in on my dashboard computer – Friday 15th January 2040. I was getting a new work experience person today. It didn’t matter what day of the week they started, we worked seven days a week and every day was the same, though today was going to be rather different. Their name was Hope, sixteen years old, no idea if they would be a boy, girl or other, I would have to wait and see how or if they self identified. Dressed in biohaz suits it was difficult to tell, so it didn’t much matter. What sort of name was Hope; parents must have been optimistic, must have been optimistic in the first place to have a baby in 2024.

‘Good morning Hope, welcome to the team, what the hell made you want to try this job?’

‘To get away from home, get outside.’

‘They all say that, outside’s not all it’s cracked up to be, every day’s much the same, but I have to tell you we have an NR7 to deal with first today, did they tell you about that in your on line induction?’

‘Nope, don’t think so, wasn’t really listening…’

‘I thought not, well you can back out now, it might not be very nice.’

‘No way, I’d have to go to the back of the jobs queue.’

‘NR7 means No Response for seven days, weekly food parcel still on front path and housebot has set off the alarm – no signs of life detected. We have to go in, it’s almost certain resident is dead, probably of old age.’

‘Whaat…’ came the gruff exclamation through their mask voice box.

‘I’ve seen a few cases. Rich relatives paid or bribed for them to be exempt from the euthanasia programme, unkindest thing they could have done, but I guess years ago they thought this would all be over and Granny would come round for tea again.’

‘Why would you want your Granny to come round, when you could see her on Omegazoom?’

‘So she could play with her grandchildren… oh never mind, let’s get on with this. According to our records all her family predeceased her, otherwise they would have notified us that she was not responding.’

Hope gazed out of the window of my solar powered vehicle as we turned into the ‘Granny’s’ street.

‘I’ve never been down a street before, we live in a tower block, those gardens look so pretty, how do they get them all the same?’

‘Gardenbots, programmed to create the sort of garden the average person wants to look out on. Ah, here we are, Click and Collect food box still out on the front path, regulation two metres from the front door. Only time residents are allowed out; to click on the box, collect it and take it indoors, but obviously you know all that.’

‘Yes, I always volunteer to go out in the corridor and collect ours.’

‘NR7 is the only time we are allowed to enter a private home, I had to sign out the entry device, let’s hope it works.’

I pointed and pressed the button and it showed entry code overridden. I pushed at the front door, but it didn’t give easily; we soon saw why and I thought my other half had a lot of pot plants. It was like a jungle, not that I have ever seen a jungle. Through the leaves emerged a four foot angular housebot. It was no use asking it what had happened, one of the outdated models that didn’t speak, programmed only for house maintenance, not companionship. It didn’t need to speak, I knew at this very moment it would be signalling back to base, alien human life detected. I quickly tapped my wrist phone to register with base my arrival here.

‘Okay Hope, I’ll go first into each room, starting with the front room.’

Obviously the housebot was programmed to stay out of the little old fashioned sitting room; in the corner was the skeleton of a tree, beneath it a carpet of dead pine needles and under that thick dusty layer could just be discerned some grey shapes that had once been Christmas parcels.

Hope pointed in horror as if this might be the body we were looking for.

‘What is thaat?’

‘It was once a Christmas Tree.’

‘A what?’

‘Before your time, a relic from the last Christmas of 2020.’

I felt a lump in my throat. I remembered that last Christmas. We never did go round to Granny’s to have a  ‘proper Christmas when things are better’ – it seems I was not the only child who didn’t get Granny’s presents that year.

We moved through the kitchen, all neat and tidy; the housebot would have cleared away any clues as to when the resident had last eaten.  Out in a little conservatory was another housebot free area, the plants had run riot and on a table covered in cobwebs, a closer inspection revealed a half built Lego set, like I used to play with. But the smiling faces of the Lego people could not be seen under the thick coat of dust.

‘Wouldn’t she have been a bit old to be playing with Lego?’

‘I imagine that was the last time her grandchildren came round, she left the Lego out ready for them to play with next time, but next time never came.’

But Hope wasn’t listening, they had wrenched open the filthy patio door to gaze in wonder at the back garden and it was a wonderful display of colour to cheer us up. The rich relatives must have paid out an endowment long ago for a personal gardenbot.

Reluctantly I lead the way upstairs, the worst part of our job was still to come. I pushed open the bedroom door and there she was, lying tucked up in bed, the blank Omegazoom screen at an easy to see angle beside her. I wondered when was the last time she had spoken to anyone on the screen.

‘Well Hope, you should get your parents to check in to the home bidding, there will be a house and garden available in a week or so.’

‘Do you think we stand a chance, a real garden I could go out into?’

‘Tell them to get in quick before everyone else hears about it.’

