The dressings on my thumb are gradually reducing in bulk, and the nurse I saw on Friday thinks this may be the last one I need. I’ll see her colleague in a few days’ time. I can now get a gardening glove on, so have been enjoying occasional sunny spells in the garden. The last of the tomatoes are harvested, and the stems bagged up ready to take to the tip. The rather exuberant rudbeckias are staked and tied back, so we can use the path up the garden again. In the mini greenhouse the penstemon cuttings are looking good, and the cuttings from Tony’s fuchsia magellanica alba are putting up some new leaves. Must take better care of them this time.
After one wasted journey, I finally have my replacement iPad, which the chap in the shop helpfully set up for me. Hope it lasts longer than its predecessor. It has needed three trips to town (one of them a waste of time, fuel, money and effort) and three parking fees. There is no fuel to be had, so with fewer than a hundred miles left in the tank, we’ve put my car away for the moment: Martyn still has a good half tank in his. We just hope Sainsbury’s have access to supplies for their delivery vans! There is no fuel shortage, but the combination of panic buying and the driver shortage is really messing things up. Sure, the pandemic has stopped the flow of new drivers through training and testing, but much of the blame lies with Brexit, the lunacy of which shows in more and more ways. It’ll be interesting to see how many EU national HGV drivers want to come back for three months. The Dutch driver interviewed by the BBC seems likely to be representative: ‘if they think I’m going back to dig them out of the shit they made for themselves, they can forget it’. I’m glad I’m old.
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