Roland Ladley's Blog, page 29

Form an escape committee

A number of things. First I am 9,000/80,000 words into my new novel. I have to admit that a couple of days ago I almost gave up. It wasn’t Sam and it just wasn’t me. And then, surprisingly as she never normally wants me to share my work, C asked me to read out

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escaping to … Doris!

what I had written. And – so she tells me – she loved it. On the back of that I’ve cracked on, pushing out 2,000 words yesterday (aim is 1,000 words a day). Brilliant.

I have bought the Li-Ion leisure batteries for Doris. It happened much quicker than I thought it would. We have two Sterling gadgets fitted. First is a 2,300 Watt inverter and battery charger. Second is a Sterling battery-to-battery charger, which fast charges the leisure batteries via the alternator. They are good bits of kit and … Sterling do Lithium-Ion batteries. Their 100AH batteries were just over £800 each, which is pretty much industry standard. Anyhow, I dropped them a line and they offered me an on-line discount of 25%. That made 2 x 100 AH batteries come in at £1200. Perfect. And they arrived today. I will fit them tomorrow and let you know how it goes.

Next, and not so successful, the new battery for my bike arrived today. I thought I’d bought the same on as I got for C last year. Hers has almost twice the capacity of the original, works perfectly and came in at £300 (the bikes are almost 10 years old and still going strong). That battery turned up from Germany yesterday … and didn’t work, no matter what I did. A quick email exchange later and it’s now ready for dispatch back to where it came. Hopefully they will sort it.

And we have escaped. After His Johnsonness gave us the all clear to travel to exercise, the three of us popped down to the Severn today and strolled along its banks in wind that was too cold and breezy for a mid-May day. But, hey-ho, it was the first time C and Mary had been in a car for seven weeks.

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almost from a different time

 

In that regard we have no ambitions to change the way we do our business. Our aim is not to get the disease. Simple as that. And, after I popped into little Tesco this morning to try and send the battery back to Germany (Parcel Force won’t take batteries), I was one of seven shoppers, only two of us were wearing facemasks. Now I know the government have only recommended, not mandated that we wear them shopping, but you would have thought the hit rate would have been higher than that. I’m all for mandating this. Now.

Other than that, life potters along at a slow old pace. I think C is struggling with cabin fever more than Mary and I, but it does seem to be cyclical. We’ll see.

Keep safe everyone.

Bizarre

I’ve just come off the phone to a friend of mine, Kenn. We speak weekly, mosty to have a good whinge at the government’s reaction to the current crisis. He, politely, asked me what I’d been up to over the past week. It was a difficult question to answer. What had we been up to?

Well, we buried my brother on Thursday. I say we. I wasn’t there. His poor girls put the whole thing together – a 30 minute, very warm and reflective cremation. It was one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever experienced. Moving, but in a wholly divorced way. I was

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I got this lovely pressy from a guy I’ve been coaching at the MoD.

working Thursday (my last day with the MoD) and had purposefully arranged calls either side of the funeral. Which helped, I think. Anyway, that deed is now done. And I am grateful. As I think Mum is. 

Apart from that? Well, nothing of substance, really. My run this morning was longer than usual – probably about 6 km. I have managed 1,500 words a day on the new book; I’m already up at 6,000. If I manage to continue at this pace I should have it done by the end of July. Whether or not it’s any good, I’m not sure. I am excited … but I have no idea whether it’s going to work. I’ve tried to add some humour, whilst also adding my usual gritty realism. We’ll see.

Oh. I went to Tesco on Friday, the usual beanfeast. I was one of four – of about 100 shoppers, who Tesco staff allow in the store – who was wearing a mask. I know you know, but I’m completely unconvinced that not wearing a mask is the way ahead. We’ll see what His Borisness tells us tomorrow. And, as they’re now looking to impose a mandatory 14-day lockdown on people arriving in the UK (better late than never), I’m guessing we’re going to follow suit on masks soon. Catching up as always.

My Motorola phone broke yesterday. It’s the second time it wouldn’t take a charge. The first time was soon after I’d bought it, they asked me to send it back and they returned it straight away. It’s now out of warranty – and has a cracked screen – so I gave up. I was all for not buying another Motorola, but at £99 for the G7 – which is a really talented phone – you can’t argue with where it falls on the cost-effective graph. So I have one of those now. Hurrah?

