Roland Ladley's Blog, page 30

As you were

First, no new news on my brother, Kevin. He’s still ‘under’, still on a ventilator and still in for the long haul. Like BJ (bless him), but apparently BJ’s not yet ‘under’, although I have to say I struggle to believe the government’s spin. In the time of immediate social media there is no place to hide. Just give us the truth – please. If BJ is incapacitated then let’s get someone else in charge … this is not the time to be on the Titanic without a captain.

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An incongruous picture under the circumstances … but it’s not against the rules

Sorry, but it isn’t. Bad news doesn’t get better with age. Treat us like grown ups; because this thing impacts on all of us.

And us? Well thank goodness for Mrs Sun who has, pretty much, been with us throughout. Our very small garden is looking the best it has ever been. Doris is just as clean and, wistfully, I’ve been toying with replacing the three 110AH lead acid habitation batteries with Lithium Iron (not Ion) ones. Replacing lead acid with similar is a cost of around £400. Lithium Iron Phosphate come in three times that for the same capacity, but they should last the life of the van. The advantages are: you can charge and discharge them without fear of breaking them, so using the large invertor wouldn’t be an issue (you can’t charge them below freezing, apparently, but the inbuilt battery management system should sort that out for you); they last many thousands of charge cycles as opposed to a couple of hundred; and they are half the weight. Disadvantage: cost – between £1200 and £1500, capacity for capacity. I’m waiting to see what the financial outcome is for us post-pandemic. If things are OK, then we might go down this route.

Books? Well there’s some stuff going on which I can’t divulge. Like all of my ‘potentials’ this will likely come to nothing and I will know in the next 10 days or so. If it comes off, then I’ll be super pleased. If not – business as usual. As I’ve said before, 2020 is my year. I intend to throw some money at marketing and see what happens. Indeed, if it wasn’t for this ‘potential’ I would be ramping things up now, but I’m not going to do anything in a rush. Now seems like a good time to be pushing ebooks … and I feel terrible for even mentioning that in light of the crisis. But, in some ways I would be providing a service.

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all belongs to me now – yippee!

Interestingly, as a result of all this, I got in touch with Amazon Publishing and they have reverted the e-rights of Fuelling the Fire back to me from 10 April. The original contract said five years, which is 2021, but – and I’m not surprised as there doing nothing with the book and earning very little – on enquiry, they came straight back to me and said I could have the ebook rights back straight away. Good. From Friday I own everything again. It’s a great feeling.

The three of us (me, C and Mary) are rubbing along quite nicely. The house hasn’t got any bigger since I last wrote, but we are managing. I’ve yet to get Mary to enjoy Ozark but, bless her, she watches dutifully [we have night-on, night-off telly … everyone gets their chance]. We’re still exercising and still eating and drinking sensibly. I’ve been dry now for three weeks and have drunk very little since the beginning of March. I don’t miss it at all, and I’m not sure I will drink again. We’ll see.

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Spring 1 – Coronavirus 0

And for the rest of the week? We thought we may just stay at home. I’ve got a long session of virtual consultancy on Thursday, but other than that it’s business as usual. I will venture to the shops (fully togged up, of course), probably one evening this week. Other than that?

Keep safe everyone. It’s a more dangerous disease than many of us realise. You do not want it.

KevRep

Well done for getting through the first couple of weeks. It has not been without effort, for sure. First, my poor old brother: KevRep. He was hooked up to a ventilator within a couple of hours of him arriving at the hospital (for the second time). His last words were a call to me: ‘I’m going under’. That’s all I got. Five days later and he’s still ‘under’. The prognosis from the consultant (we’re getting updates from his daughter) is that he’s stable, his liver and kidney functions are ok, but the pneumonia is pretty awful. There is a possibility he will be on a ventilator for weeks, maybe ‘months’ – and that is not sustainable. I need say no more. It’s all pretty sh*tty, and must be terrible for him, although I guess he’s out of it and doesn’t know what’s going on. So, we’re in for the long haul. At least he’s not one of the awful statistics that keep going up and up for the UK.

