Tuesday, 26 January 2021

Two heroes

 I don't often comment about things on social media but this photo really made me sad.

    I wonder if these two manly hunters really feel proud of themselves for slaughtering a two year old elephant.

Saturday, 23 January 2021

It's not as if we don't live together.

 My beloved, or she-who-must-be-first, always, has had her first Covid jab. Now I'm not about to be petty, but:

What about me???

Friday, 22 January 2021

Got me a plan.

 On the basis that two of the symptoms of Covid are loss of taste and smell, I've begun dosing myself with wine every few minutes, just to be circumspect you understand.

    In fact I dosed myself about forty times yesterday and can confirm that I don't have it. I did wake up this morning with a bit of a dopey head. In an attempt to be sure, I dosed myself with a small drop of aforementioned brew, and to my delight, found that I was clear.

    I suspect that this isn't a long term proposal but a man locked on the house for month after month, has to have something to do.

Tuesday, 19 January 2021

I haven't been out. Is the world still there?

I live in a small-ish village in west London. It's never exactly bustling. In fact I suspect nothing has ever bustled in Pinner. Yet, earlier, I ventured to my local supermarket for supplies as the cat food, of which I have plenty, was beginning to look strangely tasty.

    Curiously, the shelves containing toilet paper and pasta were comfortingly full. Although there was bugger all on the rest of the shelves. Thus tonight I'll be eating toilet paper carbonara or be forced to delve into the freezer where I've discovered oodles of food. Unfortunately, most of it went out of date about five years ago. Still, if I eat something that's going to give me food poisoning, I'll have plenty of...

    I'll stop there, poor taste; just as I suspect Cotonelle cannelloni would hardly be the most edifying of meals.

My new hero, Harold, for whom I had hoped so much, has had a relapse and is now in a place where escaping is as dangerous as remaining. I'll work it out, or my novel is going to be a novella.

Saturday, 16 January 2021

In the 8,000,000,000th day of lockdown.

 Despite my initial joy, although not at the rubbish wages I'm earning, I'm finally getting tired of lockdown.

    Is this a phrase ever uttered by a human - ever? "I want to go back to work."

    Even writing has become harder, so here's a painting I've been messing with.


    My usual dross, but I think it looks better without colour. I just downloaded the latest version of G*IMP, and they've changed everything again. It was hard to use before but if it hadn't been for YouTube, I would have had to start learning it all over again.

    Luckily, I've had a brainwave, and know how to finish Harold, (I've really got to change the name of my new novel) so this afternoon, I'll get on with it and hopefully finish the first draft in about a week.

Tuesday, 12 January 2021

Some people are so stupid.

The British National Health system is envied by many countries, although, not as a lot of people believe, because it's free. It isn't. We have to pay for it. 

    At the moment Covid has almost crippled it, and I know why.

    Until last week my local supermarket had people stationed at the front door, insisting that customers entering, squirted some anti-bacterial gel on their hands, and wore a mask. They've gone now. I suppose they also have staff off sick. But,  from the moment the gel guard disappeared, people simply stopped putting it on their hands. Yesterday, I watched as the ten people before me entered, and not one put the gel on. Three of them weren't even wearing masks, and not one of them were elderly or very young. 

    The police are still breaking up illegal parties of one hundred plus and people are still behaving like there's nothing wrong. And now social media has been vomiting news like immunisation is the work of Satan, and people are believing it. We have three entirely separate injections being issued and still some people are refusing to take it.

    I'm just going to hide inside the house and when all the brain-dead are gone, the world will be a much better place.

    This is the first depressing blog I've ever written and I didn't enjoy it.

Monday, 4 January 2021

Happy new year, sort of.

That's what the smiling manager of the bike shop said to me with a grin you'd expect from a giant shark upon spotting a dozing seal. 

    Apparently it was my own fault that I was on furlough - again.

    The salt on the roads have corroded the aluminium calipers on my motorbike brakes, rendering them useless as they won't come off. I think I used about six months of meat from the brake pads, just getting to the shop. When he's finished the caliper rebuild, he'll probably tell me that the pads will need to be changed as well. But if he thinks I'm going to pay for them, then he can go whistle as the bike has been into his shop twice in the past three weeks for exactly the same problem, for which I paid dearly.

    That aside, my day's going fine. I'm nearly half way through the first draft of Harold (I think I'll have to rethink the title) and now the fun is starting. My fun that is, I always have a good time thinking up ridiculous situations for my characters to fall into, and just as much fun getting them out, or not, as the case may be.

    He's accumulated the IQ of a dustbin, which is about twice what he had upon starting the book. He's also found a love interest. There won't be any hanky panky; I don't do that.

    Hope you're all enjoying the new year. For myself, I'm only looking forward to my first Covid injection, for which I've already been alerted. I hope it's soon.