And next? Well we have the family quiz again tomorrow. With the weather turning colder we will probably have to wear more clothes (I’m sat outside in shorts and t-shirt typing this), but the West looks set to keep Mrs Sun for a while. That’s good news. C is planning our trip to Scotland in Doris – whenever that is. We both feel that crossing the channel won’t be on the cards for a while, but Scotland is probably a goer. Let’s hope we get further than Gretna this time.

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New purchase in prep for Scotland. No comments please.

Keep safe everyone!

Word after word after word

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no sure about this … at all

I’m exhausted already. I written 3,500 words of my ‘new book’, which is of a non-Sam Green variety. And already I’m full of trepidation, tired with nervous exhaustion and very excited. I’ve read the words to C whose immediate comment (which is an echo of all of her comments about any of my books) was, ‘It’s too detailed’. It is. That’s for sure. And it’s gritty – not chick-lit stuff, but more thrilleresque.

I can’t do lightweight. I have to give realism to my words with some in-depth stuff. I can’t stop myself. If any of you have ever read Tom Clancy, you’ll know where I’m coming from. I like the detailed touches. I want to know most things. And, most important, I want to know that my storyteller is not spinning me a yarn; that they’re on their game and know everything. That’s the problem I feel with a lot of these modern-day thrillers. They’re all plot and no substance.

I’m probably wrong. Clearly all the ones I’ve read have found a publishing contract. And I have not. Oh well.

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mmm, new garden bench

We’re fine here. Still keeping safe and avoiding people. The days seem to go quickly enough and I guess, as we head to less of a lockdown, that’s not a bad thing. Although, noting that both C and I would no longer consider ourselves to be young, wishing away what’s left of your life is hardly a sensible thing to do.

Doris. I am very close to ordering some Lithium-Ion habitation batteries. The ones we currently have (3 x 110 AH) have been in there for four years and I think they’re beginning to show signs of wear. And, as we spend a lot of our time off grid, and as we intend to keep motorhoming well into our dotage, getting Li-Ion-Po replacements seems like a good investment. Apart from just being better – you can charge and discharge them quickly, In detail they are a third of the weight, last five times as long and have the double the capacity for the same nominal AH rating. And they just slot in, like for like.

So we would need 160 AH’s worth of replacement and, and they come with a battery management system, we’re looking at around £1600, as opposed to a £400 straight replacement. You can do the maths yourself. It’s probably going to save money in the long run or, if nothing else, break even and give us peace of mind at the same time. But, which batteries? You can spend a fortune … or you can go cheap. There is clearly more work to be done.

It’s Kevin’s funeral tomorrow. We have a local rev-guy going into Mum’s garden tomorrow and C and I will be watching via video link. Mum, I really feel, wants this to be over. It was the same last year with dad’s funeral (which, spookily, was also held on May 7th). She’s was like a cat on a hot tin roof … and then relaxed the day after.

Me. Well, I hate funerals. I know it’s not about me. But I have absolutely no interest in watching my brother’s body being sent into a furnace. None whatsoever. So. Yes. I’ll be glad when it’s over.

Oh. And I have some consultancy calls with the MoD, my last day. In some ways I’m glad it’s over. Although, with 8 people to talk to tomorrow, I sense that many of the team still get something from our discussions. We’ll see.

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please stay safe

I am disappointed

I could get all political, as I do sometimes. Especially in light of my brother’s death. He became ill a few days before the lockdown was called and, I guess, if lockdown had been called earlier he might have survived. I could, therefore, get all political. But I’m not going to, other than to tell you that I am disappointed that this government has consistently been at least two weeks behind the curve.

That they allowed major public events, such as Cheltenham, to go ahead whilst Italy was screaming at us to lockdown. I am disappointed that we didn’t test and trace and, as a result we have lost that opportunity until we get a workable App. I am disappointed that we ignored care homes to the point where Covid-sick people were being discharged from hospital and taken back into care, taking a match to a tinderbox. I am disappointed that the procurement of PPE has been a dog’s breakfast. I am disappointed that planes are still landing and people are getting off, picking up their bags and heading off into the community without any testing. I am disappointed that, when I shop in Tesco, everyone is not obliged to wear face covering. Because, mark my words, soon we will be asked to – even if it’s just a scarf. It makes complete sense, no matter what the government says … and that’s why most other countries have mandated it. Yet, still we don’t – it’s that lag again. And still I feel uncomfortable shopping, even though I am wearing a mask.

