Jam Yesterday, Jam Tomorrow, But Never Jam Today

 The title for this blog post, that is, if you weren't aware, is from the Lewis Carroll book, 'Through The Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There.' It seemed somewhat appropriate for the current 'Partygate' situation. But more likely in Boris Johnson's case, 'Cake yesterday, cake tomorrow, but never cake today.' Just thinking about the absurdity of so-called 'Partygate' makes me think of Alice in Wonderland,  and the craziness of the world created by Lewis Carroll. Perhaps a never-ending tea party, with the Mad Hatter (definitely Boris Johnson.) in charge, with the March Hare and Dormouse in attendance. They kept moving around the table, and the Mad Hatter screaming at Alice 'No room! No room!' when there obviously was plenty of room.  The idea of making a promise, in this case, jam, or any sort of promise made by a politician, which is just hot air and they know full well that it can't be kept, in the case of Mr Johnson, how he will deal with Brexit and the aftermath. Remember the infamous bus with the slogan emblazoned on its side 'We send £350 million to the EU every week' which he must have known wasn't accurate. Then there's 'Levelling Up.' The less said about that the better. But who remembers the dying days of the John Major administration in the late 1990s? The so-called 'Back to basics' campaign, went belly-up when several of his ministers were found to be not quite as morally clean as they should have been. I think Mr Major would have liked to put the genie back in the bottle over that one. 

I actually attended a tenants meeting on Thursday! I have been to once since I moved to Dexter House. Barbara, our S.H.O. (Sheltered Housing Officer) took minutes and chaired the meeting. There is a leak in the roof along the corridor leading to the door out into Strudwick Drive. It has to be fixed before the workmen can start work on painting the walls, as it would be pointless to paint and then have water leaking down the paintwork. There's something wrong with the drains here and they have to investigate down one of the pipes which run through the building. I had a shower the other evening and the water took an age to drain away, so I suspect that is connected to a blockage somewhere. The paintwork is soon to be redone, including the stairs which lead up to our flats. Nothing else of any great interest or excitement.

Saturday. 2.20 p.m. It's overcast and windy today. There was a brief sunny period, but it didn't last long. Alfie was doing his prodding thing when I was laying on my bed, so I felt a necessity to take him out and around Oldbrook Green.

Sunday. 8.05 a.m. I didn't wake up until well past 7.30 this morning. It's bright and sunny, but some frost formed ice on the car. I'm going to have to defrost it before I leave to go to church.

Storm Malik caused havoc across the north of England. We seem to have avoided the strength of this storm which is now passing through the country, but there's another storm brewing. I would say both metaphorically and in reality.

2.45 p.m. I have been to church. We have the choice of whether to wear a face mask or muzzle, as I prefer to call them.  The restrictions are slowly being lifted. The hall was full. It seems that more and more people are beginning to return, although there is still the option to watch online via Facebook.

I took Alfie out once I'd had lunch. I notice that there are bulbs beginning to come up as I walk back into Dexter House, in the community garden. Is this a sign of spring? It's getting light a good deal earlier each morning. 

Monday. 8.45 a.m. It's bitterly cold this morning, with a high wind blowing. It might be sunny, but that's deceptive. It still seems though that this area of the country has avoided the worst of Storm Malik. 

Boris Bunter Loves Cake!

Friday. 2.00 p.m. I'm sure Boris Johnson loves cake, so if someone appears on his birthday and waves a bit of cake under his nose, he's bound to go all googly-eyed, and drooling like a dog when downwind of a plate of meaty scraps. So it's no wonder he didn't disown the chance to have a party in Downing Street. Were these parties like children's parties, with jelly and ice cream, musical chairs, blind man's buff, pass the parcel and so on? A goody bag for everyone when they leave? Was there a conjurer there? Or some other children's entertainer? The more I think about 'Partygate' the more ludicrous and pointless all this is. Now is the time for all good men to go to the aid of the party. Perhaps.