We’re coping. I think all three of us have had our ‘God, this is a small house’, moment. We’re sharing TV in the evenings – with Sunday being a communal day of Antiques Roadshow and Belgravia. I’m happy when it’s my turn – Season Three of Ozark on Netflix

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it is the apocalypse …

has arrived and I love it. Think a more adult version of Breaking Bad and you have it. I’m running 6/7 days and still doing situps and pressups. C’s still running every second day and we go out with Mary for a potter pretty much daily.

We’ve finished next door’s garden, I’ve done some stuff with Doris and I had a pretty full day of distance consultancy on Thursday with the MoD. I’ve been asked to consider some Zoom presentations on compassionate leadership, which I will talk to the boss about next Thursday. There’s some book work going on which I will update you in due course. And we are eating sensibly.

Of course, the rhinoceros in the room is the disease. Thankfully we, the UK, are now taking it seriously, albeit a couple of weeks late. And I’m glad to hear that Keir Starmer (thank goodness, an adult in the room) might be asked to join COBR. I also don’t think His Borisness is very well. Having seen the way my brother looked on WhatsApp on Sunday afternoon before his precipitous fall, BJ looked just as bad a couple of days ago on one of his uplifting chats. We’ll see.

The real sadness is that many more people are going to die. My brother … for example. Or indeed me or you. I shopped at Tesco on Friday, togged up to the nines, but I could have picked it up regardless. At least now I know what to really look out for.

What next? Well, I’m waiting for my beta readers to come back with their comments. And I have some other book stuff to do. I guess we’ve got little choice but to watch the complete Prime and Netflix back catalogue.

I might just do that.

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next door’s looking a bit better now

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Stay safe

I’m posting this early as I’m not sure when or what I will post again. I told you about my brother on Sunday. In short he’s had a rough couple of days and this evening he’s been re-admitted into hospital. All the indications are that he has COVID-19. He’s on ‘a breathing machine’, is very poorly and might have to go into ICU if he doesn’t improve anytime soon. C and I think that means he’s not yet on a ventilator, but that is his next move. Nobody can see him; thankfully his two unmarried, grown up daughters are together in his house. I guess, if the tests come back positive on Kevin, it will mean that they have it as well. That’s how this seems to work.

The next hours and, hopefully days, will be critical and I hope, beyond hope, that I can post again soon with some more positive news.

[Postscript. Just had a text from Kevin (two hours after I published this). It reads:

No AMG logos. Definitely have civic-19. Forcing as much O2 inside my body feeling like a barrage balloon. 

He’s still got a sense of humour.]

Other than that we are fine. Normal routine of run, adminy stuff, TV and repeat. We are working on next door neighbour’s garden. She an elderly, Portuguese NHS cleaner who moved here because she was being racially abused in some other borough in Bristol. She’s a bit scatty, has yet to sort out her boxes and her back garden is a mess. C and I decided that, as it’s the same size as ours – ie, no bigger than a medium-sized envelope, we would deweed it for her. We started that this afternoon. We should be finished tomorrow.

The message then is stay safe. Please. If you don’t know someone who’s suffering with the virus, you do now. The next three weeks are going to be tough – for all of us. But isolation is not that tough? Staying at home for you – I guess if you’re reading this you have a roof over your head, essential supplies and internet connection – is not a trial. Anne Franks lived in an attic for two years and then did stints in Auschwitz and Belsen before dying of Typhoid. I’m sure we can all manage a couple of months … write a diary, maybe? If that doesn’t work, what about Terry Waite?

Sorry for the lecture. But that’s how I feel.  Hopefully my usual bonhomie will return soon.

Speak soon. And look after yourselves.

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before …

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Feeling older than my years

I’d like to say that we, the three of us, have settled into a routine of sorts. But it’s not been that simple, certainly for me. Over the past couple of days I’ve had very regular chats with my older brother. He has not been well, displaying many of the traits of Covid-19. He started with an irritable cough, he’s had the fever and huge tiredness and has finished with an almighty headache, so much so he was collected by ambulance on Friday night only to be released later after an x-ray (but no coronavirus test) with a bucketful of antibiotics. He has, according to the hospital, a chest infection … but not one

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Spring might be here … but it’s difficult to get excited

bad enough to be detained. As at this morning he still has the headache, but is feeling slightly better.