And I am disappointed that rather than tell the truth about the number of daily tests carried out yesterday against the 100,000 target, the government decided to play a propaganda hand and fiddle with the stats, where an honest approach would have – in some small way – made us proud as to what they have actually achieved (73,000 actually tested). This is not the time for deceit. It’s not the time for party politics. It is not the time for global comparisons where, apparently, we are doing better than most (look at the numbers; they speak for themselves)? Why make a comparison anyway? We are all in this together. One globe – one pandemic … it is not a competition. Really, it is not.

So, I am not going to get political. I am not.

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togging up for Tesco

What have we been up to? Well, I have made a decision to write a non-Sam Green novel. My contact at Bookouture is sort of encouraging me, and wants to see a synopsis. I have a plot in my head and hopefully, by the end of next week, I’ll have something for her. I have absolutely no idea if I can make it work; that my new character won’t be Sam Green but wearing a different frock. But I am determined to give it a go. I’m looking at a chick-lit thriller. No spies, no military and probably not a great deal of violence. Goodness … what am I ever going to write about? Wish me luck.

Other than that it has been, I guess like you, pretty groundhog dayish. I’ve got to the end of Ozark (Netflix) which is darker than peat and brilliantly acted. I have to watch it on my own in Doris because the swearing and the violence doesn’t pass muster with the girls. We are collectively enjoying The Man in the High Castle (Prime) and both C and I do want to get onto Devs and Killing Eve, but they might be too violent for Mary. We’ll see. There’s plenty of time to get round to that. 

And, other than that and the weekly trip to Tesco we are just getting through the day. Lots of little stuff gets done and C spends a lot of time in the kitchen knocking up super meals and the odd cake. In some ways it’s all quite delicious.

However … it will be good when it’s over, won’t it?

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we paid off the mortgage on our original house this week – something to celebrate

Almost, but not quite …

So … I didn’t get a publishing contract in the end. I found out yesterday. The company was Bookouture, a digital imprint publisher – the biggest in the UK and, apparently, v good at what it does. On The Back Foot To Hell got a full read with v nice comments and they asked to look at the series. I then got an email saying that they were discussing ‘logistics’. And, finally, yesterday, I got a very nice rejection – but to be clear, as an expert in rejections, they are nearly always ‘nice’. In case you’re interested here it is:

Thanks so much for all the information you’ve given me on your brilliant Sam Green series. I’m really sorry to say that after lengthy consideration, we don’t think these would be right for us at Bookouture. 

I really enjoyed reading both of your books – I love the detail and depth you go into with each story and your forensic knowledge of the workings of the British secret service and government departments. It makes for a fascinating read and I am so impressed by your excellent reviews on both US and UK Amazon. You’ve clearly found a group of readers who absolutely adore your books and love the Sam Green series! 

Ultimately, I’m afraid that our team wasn’t sure that we could add enough value to what you’re already doing very well to make this right for either of us. As your books are a little bit longer and more detailed, we felt that we might not be able to broaden your readership in the way we’d want to. I’m really sorry not to have better news on this as I’ve so much enjoyed talking with you and been so impressed by your enthusiasm and everything you’re already doing – getting rights back from Amazon, exploring audio and film and TV too. 

If you are ever interested in starting a new series, I’d be really pleased to see your ideas. I wish you a great launch for book 6 and I hope we can stay in touch.

It is easily the closest I have ever got to full publication, although with Fuelling the Fire published by Amazon Publishing, that was as good as. Realistically I don’t think I’m going to get another shot at the title … unless I were to write something different. Which is a thought. 

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Sunday fun – Zoom quiz with friends and family

Anyhow, I do have Blood Red Earth to get out there. And I am determined to have a go at my own marketing via Amazon and Facebook … I might even pay someone to do that work for me. And, of course, I have the audiobook to crack on with. It is a bit of a ‘ho-hum’ to be honest with you, and what with everything else and now the rain has started I’m having to work hard to stay positive. Will try though.