And now . . . The Police don't want anything to do with the investigation, which was carried out by the civil servant, Sue Gray. The plot thickens. I think it will turn out that there were far more parties going on that shouldn't have been, probably by other mandarins in Whitehall, rather making the whole thing a bit rich. I wonder what Sir Humphrey Appleby, the Private Secretary of Jim Hacker, the Prime Minister in the BBC sitcom 'Yes, Prime Minister'? No doubt he would have come out with one of his long-winded and complex explanations. This entire affair is turning into a Whitehall farce, quite literally.

This morning I had an email from my MP in response to Partygate. I wrote because I wanted him to know how angry I was that I had been following the pandemic regulations more or less to the letter whilst it seemed those in Downing Street have been having a wild time, or so it would appear. It's not just the hypocrisy that angered me, but the fact that I had to sacrifice going to see my grandchildren over Christmas 20 and now knowing what was going on inside 10 Downing Street.

Saturday. 8.15 a.m. Okay, okay. We're still waiting for the infamous 'Partygate' enquiry results. It seems to be taking over every news programme on television and headlines and front pages of all the newspapers. But, come on chaps, let's get over it and move on, can we, please? I reckon there's more to it than the fact that people broke lockdown regulations. Let's be perfectly honest, how many people actually adhered 100% to the really complicated, and some say, completely unnecessary, regulations. I have a sneaking suspicion that all this nonsense has a rather sinister agenda behind it, and that's to get rid of Boris Johnson. Love him or loathe him, our media is generally controlled by a left-wing element. Particularly the BBC. The Government is eager to clip the wings of our major Public Service broadcaster and in particular to find a new funding model to replace the archaic Television Licence. So, they are more than desperate to find a way to discredit the Conservative government at any cost. Apart from anything else, there are far more important stories to be covered by the papers and television programmes. For example, the fact that Russia is threatening to invade  Ukraine and has sent thousands of troops to the border, or the mounting fuel costs crisis, or how to return the country to some semblance of normality as the pandemic comes to an end. As it is, the media is spinning that story out somewhat and seem reluctant to give any positive news on that particular subject. 

All In A Day's Work

Tuesday. 10.20 a.m. It's still mild. Not sunny, although a slight chill. For late January, really mild. I thought it was cold enough for snow, but it doesn't seem cold enough for snow at the moment.

I have been to post the parcel for the grandsons. I drove towards Coffee Hall, but for some inexplicable reason, I missed the turn, thinking I had gone past the turning for Milton Keynes Academy. So I had to take the next right turn into Coffee Hall. A real maze of roads and with some manoeuvering, I managed to get to Garraways where One Stop is which has the post office inside.

I'm gradually transcribing my handwritten work onto word processing. The new MacBook is certainly making life easier in that respect. I have well over 1500 words written and it's going well. Not just transcribing, but making alterations as I go.

Wednesday. 9.40 a.m. I'm continuing with the transcribing. It's going well. A slow process, but it has to be done.

Yesterday evening I watched the first episode of 'The Green Planet', the latest David Attenborough natural history series on BBC 1. (Although I watched it via BBC iPlayer.) What can I say, except that it's beautiful and totally amazing, especially the use of time-lapse photography, to show plants growing? As usual, the final ten minutes is devoted to the people who make the show, answering a question I had as soon as I saw this footage, 'how do they do it?' This is the type of programme which only the BBC can make. The patience of the makers is totally incredible. It's a bit like animation, something else that intrigues me. A very slow process to get a mere couple of screen time. 

Oh dear! Boris Johnson is in a pickle. Nothing new there. He's something of a loose cannon. Partygate, which it has been christened, is all over the papers. There have been parties, both Christmas and the birthday variety, within the hallowed confines of Number 10 Downing Street during the lockdown in 2020. It would appear that there has been a certain amount of hypocrisy going on here. One minute our esteemed Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, has been telling us to 'remain at home' during the pandemic lockdown, during the almost daily press conferences, the next he has been holding gatherings within Downing Street, one of which was in the garden. It has since been revealed that he has a birthday party held in his honour. There is a picture circulating where he has been presented with a rather tasty-looking birthday cake and he has a wide grin on his face. It seems that he cannot resist cake at any price. Even though he must have know that a gathering of his cabinet or other political allies within Downing Street would have been against the rules. 