When he was admitted on Friday both me and his army corporal daughter, who is staying with him, expected the worse. It was a relief when he was discharged … and more so late yesterday when we had a WhatsApp video call and he was sat up in bed. I don’t think we’re through this yet, but it’s certainly more positive than a couple of days ago.

There are plenty of horror stories out there; people’s relatives dying alone because they can’t visit them. And, notwithstanding the impact on his family, if Kevin had been really poorly, the issue of having to let mum know would have joined that list. Do I go and see her? Is that wise, or indeed, allowed under the current circumstances? Thankfully, that doesn’t look like an option, but I was looking at it from every angle. We might end up as one of the lucky ones. Whatever, we must all do our very best to stay safe – for everyone’s sake.

Wasn’t the NHS clapping thing on Thursday night uplifting? Most of our little close came out. And, with that, we’ve all got closer here, whilst remaining two metres apart. It is an oddly nice feeling against a background of some real unpleasantness.  And, thankfully, here in the west Mrs Sun has continued to brown our knees albeit today with a pretty nasty cold wind. If it starts to rain any time soon, I can see how people’s moods might drop further.

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But, we’re ok. I’m running every morning – short and sharp. C’s running every other day, more long and dawdly. We’re taking Mary out once a day, which I know is two forms of exercise, but we are being hyper-careful. I’ve finished edit 3 of Blood Red Earth, and I am already thinking about the plot for book 7. I’m going to go Eastern European, possibly Balkans based. I’m not much further ahead than that. Anyhow, the current book has gone to my beta readers – and that’s always a test, because I’m never sure it’s good enough.

Apart from that, we’re coping. I did four remote consultancy sessions with the MoD on Thursday and I have the same thing lined up for this week. That appears to be working OK. And, pro bono, I am working with a couple of teachers from the school in Surrey. They have, rightly, stopped all non-essential work as, I guess with any private school, they’re looking at a massive drop in income if the schools don’t manage to gather for the summer term. I feel for them.

I hope you are all keeping sane and safe. We are lucky. We have a roof over our heads, money and enough room to get away from each other (especially as we have Doris). For those of you less fortunate, sorry and best of luck. I hope this thing passes as soon as it can.

Till Wednesday.

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it was my birthday on Friday. I feel a lot older than my years …

On my bike soon?

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is it all that bad?

So, His Donaldness thinks it will be over in the next couple of weeks and Americans will be filling the church pews on Easter Sunday, the day that Jesus was purported to have died. I think I’d have plumped for Easter Monday, and at least made the resurrection connection. Apparently, to Donald, Easter is very special. Well if you look at New York city and see the dystopian outlook there you’d think they’d be lucky to be making it to the grocers two weeks on Sunday, let alone their local church in their Sunday best – unless it was a Jonestown type scenario. His line is based on the fact that more people will die (suicides, etc) if the country heads for a ‘depression’, should the economy collapse, than might die from COVID-19. I’m no expert, so can’t really comment. But I sense that consciously allowing people to die because the alternative might just happen to be worse, seems at best a poor choice. At worst, immoral. We’ll see.

Here, of course, we are all now locked down. Although, we’re not, are we? You can go to work if you can’t work from home. There was a leaf blower out yesterday when I went for my now habitual ‘beat the virus’, early morning, short run. A leaf blower? Really? Insofar as action we are still behind the curve and, bearing in mind we’ve been able to watch other nations make choices (and mistakes), I can’t understand why we’ve not just pulled up the drawbridge and eaten our way through the freezer. Maybe BJ is hoping for some herd immunity? Maybe the more people work, the less the government has to pay out? Maybe he’s right? If he’s not and we end up with an Italian-type scenario when we had two weeks grace to read the writing on the wall, I have to say I think that’s a lot of unnecessary dead people. But, again, I am not an expert.

And what have we been up to?

