Wednesday 13th March 2024

Four years ago, the world changed.

Football got cancelled, as did most sport, as did entertainment, though pub, bars and restaurants were allowed to remain open for another 10 days thanks to Johnson's dithering.

Those were some dark days, made worse for me as I re-read those posts seeing how well I forecast things would be, and turned out.

That Friday afternoon, after my journey down from North Wales, along almost deserted motorways back to Kent, was how to fill the voids in afternoons and evenings left by having no football.

Even worse wehn radio too began to be affected, and recorded shows became the norm.

If we knew what was coming, would that weekend have been harder to bear?

Like most things in life, we coped.

The nation coped.

Despite of the actions of Johnson and his Government.

News on the COVID enquiry has gone quiet, but we have learned that the Government did not follow all the science, just the science that suited them. Then griftd billions in "VIP Lane" PPE contracts. Estimates vary on how much money was wasted, there are no official figures as that would have to come from the gifters. But tens of billions of pounds, just vanished. Thirty seven billion on Dido Harding's Test and Trace system which never worked. And she has not been seen for months. And her husband, the old ant-corruption tsar.

The anniversay went pretty much unremarked on the things I listen to or watch, but my blogs record the chaos and madness of the pandemic.

Meanwhile.

Spring, if not here already is pretty close.

In two weeks daylight will equal darkness, and with each day, more flowers either bloom or sprout afresh from the soil.

Being Wednesday, Jools was back home, though had chores to run, as the tip runs come more frequent as old and tired furniture is sent to the MFI in sky, and we scour Ikea for new stuff.

The back office is now bare, walls mostly painted, but needs new carpet and then shelving and a chair to make Jools feels at home when I listen to the football downstairs.

So, she is gone at eight, and after tip onto the Romney Marsh to drop off her working desk for stripping and recoating.

Meaning I was home all day.

There is work, and outside the rain had failed to come at least for one day.

I have been checking the pond pretty much every day since the beginning of February for spawn, with no luck.

I saw frogs, a couple of weeks back three engaged in apparent mating, then on Tuesday I saw what I assumed to be a pregnant female just below the surface.

Wednesday morning, just after sunrise, I checked and she was engaged in laying eggs.

So, Spring is here. Soon the air will be filled with the sound of dozens of froglets.

Reddit.

She came home for lunch, we ate together, then she did more stuff while I applied the finishing touches to my audit report and its presentation at the end of the day.

As a treat, a railtour was due to come through east Kent, though due to reasons, the Royal Scot was not coming, and the Class 40 wasn't either.

So, an hour late, I went down to Martin Mill, climbed down the underpass and onto the down platform, so when the tour came the other way I could get shots, and more as it powered up Guston Bank.

It hoved into view soundlessly, but its headlights shining bright, I rattled off shots as she entered the station and carried on towards Dover.

88 shots in a few seconds, and for once I had the camera on the right settings.

Back home quickly so Jools could go and try a new "bounce" class, while I would stay home and entertain the cats, and have focaccia toasted, then dipped into olive oil.

Yummy.

And wine, of course.

There was football in the evening, though we went to bed at nine. Tired, and not just because I had finished the bottle of Vin Santos.

Ahem.