Johnson is a combination of Mr Toad, Bertie Wooster, Billy Bunter and Winnie The Pooh!

There is an investigation going into Partygate. It does seem rather extreme, to say the least, and somewhat unnecessary. Will Boris be forced to resign over eating cake? Will he bite the dust? All rather like an episode of the rather brilliant 1980s political sitcom 'Yes Prime Minister."  Even something out of Oliver Cromwell's time as Lord Chancellor. Or perhaps something out of the works of Frans Kafka. Certainly comedic. 

So, what happens after the findings of the independent investigation are revealed? Will Boris be sent packing?

Just tell me, what did this woman Sue Gray investigate? Did she go round 10 Downing Street with a magnifying glass like Sherlock Holmes, looking for birthday cake crumbs? Did she find party poppers on the floor? The candles from Boris's birthday cake? The wrapping paper from presents? It all sounds so idiotic it sounds as if it's been fabricated by some sort of spoilsport.

Busy Doing Nothing!

Friday. 8.10 a.m. That isn't entirely true. I am busy doing something, but it made a good title for this blog post.

It's a still and relatively mild sort of morning, although there was some frost on the grass when I went out earlier with Alfie.

I have just found out that this MacBook Pro doesn't have U.S.B. ports. Neither does it have a slot for a smart card, which the old MacBook Air had. I now know the newer ports are called Thunderbolt and are for connection to the cable for powering up the laptop. I believe I will have to get an adaptor, so I can connect my Canon printer to it as well as my recently-acquired microphone and other peripherals. I am going into the Apple Store in Central Milton Keynes shopping centre to have a word with someone about this and possibly purchase an adaptor. When you buy a new computer or any other electronic device, you never get an instruction manual, although I am proficient with most things. You can always find out information via the internet.

10.p.m. I went into the Apple Store and purchased the adaptor for the MacBook. On setting it up later on the laptop, I accidentally broke my reading glasses. One of the arms has broken off, rendering them virtually impossible to wear, but I managed to find my older pair of reading glasses, which I am currently wearing when I write this blog post.

Monday. 10.30 a.m. I went to church yesterday. It seems that we're more or less back to normal with numbers attending, which is good, although it is still being streamed live via Facebook.

I got home and I hadn't been in the flat five minutes before the fire alarm went off. Just seems a repetition of the other week, when the confounded alarm when off at virtually the same time. I'm not sure whether it was a fault, as it often is, or whether someone set it off because of something burning in their flat, for example, toast or food they'd forgotten to take out of their oven. Might even be because they were smoking. I can definitely smell cigarette smoke, so I suspect someone in the flat below me smokes. May be why there is so much smoking. It certainly gets annoying when it never stops. Just get something for it or even give up smoking, which I doubt very much is going to happen.

I have been collecting free cards in Sainsbury's. The offer has since ended, but you got a pack of Disney cards each time you spent £10. They did a similar thing where the cards were connected to Lego. I also bought an album for them, and had intended taking them with me at Christmas to Worcester for the grandsons. But I forgot. I got something from Amazon which came in a suitably sized envelope, so it seemed ideal to post them off. I needed parcel tape to secure the parcel so went to Asda to buy. I went this morning and was surprised by how much it had been changed since I was last in there. I believe it is now owned by a different company. WalMart, the previous owners, had obviously sold the company.  A change for the better I thought. 

The parcel is now complete and ready for posting.

6.55 p.m. I was in my bedroom listening to music on Alexa when the fire alarm went off. It's so loud I turned the music up to try and cancel out the confounded noise, but, even with the bedroom door closed it was next to impossible to think straight. There was a blue flashing light outside soon afterward, so I assumed it was a fire engine. They were here only yesterday, so they must have a hotline (!) to Dexter House. I must say they got here fast. As I write this (6.56) the noise has stopped, but I can hear the fire engine idling outside. Thank goodness it's stopped. A door has banged shut, so presumably, they're about to drive away. I'm getting suspicious now, I reckon it's been set off deliberately to give the fire service a fee exercise, probably to check how long it takes for an emergency call to be responded to. Probably to fit the required 'target.' Who knows, or even cares?

