Sad times

The last few weeks have called for far too many condolence messages.   First was next-door neighbour Julian; then former colleague Paul’s wife Ann; next Michael, companion for some years to our old friend Joan, next Kerstin’s husband Julian, a fellow trustee at Historia, and today the mother of our friend Tony.  I suppose that, as we get older, such events become more depressingly frequent.

It hasn’t helped today that my physio was repeating his rant about how inappropriate the video regime I’d been given was for someone of my great age.  As if I needed reminding.  But then, one benefit of said great age is that we get to have our booster jabs (jags, for those of the Caledonian persuasion) next Tuesday.  

We worry about how seriously people are taking this pandemic: lots of shoppers not wearing masks, despite rising infection rates hereabouts, and far too many people in masks covering their mouths and not their noses.  Martyn’s sister and brother-in-law caught the lurgy at church a week or so ago, someone knowingly symptomatic having attended.  What is the matter with people?  The Rt Hon First lord of the Treasury seems to think we should rely on people to use their common sense.  But then, he is talking of an electorate that voted for Brexit, so expectations are modest.