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Mary is with us and that’s working. C and I’ve have cleaned the outside of Doris to an inch of her life. We’ve done other admin type stuff and generally finished all the main jobs that are out there, which means we’ll be twiddling our thumbs for the next ten weeks (or so). I am almost finished edit 3 of book 6 – now titled Blood Red Earth. I should be done with that by the weekend and then it’s over to my revitalised beta readers for their views. My narrator has just had a baby (well done Sorrel!), so that’s on hold – we did know that was coming; it wasn’t difficult to miss. And I have some remote coaching with the MoD tomorrow – which is nice.

And I’ve signed up for the NHS ‘volunteer army’, one of now over 250,000. The jobs include driving supplies around and phoning ‘at risk’ people. I’m hoping to get a job that allows me to zoom around on my trike. I do need to be careful … both C and Mary are ‘at risk’ themselves, so I can’t afford to catch anything. But I couldn’t not apply.

Hope you aren’t driving yourselves or anyone else completely bonkers. It’s a tough time, but we should persevere. Keep sane. And safe.

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Next, we should do better

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happy mothers’ day, everyone

Just under forty years ago I was the Battalion’s duty officer on Christmas Eve. My duties, which included administering a tot of rum to the soldiers still in the barracks on Christmas morning in Colchester, were hardly onerous. At 9 am on Christmas morning an now life-long pal of mine, Phil Jones – sorry, now retired Lt Gen Phil Jones CB, turned up to take over the duty. We had a glass of rum ourselves and, because he’s a thoughtful man and I am not, he handed me a Christmas pressie and I gave him nothing in return (sorry Phil). I can’t for the life of me remember what his pressie was, but it was almost certainly alcoholic. We said our farewells and I got in my MGB roadster and, ever the bees knees and looking fabulous, drove like a lunatic back home to Hampshire for mum’s Christmas lunch.

At the height of the largest peacetime crisis since the Great Depression, why do I mention this now? Well, today I drove to Godalming to pick up Mary. She’s had a bit of  life recently and we are, in effect, her next of kin. And she hates being on her own … and, now in the vulnerable category and unable to leave the house, we decided she should come and stay – indefinitely. Originally it was to be just before Easter. And then the nasty virus thing ramped up a bit and I brought that date forward to Tuesday. And then, last night as I checked the graph of where we were against coronavirus deaths in Italy, it was clear to me that His Borisness would soon have to put us all on proper lockdown (about two weeks late if you ask me), and then Mary would be stuck. So, this morning I got in the car and drove to Surrey, helped her pack and brought her back. Two has now become three in our small house (he says penning this in Doris – thank goodness for our little white holiday cottage by the M4/M5 junction).

But, still. Why the Christmas story. Well, because when I drove back from Colchester along the A12, through the centre of London (there was no M25) and then the A3 – both dual carriageways – I literally floored it and took the shortist route, cutting the apex off corners from slow to fast lanes at will. Why? Because I could and … the traffic was non-existent. It was Christmas, after all. Today wasn’t quite the same, but I have to say I have never seen the M4 so empty. It was Christmas 1982 all over again. Extraordinary.

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the M4 – could be Christmas 1982

And, thus, we start on a brand new chapter in all of our lives. If we follow the Italian model, and looking at the way we have approached this, both governmentally and individually, with people still not understanding the severity of it all, I think we will, we are in for a tough time in the next fortnight. I’m sorry to say.

It would be churlish of me to point fingers … and I’m not going to.

So, on a positive note my advice to the government.

First, make COBR cross-party. Rope in Gordon Brown (who successfully got us through the 2008 financial crisis) and other ex-PMs who have been through the mill. I’m not suggesting a unity government, but I am suggesting that BJ widens the committee. What has he got to lose?

Second, get the medal office to start working on franking a gong for the NHS. They are on their own version of a military operational tour, where the enemy is an unseen terrorist. Every hospital worker should get a medal.