New MacBook

Wednesday. 1.35 p.m. I now have a brand new MacBook Pro. Completely paid for and up and running successfully. In fact, this blog post is being written on that laptop. I had an email from Milton Keynes Council last Tuesday, telling me to ring and speak to a lady in what is called the Income Department. On Wednesday I did just that, and it appeared I was owed a credit, I'm not quite sure what for, but I hadn't been paid whatever it was. I gave my bank details (and thinking about it later I began to wonder if I had been wise to do such a thing, considering how spams work and how easy it would be for a criminal to extract money from your bank account.) It was a sizeable amount, so my first thought was 'good gracious! It means I can buy a brand-new laptop!' This, as I've mentioned before in these blog posts, is because my MacBook Air has come to the end of its working life. I can't upgrade the operating system, and it's become very slow and difficult. I still wasn't sure whether it was real or not, so I kept looking at the balance on my Nationwide account. Yesterday (Tuesday) I went online, and the money was in the account. So, I did some research online regarding MacBooks and eventually went on the John Lewis website and ordered a new model, more powerful than the old model, and this morning I got an email telling me it was ready to collect. So, I went in and collected it, via the John Lewis customer collection department. I had to migrate data from the old MacBook to the new one, which took a couple of hours, which means virtually all my files are on this new one. It was a really simple and easy process, and I'm surprised how well it went. There are one or two websites that I visit regularly which need their passwords put in, but apart from that, everything went well, fortunately.

I am currently watching my box set of the sitcom 'Allo, 'Allo.  I have had it sitting on my bookshelf for the past couple of years. I watched the first episode, but I haven't watched any of the other episodes. I have watched the occasional episode,  when they were shown on various channels over the years, but never from the beginning and in chronological order. I have never seen any of the first series. I have a connection to it, as I did walk-on work on the second season, spending around a week in 1985, when exterior scenes were filmed around Norfolk and on the outdoor set which was constructed in a courtyard at  Lynford Hall, which is now a hotel. The BBC created the courtyard to become the village square and the exterior of Rene's cafe.

Thursday. 12.10 p.m. It's surprisingly warm and sunny. You could almost say 'spring-like' if you were so inclined. I suppose so, but we're in early January.

I have ordered what is called an 'over-bed' table from Amazon. Not that it will be used 'over-bed.' It should allow me to sit in my armchair and write on my MacBook Pro as well as use it to eat my meals. I don't have a dining table, so it should make life somewhat easier. It's due to be delivered sometime today, well, at least before 10 p.m.

The best bit of news is that more of the covid pandemic restrictions are to be lifted after 26th January. Including not having to wear muzzles, oh er! I mean face coverings. We're supposed to wear the wretched things when shopping, but for me, it's made more difficult because my glasses keep steaming up. You can't communicate properly with them on, almost impossible to have a decent conversation with someone and virtually impossible to 'read' a person's face. So, it's excellent news. Let's just hope that this is the end of the confounded pandemic, or at least, near enough. I might well mean we have to live with the virus and not keep being locked down. 

4.35 p.m. The over the bed table has arrived. Usually, when I get a delivery, the van driver will call me on the intercom from the front door of Dexter House, but this time someone in the front office telephoned me to tell me I had a delivery. Which meant I had to go down and pick up the package. It doesn't really matter, but you would think a delivery driver would have some sort of idea how to contact the recipient of a parcel. Now to construct the table. I'll let you know how I get on, but surely it can't be too difficult to put together. I trust it has instructions within the package and they're easy to read and there are no pieces missing.

6.20 p.m. The table is built! It wasn't as difficult as I was expecting. The worst part is screwing the various pieces together with an Allan key (I think that is the correct name.) You can never always manage to turn the screw through a complete turn, but do it in small increments. Lots of packaging, polystyrene and plastic bags which contain the various screws and tiny bits. The secret I find when working on these self-build bits of furniture (or 'flat pack if it's IKEA or the old MFI furniture. By the way, whatever happened to MFI?) is to put these pieces in a box or plastic container so they don't get lost. As I say, the thing is built and ideal for taking the MacBook so I can work.

One Law For Them . . .

