Isolation Day 70

According to Susie Dent, that wonderful wordsmith on Countdown, a ‘mumpsimus‘ (16th century) is someone who refuses to budge/insists that they are right, despite clear evidence that they are wrong. Plural: ‘mumpsimuses‘.

Is it just me, or do you recognise a mumpsimus or two in our midst? And more worryingly, those mumpsimuses, despite being challenged over and over again, look like they are going to get away with it and we’ll all roll over and say, ‘Oh, alright then, as you were.’ Yikes!! British politics is often sleazy, but this takes the biscuit, in my view. It’s going to be interesting, the next few days…..

In the meantime, when I wasn’t being distracted by the Cummings/Johnson story, I was generally having a good day. John, too, has had a reasonable day, despite being on the end of strong, but kind, words telling him he must wear his oxygen mask at all times. Oxygen has been prescribed and it is not optional.

John is feeling a little bit better, and he decided to do some strengthening exercises. The oxygen mask was in the way, so he took it off, and then forgot to put it back on again. The fact that he was keen to improve his muscle tone and felt well enough to forget his oxygen suggests he is on the mend. Just waiting for some blood test results and a pronouncement as to when he can come home, and we’ll be able to start getting on with life again – in a lock down sort of way.

However, the ol’ man’s eyes are sore, not having been able to take his specialist serum into hospital with him when he was whisked away, so Paul offered to take some in to help improve them. Of course, Paul had to come here didn’t he, to collect the eye drops? What a shame that I was forced to spend ten minutes chatting to him in the garden when he called in………one happy me.

This afternoon was one of those that stuttered. I got myself all prepared to clean down some of the garden chairs and had walked my Mum out into a shady spot so she could keep me company, when the phone rang. It was John, up for a chat. Lovely. The chairs can wait.

John cut the call short though, as he had a visit from a medic. “Phone me back.” I said. Meanwhile, Mum was fidgeting. Too cold in the shade. So, I walked her over to a chair in the sunshine. John phoned again, and we settled in for a nice, long chat. Mum was fidgety. The sun was too bright. I ran in to get her a hat. Carried on chatting. Mum was fidgety again; the sun was too on her neck. Hang on. I’ll get the parasol. Carried on chatting some more. John wondered what the temperature outside was, so I ran in again to look at our inside/outside thermometer. Meanwhile, Mum had managed to manoeuvre her chair round all by herself to avoid the breeze…….

At the end of the phone call, I heard another phone ringing. I looked at both the phones I’d got – nope, not one of them. Must be the neighbours. Mum was keen to go inside. No worries, I’ll just run in and take the phones and crockery in and come back to get you. That phone was ringing again, somewhere. I ran in. Oh!! There was a stranger at the door. The penny dropped. It was my front doorbell that had been ringing, and the Tesco delivery had arrived. Poor man was just about to load the groceries back into the van…….

So, it was ‘shopping washing’ and then cooking the evening meal. The garden chair cleaning? Maybe tomorrow….

For the record though – corona virus infections, as of yesterday at 5 o’clock, were: 1,625. Deaths in hospitals: 76. Deaths in all settings 121. Deaths according to the NHS figures: 19; with 56 being the final figure for the day before.

I have no idea what to make of any of it any more though, and the more I listen to Boris and his mate, the more like Animal Farm it seems, and I am Horse.

Peace be with you all.