And third, if there isn’t a cross-party lessons learnt group, put one together now. There are plenty of MPs and senior military who have nothing else better to do. And I don’t just mean get them to look at how we deal with the next pandemic, although that will be key. We are all doing things differently. Government is spending money differently. We are living our lives differently. The planet is performing and reacting to those changes, mostly in a positive way. Let’s understand now, before this things ends and we all go back to the capitalism which is ruining the future for our children, what positive outcomes stem from the pandemic. And then, with big hearts and deep pockets, continue them. It may be a 50% reduction in air travel. Or paying everyone a minimum wage. Or increasing state benefits. Or … I don’t know. But unless some bright people ask the question we’ll continue to pound this planet into the ground and live lives less fulfilling.

That’s my advice.

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guttering 1 – coronavirus 0

Keep safe … and keep you distance.

Coronavirus 1 – Scotland 0

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we made it far as Gretna …

We’re back. We made it as far as Gretna Green and then His Borisness made the announcement that ‘unnecessary travel’ was not to happen and, no matter which way we looked at it, we thought pottering around Scotland was probably a touch unnecessary. So, yesterday, we drove back home and unpacked the huge amount of kit and food … and today we’re back to normal. I think there may be one or two of you out there who presented with the same choice might have said ‘sod it’ and continued north, but we tend to do as we’re instructed – it’s a bit of a failing.

It also gives us time to think about others. My mum is ok. She’s been self-isolating since dad died last year, with a couple of carers popping in three times a week to check she’s ok. It works for her and should be ok provided the carers don’t get sick. As we showed last week we couldn’t be in the same house for any length of time without it ending in tears: coronavirus has nothing on the impact of mum, me and C being in the same small space for more than couple of days. How we survived four days at Christmas is a mystery to me. I take as much responsibility for this as mum … we are quite similar.

We will, however, have Mary down here for as long as it takes. She’s in the ‘at risk’ category and on her own. I think we’ll let this develop for a bit, make sure none of us are ill and then go and pick her up …

… that’s if BJ doesn’t completely lock us down. Which I am sure will come. Our government has been playing catch up continuously. I repeat (briefly) my point from last time. We should lock the whole place down for two weeks (as they are in France, Italy, Spain and Italy) and see what happens to the numbers. For me, it doesn’t matter where you are on the virus’s cycle; indeed, the earlier you curfew the more lives you’d save? But, I am not an epidemiologist so, seriously, what do I know? And if you look outside of your window there are still plenty of people wandering around – and BJ’s dad (did you see that on the news yesterday?) saying he was still going down the pub. Whatever next? In short: if you don’t order people to do it, there are plenty of them who won’t. And they will carry the disease – and any effect you’re after will be lost.

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isolation workout! (I have already been for a run.)

Anyhow. It is, let’s face it, a new world order. Things will not be the same for a long time. Hopefully lessons will be learnt. If we survive without aircraft filling the skies, then maybe we don’t need them? And if we can find billions for the NHS in an emergency, then why not make it happen all the time? Etc.

And, whilst I was unpacking Doris yesterday I had a flash of the future. We live off a pension, rental income and some consultancy income. By any average standards we are very well off. We could survive (just – we have mortgages) if the houses were empty – or full of tenants who can’t pay, or on small rents. That’s fine. [Indeed I had a conversation with our longest sitting tenant today about how she was and whether she could cope … she will keep in touch.]  If that were the case we could rent out our current house, move into Doris and push off round Europe for a couple of years.

Mmm. Sound familiar? Been there … loved it. I had visions of a ponytail, tie-dye, fraying shorts and an all-over tan. And that’s C. Maybe I’d follow suit?

And before I say that wouldn’t be a bad solution, can I reach out to any of you who are struggling with the whole virus nightmare, for whatever reason. No words of encouragement will do. Just stay safe. Please.

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smiling, even though we’re heading home

Stay safe

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change of clothes. Scotland here we come

You’ll have guessed by now that we’re not off to Spain. Or France. I don’t think we could, even if we wanted, what with the borders semi-closed and all. We have discussed not going anywhere and hunkering down, hoping for this thing to blow over. But, in the end, we have plumped for Scotland. We usually go at Easter, so this year will be no different, except we’re hoping to disappear for 6 weeks which is longer than usual. It has meant a major change of clothes and, whilst it will be fun it’s hardly going to brown our knees. Which is a shame … could have done with some of Mrs Sun. (And we’re not taking the trike … we are unlikely to get much use out of it what with the weather ‘n all.)