Saturday 15th January. 8.15 a.m. I was somewhat surprised by thick fog as I took Alfie out this morning. As I write this, the BBC Breakfast weather forecast has said that there is 50-100 feet visibility. I can believe it. I don't have to go anywhere in the car, so I won't have to drive through it.

Sunday. 7.45 a.m. A dark and dreary morning. I took Alfie out as he kept on scratching on the bathroom door when I was using the toilet. I took the little pocket torch with me. We weren't outside long, so the torch wasn't necessary. It needs a new battery installing because the light from it is too weak to be of any use.

It looks as if Boris Johnson's tenure as PM is on the line. There have been revelations about Christmas parties being held in 2020 when we were in lockdown and, under Government laws, such gatherings weren't supposed to take place. Boris is attempting to wriggle out of any responsibility for such events (there are several which have come to light, but one clearly showing him attending one in the garden of Number 10. ) There is an inquiry underway, but as it stands, Boris is still PM and as such should have taken responsibility as a leader. One minute he goes on the Downing Street press conferences and announces new measures to prevent the spread of the coronavirus, and behind the scenes, he is allowing gatherings. Real hypocrisy. A definite case of 'do as I saw, not what I do', or, 'one law for them and one for us.' Only time will tell whether he leaves Downing Street as Prime Minister.

2.30 p.m. I've been to church this morning. Sunny and bright as I drove up Chaffron Way. It's still extremely sunny as I took out Alfie. The hall was packed. Phase 2 of the building project (for the Oaktree Centre.) has been revived. 

I got back from church, parked the car, and I thought I heard the fire alarm going off within Dexter House. I hoped it wouldn't be that, but as I walked inside, it was all too obvious that it was. The doors along the corridor leading to my flat had shut (which they do automatically when the alarm goes out, presumably to contain smoke if there is a genuine fire.) I'm never sure whether it's an emergency or some sort of fault with the system. There was definitely no sign of smoke or even flames, no smell of burning. Had someone burnt their toast, left a cigarette burning in an ashtray, or forgotten something in their oven? You never can tell. The sound is deafening and as I entered the flat, Alfie started barking. He really doesn't like the noise. I have to admit it is deafening. I suppose it has to be if it's going to wake people if they're asleep if there's a fire. We're supposed to remain in our flats if there is a fire. Which I'm not doing. That was the instruction given to the tenants of  Grenfell Tower in 2017 and look what happened to them when there was a terrible fire? I have always taken Alfie with me when the alarm goes off, and we go and stand outside the front door until the fire service gives the all-clear to re-enter the building. The din continued for several minutes, after which I pressed the emergency alarm and was told that someone was coming to sort out the alarm, and around 5 minutes later the noise stopped. No doubt it was caused by a fault with the system, which it always seems to be, unfortunately.

Monday. 1.45 p.m. It was icy when I took Alfie out as usual around 7.30 this morning. I intended to go to Sainsbury's, as I needed items to form my lunch when I go to Camphill tomorrow, so I had to spend a good ten minutes defrosting the car. Fortunately, I had bought a fresh can of antifreeze spray from Homebase when I went there the other day, so it didn't take too long.

I am continuing with my writing, which requires transcribing onto word processing. It may have to wait until I can rely on my MacBook to behave itself. It seems fine at the moment, but it has a habit of shutting itself down. I have no idea what's causing this, but I still think the only solution is to purchase a new model which will have the newest version of all the software on it. Unfortunately, the MacBook doesn't have enough memory to install the latest version of the operating system. It is over seven years old, which is supposed to be the average life of a computer, so I reckon I've got plenty of work out of it over the years and it has done good duty.

Late Night

Thursday 13th January.1.05 a.m. Here I am at my MacBook, which seems to be working relatively well, allowing me to sit and write this blog post. Another case of not being able to sleep. I have been doing domestic chores, washing up last night's things from making my meal and generally tidying the kitchen. I don't like having piles of dirty plates, pots and pans left in the sink. I think it goes back to being a temp and doing kitchen jobs in various units around Bedford in the 1990s. Kept the bills paid and a rich source of material for my writing. 