We’re ok. Actually considering everything we’re on pretty good form. Our routine continues, including, over the past couple of weeks, a Sunday Zoom quiz with Bex and

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couldn’t be neater

Steven and some Army pals. That’s fun. And we’re walking and running, and C and I are still doing stretches and non-running exercises to try and stay in shape. The key thing for us is to stay safe. All the noise seems to be that the disease is particularly indiscriminate and we know to our cost that it is very unpleasant. Whether or not there’s an inevitability that we will all have to catch it at some point (or risk being in solitude forever) remains to be seen. In the meantime …

I’ve got a Zoom call at lunchtime today. I’m running a Compassionate Leadership seminar for some MoD people and I also have a couple of calls tomorrow. Apart from that I am going to look hard at a new character and a new book (the thought scares the bejeezus out of me) and I will look to do some advertising, probably next week. Oh … and there’s my brother’s estate to crack on with. I think I have all the pieces there and have started the process with the tax people. Hopefully I can do it without too much trouble.

Anyway. You lot stay safe out there. Keep your distance and I would wear a mask when shopping no matter what our mildly incompetent government don’t recommend. My view is that if they’ve been following the science for the past 4 months and we now have the highest death rate in Europe, maybe they’ve been asking the wrong scientists?

Stay safe.   

 

Edgy

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Ahh, Tulips

I’m a bit on edge. It’s a combination of things. First my brother’s death stalks me like a sniper. Most of the time, when my brain is occupied on other things, there’s no room for grief. Or regret. And then some bizarre little or, indeed, big occurrence will bring it all back and I struggle. Actually I do also think that it has brought my mood down across the board, even when I’m not thinking about him. I guess that’s natural.

Second, and like you, the lockdown is taking its toll. We are not living a normal life. And whilst it has had its upsides – we’ve got so many little jobs done which we would not have otherwise (maybe ever) – the restrictions are telling. We would normally be away (just now in Spain, according to our original timetable) or, at least, planning to go away. Our little two-up, two-down is a bolthole. It’s a pause between travel. Whilst we love it, it’s a resting place. It’s not a castle. It’s not a reason to be, as it were. This year did look like: three weeks skiing (did that, phew); 7 weeks in Spain in Doris; 3 weeks at home with Bex and Steven as they come back for the summer from Seoul; a 6 week drive to Baku in the car; and then something else to fill the rest of the year. Other than the skiing, it seems likely that none of that is going to happen.

Now, we know that we are luckier than most. And it is absolutely true to say that neither of us have complained – yes, we’ve been a bit miserable (me now, C less so, but it was the other way round yesterday) – but we know which side our bread is buttered. We are v fortunate. We know that. But you can’t see off cabin fever when it attacks you like a bear. You just have to work your way through it. We both find that exercise helps.

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hand made face masks … off down to rob a bank

And there’s a third thing. It’s a big book secret and, I guess for superstitious reason, I’m not going to offer any details. And whilst the answer is closer than ever (I might have known last week) it seems likely that I will be told this week. I think, as per usual, the answer will not be in my favour, and I am ready for that. But it’s nearer than I have ever been to some proper movement in the book/screenplay area. I will, I promise, give you all the details, good or bad, when it is right to do so. So that’s adding to my edginess.

For the record we have walked, run, eaten, worked on Doris, done more in the garden and watched TV. Which, I guess, is what you lot have been up to? Funny that …

I hope next time I post I’ll be able to fill you in on some of the detail about the books, even if the news is not good. So … more to follow, as they say.

Days pass

Days pass. Which merge into weeks. Saturdays and Sundays lose their cache. The car has ventured off the driveway three times in four weeks a journey of under a mile to big Tesco. C and Mary have done no more than walk (in C’s case run) from the house. Everyone outside of Bradley Stoke could be having a party and we wouldn’t know. There is nothing left to clean, fix or move somewhere, only to move it back again.

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so, exactly how do you do probate for someone who hasn’t left a will?

Even the news is predictable. The numbers, even with my brother one of the total, are numbingly repetitive. The discourse is samey. Tomorrow’s headlines will be like today’s, moved on just a little. When we get the PPE right, it’ll be something else. The tragedy of care homes has been looming large, and soon it will take over as the main lead. Then it will be not getting the opening of the lockdown right. It’s all just degrees of tilt from a direction which will remain rubbish for a long time yet.

