Thursday. 6.45 a.m. So, what are the chances that we might return to some sort of normal life with lockdown restrictions being lifted, or at least, some of them? Let me think. Probably not going to be quite as 'normal' as one might expect, because there's still going to be the threat of further outbreaks of coronavirus infections. So, tomorrow (Monday) the first of the lifting of restrictions are going to begin.
My lovely daughter, Chloe, has just given birth to the fourth grandchild, a girl, Rosie Alice. Born 10th May, weight 7lb 15oz. Just hope I can go and visit them soon in Worcester. The three other boys, George, Eddie, and Arthur will no doubt make a real fuss of her! I can't wait to go and visit them. It's been so long since I went to see them. In fact, it was Christmas 2019 when I was last with them.
Friday. 7.00 a.m. It's overcast and mild. It was wet yesterday, so let's hope it remains relatively dry today.
During his Downing Street press conference the other evening, Boris Johnson was talking about how we will be able to cuddle once some of the lockdown restrictions are lifted. It was all mentioned with a very serious look on his face. The same could be said of the reporters who have been covering all of this on BBC News, BBC Breakfast, and so on. How on earth they managed to avoid bursting into laughing I can't imagine. To be honest, it really would do no harm to let go and at least smile when discussing it. It is coming over rather like a sketch on Monty Python's Flying Circus or The Goon Show. Things have been pretty grim for the last year and more, so a guffaw or titter wouldn't hurt. 'Oh er, madam! Titter not!' as Frankie Howerd would have said. 'Cuddle not! Ooh er, Missus!'
The other thing which might put the cat among the pigeons might be what they call the 'Indian Variant' of the coronavirus which has been identified within the United Kingdom. But we must get out of this current situation and we can't go on running away from this virus. We all know that viruses mutate and this one is no exception.
Saturday. 8.10 a.m. Quietly sitting and working on the laptop. I've been out with Alfie, as normal. It's raining, but not heavy. A light shower, almost like a mist. ('mist-like would be better.) Then my ears are assaulted by the fire alarm going off. Just so loud it hurts my ears. It can't be a test, because that is done during the week when our S.H.O. is here, and it lasts about 30 seconds. Alfie barks and doesn't stop barking. Nothing for it, but to go outside. I abandon what I'm doing on the laptop, scoop up Alfie in my arms (which stops him barking. I suppose it's difficult to do so if he's being held.), and walk down to the front door and stand under the awning to keep out of the rain. Alfie is heavy to hold for any length of time, so I put him on the ground. He shakes like a leaf. I suppose, because dogs can hear higher pitch sounds than humans, it must hurt his ears, hence his barking. After around five minutes we can hear a fire engine approaching, and it roars up with lights flashing and one of the firemen gets out and I have to let him into Dexter House with my keys because the automatic door doesn't open without. (This needs repairing urgently and causes some annoyance and inconvenience.) It turns out someone left something cooking in their oven and it was that that set the fire alarms off. After around 15 minutes the noise went off and we could return to my flat. Panic over!
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