Christmas Real Time Tales – part two – Tier Four

~ tidalscribe.com ~ Leave a comment

Doris was agog with curiosity. Who were the two big chaps that turned up next door on Christmas morning, just when Doris happened to be looking out of her front window… and that big shaggy dog? Cassie had said a friend from work was coming for Christmas Dinner and might bring his teenage son… Her young neighbour had no need to ring or knock to check Doris was okay as she knew her cousin was staying, but she could ring and thank Cassie for the chocolates…

‘Hello Cassie, did you have a nice Christmas? Thanks so much for the chocolates, Cousin Ruth’s favourites… yes I’m so glad she came, we have had a laugh, just like when she used to come and stay in the holidays when we were children… That’s what my nephew said, makes sense; Ruth’s little flat was perfect till we went into lockdown, she was always out and about, but this year it’s been like a prison… Yes she likes the back bedroom, looking out onto the garden and hearing the blackbirds… No we’re fine thanks, Ruth’s more tech savvy than me and my nephew’s doing our on line shopping … well I do wonder what on earth he thinks we like to eat, but now we’re in Tier 4 it’s so scary and he’s forbidden us to go to the shops.

Yes we did, later in the day when they were awake in Los Angeles. Ruth’s got an eye pad or whatever you call those things you open up, I daren’t touch the thing, but she got us on Facetime, so amazing, mind you it is fifty years since they landed on the moon and we thought we would be living on the moon by now. Thank goodness we’re not, otherwise my son would probably be there instead of the USA… but the children have grown, even since I saw them in the summer.

So what did you have for your dinner… pork…  oh, so he wasn’t a little lad then… did you have enough food, a vegetarian, oh dear, no of course that’s quite common these days, but a bit of a problem if you’re having roast pork. He did like the geckos then…  but the geckos didn’t like them… not surprised they were nervous having two big blokes and a dog clumping round your little front room and bumping into the glass; ‘vibrating vivarium’ ahh, making fun of you poor little reptiles…

Where do they live … Scotland, oh goodness, it’s a wonder Nicola Sturgeon let him out and she probably won’t let him back in… you mean really ran away, what about his mother? …no I suppose you couldn’t really pry, but what an interesting life you lead. What are you doing today?… A bicycle ride, are you allowed, I get so muddled up when we keep changing Tiers, not that Ruth and I are likely to go out on our bikes, perhaps I should get one of those electric ones. You can go out for exercise and meet only one person, I suppose your ‘friend’ will be busy with his son…

Photo by Miri on Pexels.com

Advent Calendar – Christmas Eve 2020

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 9 Comments

On Christmas Eve a return to Christmas Carols at Kings. A clip of Oh Come All Ye Faithful, from this evening’s Covid Careful pared down service, with just the boys and the King’s singers and no congregation. I watched it before I went to cook dinner and it did feel rather muted; a reminder that our great churches should be filled with people. So the second clip is the rousing Hark The Herald Angles Sing from more normal times.

BBC Two – Carols from King’s, 2020, O Come All Ye Faithfulhttps://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p0923ffl

King’s College Cambridge 2011 #17 Hark the Herald Angels Sing – YouTubehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_iLXNSIaYc

Happy Christmas

from Tidalscribe

Advent Calendar – Monday Twenty First of December

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 8 Comments

Today’s window opens into Vivienne’s living room, where we can eavesdrop as she chats on the phone.  Restricted lives leave those living alone searching for nuggets of news in their now restricted lives. Tit bits gleaned from family and friends, polished and enhanced until they bear little resemblance to the original.

Tier 4, I didn’t even know there was a Tier 4 till yesterday and all that food. The experts have been saying this for weeks and Boris waits till yesterday… Julia had already had a big shop delivered here, no I paid for half of it, which considering there are four of them… salmon en what, I thought she was vegetarian… oh piscetarian. Well I would be happy with that, wish I was coming to yours. No luckily James is going to take it for his homeless lot … I mean I would be quite happy to go to MPJ and help with the cooking, but of course I am not allowed… yes, still Tier 2, looks like it will be lunch at Sonia’s…. I know, I was trying to avoid being in her bubble, but I can hardly pretend I have other plans when we all know we are all staying at home…

That chap across the road, no mask? Did the bus driver say anything… I got on the bus the other day and forgot about the screen, there was one tiny hole to put your hand in and swipe your bus pass… the whole class? I know, Julia said Jacintha’s is the only class that hasn’t had to isolate.

Nine pounds, did she have to have stiches… so nobody can go round, how many great nieces is that now? goodness… No, they’re still just friends… what are the chances of James marrying again, let alone finding a wife young enough to have babies… They won’t have any more, Julia said he’s had the snip, two children quite enough.

Next door-but-one you mean, well that was a bit of drama, how many police cars? There’s going to be more of that with people shut indoors. There are some advantages to living alone. No, James won’t even come indoors now, says it’s not safe for me when he’s been mixing with… yes they are very careful, I have been sewing more masks for them.

Did you, how is she? I’m not surprised, shut indoors with him, she must be going round the bend, bit of a come down hey, three cruises a year and now her greatest excitement is going to the CoOp.  That couple down the road, I don’t think they have been out at all since March, what with him and his lungs and heart and her with her, not sure what, but I was walking by and she had left a bunch of Xmas cards on the garden wall with a note, asking someone to post them, so that was my Brownie good deed for the day. So do I ..  to do my duty to God and The Queen and help other people every day…  yes, Jacintha had just joined when Covid struck.

No, at least we’re not trying to get to France…  not with all this food I’ve got… we might not get lettuces, no great loss.

Which planets? What the actual Bethlehem star, how do they know? I’m not going to see it from my garden, it’s just started pouring with rain…    Yes you too.