There is noise outside. I think it's on or around Oldbrook Green. The sound of what I think is a motorbike or scooter. Revving engines and bursts of engine noise. At this time of night, it shouldn't be allowed. People want to sleep, so why aren't the police intervening and preventing it? It's really not acceptable.

7.15 p.m. I have been to get my hair cut at Central Barbers this morning. I had booked online yesterday, which made it a good deal easier, even paying. I will have to get Alfie booked in at The Groom Room as he is in real need of a haircut himself.

10.25 p.m. Another sleepless night. Does it really matter? Not really. I've been watching an episode of 'My Family', the BBC sitcom with Robert Lindsey and Zoe Wanamaker. All the episodes are on iPlayer and I'm working though all the episodes. It's not exactly the most original of sitcoms, but it's their acting and general involvement which lifts it out of the rut of a lot of what you'd call studio sitcoms into something special. I think it's their chemistry as actors which makes it.  If I have a niggle with it, how come their son, Nick, played by Kris Marshall, who must be in his 20's, is still living at home and doesn't have a proper job? His career has certainly taken off since he was in this show, which finished production in around 2010, plus or minus a year or so, and has since starred in such television shows as 'Death In Paradise'.   There is virtually no sitcom on terrestrial television that comes anywhere near the quality of this show, and certainly no as there used to be once upon a time, or, say, the standard of something like 'Fawlty Towers' or 'The Good Life.' They used to make sitcoms in small batches, of, say, six or seven.  Modern television seems to demand a run of perhaps twenty or more episodes, rather in the fashion of American television. They usually write their shows with a group of writers and not with a single writer or even a couple of writers, which is how 'Steptoe and Son' was written by Galton and Simpson. In fact, generally, television has become really dull and unimaginative, something I've discussed elsewhere on this blog.

Friday. 10.15 a.m. Some dear soul in one of the flats beneath me is coughing. It isn't for a short period, but going on continuously. I have an idea it's because they smoke. So I have to be sympathetic so someone with a cough who smokes? No, definitely not. It's self-inflicted. Why not merely get some cough sweets to suck or some cough mixture of some sort or just drink something to relieve it. It's just becoming annoying and interrupting my writing and general peace and quiet.

I've done my washing for the week. Friday is always washing day. I had the machine on a good deal earlier than normal, around 7.30. I have purchased a garment steamer and I've been trying it out on one of my Marks and Spencer polo shirts. It certainly does it's job and gets rid of any wrinkles in a garment and saves having to get the ironing board out, plug in the iron and the stand and iron. I'm fine doing this job, but it still takes a lot of effort. 

Quite sunny and bright out, but frosty when I took Alfie out. 

Back At Camphill!

Wednesday 12th January. 6.35 p.m. Yesterday I was at Camphill, the first time since late March 2020, when the first lockdown came in, and we had to hide away from each other to keep the coronavirus at bay. I did a lateral flow test early on Wednesday morning, as instructed. Fortunately, it was negative, as I thought it might be. Not something I enjoy, shoving a swab stick up each nostril and to the back of my throat. Am I the only person who wants to gag when they do this? I bet you do. Then it was take Alfie out onto the grass along Strudwick Drive and then drive to Willen.

I went straight to the office once I had parked and had to go through a further test and fill in forms before I was taken to the Chrysalis Theatre. The gang were sitting in a ring, the normal set-up for the beginning of a day. I didn't expect the reception I got as soon as I stepped through the door! The whole place erupted! Just shows how lovely they all are. Apparently they hadn't been told I was going to come back, but they knew there was going to be a surprise.

As usual, we did a check-in, which involves having to say how you felt at that moment and what you had been doing at Christmas. It took a good deal longer than I remember when I was at Camphill almost two years ago.

Terri, who has taken over from Teo, who used to lead the theatre workshop on a Tuesday, gave a rough outline of how she intended the year ahead to develop, with new drama projects. Then a time doing exercises, warm-ups of a wide variety. One game where the team was put into pairs. One member of the group did a mime and the other person had to copy it. For example, a certain sort of job, such as a plumber, fisherman or whatever.