And here we are. Humankind versus the coronavirus. I have, as you’d expect, done a lot of reading over the past couple of weeks and I have followed what our government is doing against a firsthand account from South Korea and secondhand stuff from the rest of the world. If we leave the USA to one side, because currently it is being run by an orange moron, we are – the UK – clearly approaching this differently from everyone else. I have tried to fathom out why.

I don’t get the herd immunity approach. I do, that is I know that when we immunise at least 95% of the population against measles then we are as a nation classified as ‘immune’. I get that (although, we are currently no longer immune to measles because of the no-vaccination  brigade). But the idea that 60% of us should get it – over time – to slow the spread, flatten the curve and maybe prevent a major epidemic forever, baffles me. For a start, it’s 60% and not 95%. That’s a 35% difference. Second normal flu mutates, hence the vulnerable are vaccinated every winter … so having 60% of the population immune may be all well and good for now, but what about later? Next year? The year after? And when did the government say we should all get the flu so that we can eradicate it? Never, as far as I’m aware. Third, with a mortality rate of 1% (as high as 6% in Italy), if 60% of us get it then that would mean the total number of deaths in the UK would be 420,000. There goes Bristol – all of it.  Even if the mortality rate is 0.1%, that’s still a lot of dead people.

So, do the government want me to get it? If so, when? What happens if I don’t want it?

I’m am obviously overstating a very complicated model which is, itself, hugely nuanced. And clearly there are some behavioural and economic factors which need to be taken into consideration. However: the Ladley solution is to close the whole world for 14 days. Let’s say next Tuesday – give everyone time to bulk buy the essentials. Then everyone, everywhere stays at home. A few essential services run and ambulances prowl the roads looking for really ill people. They are taken to hospitals. Within 14 days the virus has done its worse and infected only those of the same household, many of whom can self-isolate in bedrooms and get fed through makeshift airlocks. Any virus left on any surface has now died. Anyone with the virus has either been cured or been transferred to a quarantine hospital. Job done.

That is, in effect, what they’ve done in parts of China and in some parts of South Korea, where everyone has an App on their phone – anyone ill is immediately tested and, if positive, they are marked in red accordingly. Our Rebecca can track infected people. And, wait for it, everyone can see everyone else. And if there’s a red person, they can be avoided. The Czech Republic are doing the same sort of thing, but without the technology. All borders are closed.

In  short, every other country is trying to prevent the spread of the virus – which may well be a problem once they reopen their borders, unless the world is fixed – but they are really trying hard to stop people from becoming ill. No herd immunisation. Prevent the spread, get it sorted, find a vaccine and then jab everyone.

Why are we different? I dunno. But, until told by His Borisness that he wants me and C to catch the virus on a certain day (I have a patch on my lungs and C is an ex-smoker, so he better have enough ICU beds) we’re washing our hands like they’re, well, covered in a deadly virus. And tomorrow we’re pushing off to the Scottish Highlands away from the sneezing people in Lidl’s (C has just reported) and the people invading our personal space. And we’ve told our more elderly relatives and friends what Monsieur Macron told his people yesterday: if you’re over 70, stay indoors. Sounds like good advice to me.

So why aren’t we getting that?

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my consulting face

For the record I worked in the MoD on Thursday and C and I popped up to see Mum and came back late last night. She’s as batty and prickly as ever – but we all survived.

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mum, bless her

The Highlands tomorrow then. In the meantime, stay safe everyone. Look after yourself and your loved ones. You cannot be too overprotective.

Left or right?

We’re at a bit of junction. Turn left and next week we will cross the channel (towing the trike) and head south to find Mrs Sun. Turn right and we hunker down and see out the corona virus pandemic. I think we’ve made up our minds, in that we will aim to go but if

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had a practice of putting bike on trailer – on my own. Works a treat

this country or Spain or France are in lock down, then we will think again. C’s talking about maybe heading to Scotland or Pembrokeshire if that’s the case. We’ll see.