My work is restricted to a Thursday. I take five or six calls from the MoD team I’m working with. That’s a highlight and it earns a little bit of cash (it will make up for the money we’ve lost from a tenant who we are taking less rent from). The blog is twice weekly – that takes up some of the time. And we have settled into a weekly quiz on a Sunday, with Bex and Steven, Al and Annie and whoever else would like to come along. I have also started looking at Kevin’s estate (no will, grrr) on behalf of his girls. The Coop gave me a ball park figure of £5000 to do probate – I would hope to save that cash for the two of them.

And, of course, there is telly. The Man in the High Castle from Netflix is entertaining. We watched the One World concert on Sunday which was great. And I have the rest of Ozark, and Homeland (10), Killing Eve and a few other more dramatic series tucked away. The right time to watch those will present itself.

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we got his Fortnum and Mason hamper on Saturday from the girls in C’s old house (when she was a houseparent). It bowled us over …

And we have each other. And money. And food. And running, hot and cold water. And a garden. And the intelligence to entertain ourselves. We’re not living in a tiny flat on the 14th floor of a tower block, virus-unemployed and living on handouts from foodbanks. We are immeasurably better off than almost everyone else. Particularly as at the end of this C and I can just get in Doris and head off somewhere remote by the sea, run about naked screaming at the tops of our voices and drink more gin and tonic than is really good for us.

That’s something to look forward to.

Stay home and keep safe.

And so it ends

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rest in peace, Kevin

And so it ends. Kevin lost his fight on Wednesday night after two weeks on a ventilator. He leaves two young adult girls who lost their mother to cancer ten or so years ago. It’s all pretty rubbish.

Born four years apart Kev and I were never particularly close. We chose different paths and it’s honest to say that blood is what kept us together. We spoke on the phone monthly and caught up with each other annually – the last time I saw him face-to-face was at Dad’s funeral last April. His illness, however, suddenly threw us together. We spoke daily – hourly in the last few days before he went to hospital for the second time. We had a WhatsApp video call on the Sunday afternoon before he was finally admitted on the Tuesday. He was fully dressed and sitting up. He looked rubbish, but not close to death. And, heartbreakingly, the last time I spoke to him was just before he was intubated. He phoned me, struggling to speak through his overpressure oxygen mask.

‘I’m going under. I’m going under.’ And that was it.

Georgina and Grace, his two girls, had a video link with him on Wednesday night after they took him off the ventilator. Georgina told me she wasn’t sure if her Dad had heard them … but I have to believe that he did. He died, with his hand in that of a nurse, ten minutes later.

What a waste. He was 62. The life and soul of the party. A man who would fill a room – drink in one hand, non-PC joke at the ready to shock and amuse. He ran a pub quiz at Rebecca’s, our eldest’s, wedding a couple of years ago. I knew he would do it intelligently. I knew he would run a quiz people would remember. He would work the room. Make them laugh. Entertain. I was also worried he might, by the time he started, have had one too many. And in a Four Weddings and a Funeral moment say something he shouldn’t; or trip over a chair and end up on his backside.

I needn’t have worried. He hit the mark. Took it to the edge and no further. And people loved it.

That was him. He was a hard working, personable man who laughed and smiled more in a week than I do in a month (removes tear from keyboard). In his early days he was a playboy in my eyes. Earning bags of cash and burning it on fine wine, fast cars and attractive women. Later he was a family man; a runner and a swimmer. A great dad. A local man, with his pub, his local park run and a big TV to show the six nations with accompanying rugby top, flags and bunting. His life wasn’t perfect, but he lived what there was of it to the full. In that regard he’s a beacon. A light to follow.

I miss him. I feel for his now parentless girls – C and I will do what we can. And I feel for his, my mum. Telling her was the worst thing I have ever had to do. Over the telephone. Distant. Hugless.

What a shit disease this is.

You don’t want it. You don’t want anyone who you love, or have any feelings for, to get it. It is a nasty, vicious, unpredictable disease. And we have no idea what the long term effects are for those who suffer with it. Avoid it. Wear a mask in public places, no matter what the government say or how stupid you feel you look.

Keep your distance, but stay close to those you love. Life is tenuous at the moment. Treat it with reverence; guard it like a newborn child. And hug. And talk.

And love.

RIP Kevin.

Not good news

I thought I’d rattle this off now because time is, I think, not on my side. Kevin took a turn for the worse overnight and we are expecting bad news sometime soon. There are bits of gory details I could include, but I won’t burden you with the detail. It’s all pretty horrible.

