So, they (meaning the government) expects schools to start re-opening at the beginning of June. The unions are opposed, as you would expect. I can't ever imagine unions agreeing with anything a Conservative government wanted to do. But is it safe for them to do so? Well, if other countries are gradually easing their lockdown restrictions, why not here? The number of cases of infection from the coronavirus are decreasing, even the total of deaths is going down, although even then it's a dreadfully high number. But we can't remain in lockdown forever, not necessarily because of the economic consequences, but for the effect it's having on people's mental health and children in particular should be able to be back at school with their friends and getting on with their educations. there will be safety issues to sort out, and getting children of primary school age to adhere to social distancing is not going to be easy, or. for that matter, expecting teaching staff to adhere to the regulations is going to be just as difficult, but it can be done, probably by having smaller class sizes and staggering such things as meal times as well as when they go out to play during their breaks.
(Tuesday) Another pleasant, sunny day. But I'm still stuck in the flat in lockdown. I'm really missing my Camphill drama workshop guys. As it's Tuesday, I would have been there at around 8.45, ready for things to start at nine with everyone checking in. I'm wondering how they are managing. For some it will be quite difficult, particularly those with some form of autism, because their routines will be totally changed.
I haven't done any writing for a while. Now I have all my bits of writing sorted into plastic wallets, which is all handwritten in pencil, which is how I prefer to write as it means I can soon erase anything with a rubber. If it's in ink, I find it's far too 'fixed.' I will have to sort it all into it's correct order and then do more transcribing into word processing. The opening of the 'core' story was going well until I decided it should go in a different direction, which I think I have no solved and I just need to give it a bit more thought before I commit pencil to paper. These things often happen, you start a bit of writing and then you can decide it's not going as you anticipated and have to sort of unpick what you'd already written and start off in a different direction. I often think it's a bit like knitting. Not that I've ever done any knitting, but my mother was a great knitter and would often undo what she'd done and start over again, probably changing the pattern as she did so. Interesting that so many words to do with writing and printing are connected with fabric; tie up the loose ends, to weave a story etc. In fact the work text is related to textile. Then there's spin a tale or story. I suppose a line of handwritten or printed text does resemble fabric that's been woven.
I had forgotten that on 18th May it was the 14th anniversary of my first heart attack. I think lockdown and all that's attached to the coronavirus pandemic had totally wiped the memory from my mind. I'm feeling fine, but I am still waiting to have an appointment at Milton Keynes hospital after I had a blood test at my doctor's surgery and the fact that it showed something connected to my liver which needed checking. I realise that the pandemic has swamped the N.H.S. and what the conditions are at the hospital, for example, social distancing and the staffing, but this test still needs arranging.
Wednesday. I've already been out twice with Alfie. I was up early as usual. Alfie keep staring at me, so I decided that it was no use taking him out at gone 7.30, so I sorted myself out and we were out of the door by around 6.35. It's such a warm morning that I walked around Oldbrook Green. Quite a few people jogging or exercising in some other manner. Then, having had something to eat for breakfast, a bowl of fruit and fibre, Sainsbury's own-brand instead of Kellogg's, which is in where near as good, plus a mug of tea (who on earth has cups and saucers these days?) and after some time it seemed he really needed a second walk at around 8.30. It's no use with him staring at me like he does. It's hot at the moment, and even with the flat windows open, far too much for Alfie and he keeps on finding it hard to keep cool, laying on the floor in front of the sofa and, as I write this, I couldn't immediately find him and he's laying on the floor the other end of the sofa, just out of my sight.
(Tuesday) Another pleasant, sunny day. But I'm still stuck in the flat in lockdown. I'm really missing my Camphill drama workshop guys. As it's Tuesday, I would have been there at around 8.45, ready for things to start at nine with everyone checking in. I'm wondering how they are managing. For some it will be quite difficult, particularly those with some form of autism, because their routines will be totally changed.
I haven't done any writing for a while. Now I have all my bits of writing sorted into plastic wallets, which is all handwritten in pencil, which is how I prefer to write as it means I can soon erase anything with a rubber. If it's in ink, I find it's far too 'fixed.' I will have to sort it all into it's correct order and then do more transcribing into word processing. The opening of the 'core' story was going well until I decided it should go in a different direction, which I think I have no solved and I just need to give it a bit more thought before I commit pencil to paper. These things often happen, you start a bit of writing and then you can decide it's not going as you anticipated and have to sort of unpick what you'd already written and start off in a different direction. I often think it's a bit like knitting. Not that I've ever done any knitting, but my mother was a great knitter and would often undo what she'd done and start over again, probably changing the pattern as she did so. Interesting that so many words to do with writing and printing are connected with fabric; tie up the loose ends, to weave a story etc. In fact the work text is related to textile. Then there's spin a tale or story. I suppose a line of handwritten or printed text does resemble fabric that's been woven.
I had forgotten that on 18th May it was the 14th anniversary of my first heart attack. I think lockdown and all that's attached to the coronavirus pandemic had totally wiped the memory from my mind. I'm feeling fine, but I am still waiting to have an appointment at Milton Keynes hospital after I had a blood test at my doctor's surgery and the fact that it showed something connected to my liver which needed checking. I realise that the pandemic has swamped the N.H.S. and what the conditions are at the hospital, for example, social distancing and the staffing, but this test still needs arranging.
Wednesday. I've already been out twice with Alfie. I was up early as usual. Alfie keep staring at me, so I decided that it was no use taking him out at gone 7.30, so I sorted myself out and we were out of the door by around 6.35. It's such a warm morning that I walked around Oldbrook Green. Quite a few people jogging or exercising in some other manner. Then, having had something to eat for breakfast, a bowl of fruit and fibre, Sainsbury's own-brand instead of Kellogg's, which is in where near as good, plus a mug of tea (who on earth has cups and saucers these days?) and after some time it seemed he really needed a second walk at around 8.30. It's no use with him staring at me like he does. It's hot at the moment, and even with the flat windows open, far too much for Alfie and he keeps on finding it hard to keep cool, laying on the floor in front of the sofa and, as I write this, I couldn't immediately find him and he's laying on the floor the other end of the sofa, just out of my sight.
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