I finish work tomorrow. I’ve just had seven days with the school and, even if I say so myself, that went rather well. It was tough (three 7.30pm finishes, and I was in every day for 7.45 am) and the reports took their toll. But it’s done. For the military think 12 OJARs, each at least a page and a half long … one or two, two and a half pages. All evidential (I don’t know the 12, so I have to find out), peppered with quotes and all with ‘areas of improvement’. Monday, face-to-face with the 12, was tough. But I managed it. I am now waiting on feedback, although verbally the noises were all good.

I’m with the MoD tomorrow and then we’re driving to Mum’s until Saturday … and then a day or so getting our poop in a sock before we follow FCO advice on whether or not we can travel. In some ways we will sort of be ‘self isolating’ in Doris. I like that idea.

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I drank the school out of mint tea

Sorrel (Unsuspecting Hero‘s narrator) has done a fab job of the first part of the prologue. I think her voice is enchanting and she really creates an atmosphere. However, whilst my s-i-l, James, can edit out the background hiss, currently our rig keeps ‘crackling’ every so often, which he can’t sort. So we’re working on that. What I will do is once I have something done I will post it here so you can listen to it. Once the book’s published on Audible I will take it off, but by then those of you who want to listen to it should have had a chance to hear the whole book. I’ll let you know.

That’s it from me. We’re currently binge watching Ozark on Netflix. Fab US black drama with a hint of comedy. Loving it.

 

Till Sunday.

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I stayed with a pal of mine, Kenn, on Monday. He’s into house sitting. Some sits are more fun than others!

The clock is ticking …

The news from Surrey (we got back from there on Friday night) is that Waitrose had run out of pork joints. Plenty of loos rolls; no pork joints. I think that sums up Godalming to a tee. Here, back in the southwest and having popped into Lidl earlier, it seems that we have yet to fall for the corona virus panic; C was able to pick up a couple of packets of paracetamol without an issue. Hurrah for us!

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me, walking around Lidl keeping my statutory 1 metre from all other shoppers …

It was a tough week at the school and, whilst I have written the 360 degree reports and dispatched them to the individuals, I won’t really know if I’ve made a difference until I meet with them individually tomorrow. That’s another v early start – and I am staying with my mate Kenn tomorrow night, and then back to the school to finish off on Tuesday. If all goes well, I might be up for some more reporting (I’ve only completed 8/24 heads of department and 4/8 houseparents). We’ll see. I have to say that, bearing in mind I’ve had some pretty late nights, the school is getting a bit of a bargain. But, knowing me, I won’t change my fee.

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boot fixed – tick

And Doris is back together again. I think we have no leaks into the garage. There was the tiniest bit of moisture in one of the four corners (after all that horrible rain) and I sense that that might have been residual damp held in the woodwork making its way down by gravity. I covered the work in a way that I can check, so I’ll keep an eye.

We are … almost … getting excited. Six weeks holiday in Doris is something to look forward to. And provided they don’t quarantine the places we’re travelling to/through (poor old Italy) it’s going to be fun. We are going to be pulling the trike (yikes!) and we’re heading for the sunshine. There are no other rules. Everyone else better get out of your way, we have 4.5 tonnes of Hymermobile and nothing is going to stop us.

I’m over half way reading book 6 (still no name) to C. I think the verdict at the moment is that is v complicated. Hmmm. My books are all interweaving plots and multiple characters, but she might have a point. The question I need to answer is whether or not I throw it across to my beta-readers now and ask them the same question … or take a knife to it and then ask them to read it. It is a complex plot, made more so because it’s based in the Far East (all those unpronounceable names). I’ll make that call soon.

So … leaving aside the slight anxiety of a major pandemic chasing us around Europe (and, clearly, nervous for our friends and family), I’m working Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. We’re off to Mum’s On Thursday evening, back Saturday. And our ambition is to catch a ferry from Dover in the early hours of Monday morning. Look for a white splodge masked by a cloud of unburnt diesel! Hurrah!

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a week to go …