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very lucky to have The Three Brooks two minutes from us

Other than that we have kept our routine – not that there’s a great deal of latitude to break it. Run, walk, potter, do some weeding, eat, telly and bed. We’re watching ‘Quiz’ on ITV at the mo. It resonates with us because we remember the incident well, it’s about a major in the Army and we were avid watches of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire at that point. It’s worth a watch. Of course Killing Eve 3 is now streaming on iPlayer. It’s a favourite of ours, but I’m not sure it’s Mary’s cup of tea. Never mind … something for later. And we are into The Man In The High Castle, which is on Prime. That’s well made and interesting in a dystopian sort of way. And I have been banished to the van to watch Ozark. Too much swearing. I do love it.

I have a day’s virtual work tomorrow with the MoD that I intend to stick to regardless. Outside contact is important and people want to connect … and I’d like to think I provide a service which fills a gap – we are suffering a little with working from home, so I’m determined to help where I can. The money (still cheap as a plumber @ £40/hr) helps.

And, other than that? Well it’s a waiting game. Kevin on one hand and a ‘book thing’ on the other. Whatever the outcome of either of those I will let you know, good or bad. Some may find it odd that I continue to report whatever the circumstances. It’s a fair point, but I do consider this to be as much a diary as a newsletter. I often look back at individual posts from years back (yes it’s been almost 6 years) and smile to myself as it all floods back.

Keep safe everyone.

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Mary and her Easter bonnet

Muddling through

KevRep. We were expecting the worst over the last couple of days. Georgina, Kev’s eldest daughter, phoned to say that a nurse had phoned her and said that, because a lung x-ray had shown no improvement, they might consider taking him off the ventilator with the obvious outcome. That hasn’t happened. Indeed, they did take him off on Thursday to see if he could breath on his own, but stuck him straight back on. In short: one step forward, one step back. I have to say that I go to bed each night expecting the terrible phone call. And, if I think about it, the whole thing does my head in.

As for Mum, bless her, she’s all over the place. We have someone going in three times a week and that keeps her in essentials (food and white wine). I’m speaking to her three or four times a day and it’s really tough. For both of us. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be on the precipice of losing a child, even if he is 62.

All of this needs to be put in context of where the country finds itself. It seems anathema to me that as we breech 1000 deaths a day (if you include those outside of hospitals) much of the mainstream news is focused on one man’s successful fight against the disease. I absolutely wish BJ a full recovery. But I also want to see glimmers that the government are doing more than just getting by. I think it’s accepted that, as we look to by pass Spain and Italy in the deaths stakes, we came at this too little, too late. That to one side, someone in the centre needs to give us the confidence, through honest – even if they hurt – facts and figures, backed up with an achievable plan. I don’t get that. To be honest all I get is adjectives and adverbs when what I really want is nouns and numbers. It is also, I think, honest to say that the two countries coping with this the worst (US and UK) are led by popularist governments. Give me a boring, uncharismatic centrist any day. I’ve had enough of flag waving and bunting.

Anyway, how are we? (Clearly a bit frustrated and miserable.)

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Happy simnel cake day

OK, I think. I had a day’s virtual work with the MoD on Thursday, which was good. I popped to Tesco on Thursday evening, which was the second most stressful thing I have

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queuing up in the war zone that is Tesco …

ever done (the first was the same thing, the same time last week). I know it sounds ridiculous, but I felt less anxious patrolling the streets of Kabul then I do foraging the aisles of a superstore.

To add to the excitement we, that is much of the street, had a sewer blockage on Thursday. Bless Wessex Water. They were on it quickly enough and within 24 hours our back garden was no longer awash with poop and stuff. It didn’t take long to sort, and it will do the grass some good.

Finally, and you only have until 7pm on Sunday, log onto YouTube and watch Jesus Christ Superstar. Along with the National Theatre (we’re not great play people), Andrew Lloyd Webber’s channel is screening free stuff. There’s no indication what musical will be on next weekend, but when I find out I’ll let you know.

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Tim Minchin, as Judas … fabulous

Oh … and I did some editing of Blood Red Earth. My first beta reader has cone back and has a number of comments, one of which wasn’t – this is rubbish. So that’s good.

Keep safe. Stay at home. And don’t let the government spin you that 1,000 deaths a day for the next week is a job well done. It isn’t.

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getting older and slower by the day