After lunch, Terri talked about a Royal pudding. It sounded weird at first, but it was connected to the Queen's Jubilee this year, her Platinum, which marks her 70 years on the throne. Buckingham Palace has unveiled a competition for people to create a pudding for Her Majesty. From this the guys did a piece which was based on the television show 'The Great British Bake Off.' They had to make a pudding or cake (not real by the way. Everything imaginary and mimed.) Following the format of G.B.B.O. the team had to 'make' their pudding or cake and, as some of us went round, in the style of the presenters from the show as well as the judges, in this case Paul Hollywood and Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, they could describe in fairly minute detail the pudding or cake they were 'making.' At the end of the mock 'two hours' they had to present their concoction to the judges and then the judges went away to decide on 'Star Baker' and eventually an over-all winner.

A really great day and I'm so glad to be back at Camphill, although wearing a face covering does make life somewhat more difficult, especially talking as it does muffle your voice, and it's often difficult to judge a person's facial expression and to sometimes hear what they are saying. The sooner the Government realises that they don't really have much of an effect on restricting the virus, the better, infact, removing all the restrictions, the world would be a far better place.

Welcome To 2022!

Sunday 2nd January. Here we are, Christmas the  New Year are over and a brand-new year. I just only hope that it can be better than the past two years. Being cooped up in a small flat with just a small Yorkshire Terrier isn't really my idea of any sort of life. Although I should just point out that Alfie has been and is still an excellent little companion, although he has become very demanding, probably because we spend so much time together.

 It doesn't seem like a week has flown by since we went to Worcester for the Christmas weekend. We left on the Friday morning (Christmas Eve) and came back on Sunday (Boxing Day.) It was quite foggy on the motorway, but we made good time, arriving in Worcester just after midday. The three grandsons, George, Eddie and Arthur, were watching my arrival through the window as I drew up. I am called 'Grandad and Alfie Dog' almost as if we are an attached couple, although in some ways I suppose we are. Alfie just doesn't understand young children, probably because they move around faster than the average adult, have higher pitched voices and have a tendency to grab and stroke. This is entirely understandable since we have been leading a somewhat simple life since the pandemic and definitely since Carol's death. Chloe and Steve put a childproof stair gate across the entrance to the utility room, which is off the kitchen at their house in Worcester. Alfie had his bed, water and food if he needed to have a feed and the back door could be opened so he could get out into the garden. He did not like it, although he did settle down eventually and made little noise, but we did let him come out and wander around the house once the children went to bed in the evening. During this time he was quiet and seemed far more settled, wandering around after me like a shadow, even following me to the toilet.

We came home on Sunday afternoon and got back to the flat at around 5 o'clock. I'm so glad I didn't leave any later as I didn't want to drive on the Motorway in the dark, or at least, in reduced light. I'm not too keen driving in lights. On both the journey out and the journey back home I needed to stop at the  Moto Cherwell Valley service area. I had a need to use the toilets. It's a long walk into the building where all the shops and restaurants are. But it fulfilled my needs and I was soon back in the car completing the journey. Alfie is quiet minutes after being placed in the cage in the rear of the car, with the parcel shelf down which must make it dark, and he feels safe. But as soon as I draw the car up in a carpark or the drive at home, he starts barking and getting excited. 

Monday 3rd January. 11.00 a.m. I have turfed out the Christmas tree, which has been shedding it's needles for the past week or so and consequently looking somewhat thin and a real mess. I then vacuumed up the needles and have since given the floor a mop with the Vax steamer, and it's beginning to look a good deal better for the work it has entailed. 

For some unaccountable reason, my Panasonic Free view box stopped connecting to the internet. Without this connection, you cannot get any of the catch-up services such as BBC iPlayer to work or Netflix or other streaming services to work via this piece of kit. I had problems with it a few months ago. I simply wouldn't connect via Wi-Fi. I bought some cable from Amazon and used that to connect directly via the Wi-Fi hub. Furthermore, I attempted to reconnect via the hub once I got my Sky upgrade, and duly reconnected the cable via the back of the hub and into the Panasonic box. I seemed fine for a week or so, but then it decided to stop. I have since reconfigured the wifi connection with the new hub and used the password, and it now works. The thing was just being difficult for the sake of it, but at least it's working, thankfully. Yet another problem solved.