The summary of the rest of this post, is that, the best case scenario is that the UK failed to participate in the EU's procurement scheme because that the invitation arrived via e mail and went into the junk folder, so was missed. That it was missed, hundreds perhaps thousands of people died due to lack of equipment.
Sir Simon McDonald, head of the UK's Mission to the EU (now the UK is no longer a member state), was quizzed by a Select Committee, and undre cross-examination stated that the decision not to join previous rounds of the procurement program was a "political decision".
This statement confirmed rumours and a large amount of circumstantial evidence that this was the case.
The BBC did not report on this, right away.
But news came from Whitehall that a clarification letter from Sir Simon was coming.
Three hours later, it arrived, and it said in four paragraphs that he had got this 180 degree wrong.
But.
And there is a huge but.
This morning the EU confirmed that at the end of March that the UK formally invited.
And.
Well, a few months ago, there was a Twitter meme along the lines of "if you werre kidnapped but still allowed to Tweet,m what would you say to alert friends?"
In this I lean heavily of David Allen Green, former Government lawyer and has worked in Government procurement; this letter shows signs of it being heavily negotiated, and the language used, using long sentences where short ones will do, and stating the UK Mission rather than Sivil Service, shows how language was being used to hide some greater truth.
This all might be true, or not.
The Government is now run and advised by those who ran the Vote Leave campaign, who lied and broke the law back in 2016, and have not apologised or been charged, as it is they who are in control now of the evidence.
"There is something either falling in the gaps between the sentences or being cloaked by the definitions (eg Scheme) used, but that is not the natural way for a civil servant to make such a "clarification" That wording has been negotiated to the point of strangulation. Each sentence of that letter may well be strictly correct, though some phrases seem vague. There is something falling through the gaps. That letter savours of evasion and misdirection. The supposed "clarification" has made things far more unclear. To take one example
Why write: "Ministers were not briefed by our mission in Brussels about the scheme"
Instead of: "Ministers were not briefed about the scheme"
Or even: "Ministers were not aware of the scheme"
Longer sentences do not happen by accident in such formal documents. A similar approach can be employed for almost every proposition in the letter. And that is odd: for a skilled wordsmith like a senior civil servant would usually make such a forensic approach difficult. Something is up here. It's like a coded cry for help from someone kidnapped. And why in paragraph 2 does he go for scheme (singular) but switch to the four schemes (plural) for the comms excuse in paragraph 3? In casual writing, it would not matter. But here, it means para 2 and para 3 are about slightly different things. A Derren Brown-like misdirection" https://twitter.com/davidallengreen/status/1252683231981338626
Wednesday, 22 April 2020
Tuesday, 21 April 2020
Monday 20th April 2020
It is summer.
If is official.
From the bathroom window, we can see in the direction of the Dover Patrol Monument. It is obscured behind a mature tree, in the winter you can see through the leafless branches. But in Spring and through the end of October, the monument is hidden by the tree. At some point last week, the monument was lost to view.
It is, therefore, summer.
And it also was Monday.
The cats brought in at least two mice (other small mammals are also available), made a huge noise about it, then ate said rodents, crunching bones. Then got up on the bed to wash in a noisy and disruptive way, before curling up and going to sleep, purring.
Its good to be a cat.
It is also good to be us, if the worse thing I can say about the situation is that there are some orchids unphotographed by me.
We have our jobs. Our health. The cats. And each other.
We get up, and do our early morning thing. Jools makes coffee, does a session on the cross trainer and once dressed, goes out for a walk.
I do a session on the cross trainer too. And I can report that my i pod is deader than flares. Bugger. So, an alternative needs to be be found.
News as we get it.
Jools goes to work, I get dressed and set up the office.
And the good news is that we are all still well too, which is really good. And in Denmark things are starting to open; shops, schools, but no pubs.
And then, on to work. And another meeting.
And then work.
Outside, the wind did blow, but the sun also did shine, so it looked warm and springlike, but felt like February. But I didn't put the heating on. Instead I promised I would after my second work out.
That done, time for a shower, change and then one final check on the mails before packing up and planning on dinner: chicken and prawn stir fry. For which I refuse wine or beer and have orange squash instead.
This is because on Sunday I had beer, then two glasses of wine and then the two bottle of barley wine. A lot of booze.
So, none on Monday at least.
We have coffee in the evening, listen to some tunes, and are away to bed again at nine.
This is what a lack of football brings, early nights and early rises.
If is official.
From the bathroom window, we can see in the direction of the Dover Patrol Monument. It is obscured behind a mature tree, in the winter you can see through the leafless branches. But in Spring and through the end of October, the monument is hidden by the tree. At some point last week, the monument was lost to view.
It is, therefore, summer.
And it also was Monday.
The cats brought in at least two mice (other small mammals are also available), made a huge noise about it, then ate said rodents, crunching bones. Then got up on the bed to wash in a noisy and disruptive way, before curling up and going to sleep, purring.
Its good to be a cat.
It is also good to be us, if the worse thing I can say about the situation is that there are some orchids unphotographed by me.
We have our jobs. Our health. The cats. And each other.
We get up, and do our early morning thing. Jools makes coffee, does a session on the cross trainer and once dressed, goes out for a walk.
I do a session on the cross trainer too. And I can report that my i pod is deader than flares. Bugger. So, an alternative needs to be be found.
News as we get it.
Jools goes to work, I get dressed and set up the office.
And the good news is that we are all still well too, which is really good. And in Denmark things are starting to open; shops, schools, but no pubs.
And then, on to work. And another meeting.And then work.
Outside, the wind did blow, but the sun also did shine, so it looked warm and springlike, but felt like February. But I didn't put the heating on. Instead I promised I would after my second work out.
That done, time for a shower, change and then one final check on the mails before packing up and planning on dinner: chicken and prawn stir fry. For which I refuse wine or beer and have orange squash instead.
This is because on Sunday I had beer, then two glasses of wine and then the two bottle of barley wine. A lot of booze.
So, none on Monday at least.
We have coffee in the evening, listen to some tunes, and are away to bed again at nine.
This is what a lack of football brings, early nights and early rises.
Tuesday
Politicians like to take credit for things. So if you see something went well, they will be lining up to share in the successful event's or policy's reflected glory.
Good ideas are almost always theirs.
Bad ideas are always someone else's fault. Nothing to do with them.
They were following the science.
Of following the public's will.
If Brexit was such a great idea Johnson for one would be claiming credit. But he just "got it done", not because if was a good idea or would be successful, but to get it done.
Same with PPE procurement and COVID-19 testing.
They followed the science, and don't you know there's a pandemic on?
That supplies were left to get so low, some supplies sent to China, means that some front line staff were left wearing raincoats when treating patients.
But the Home Secretary is "sorry if you feel there isn't enough PPE|", and the Health Secretary accusing doctors and nurses of not using PPE correctly.
You would think that from the coverage on the BBC all was going swimmingly well in the UK, nearly 500 people died yesterday. In hospitals. That's the equivalent of a Boeing 747 crashing, and this is some kind of political triumph. No one is counting the bodies in care homes, of the patients or the staff. One care home company reported fatalities increasing 60% over the weekend.
Someone will count the bodies. One day.
So many deaths, they are just statistics, and yet popping up on my Twitter feeds are posts by those who have lost loved ones. One man lost his girlfriend after she had been in hospital for 5 weeks. He never go to see her in those 5 weeks, they never married. That was one of 500 deaths yesterday. You can humanise one death, but not 500.
Good ideas are almost always theirs.
Bad ideas are always someone else's fault. Nothing to do with them.
They were following the science.
Of following the public's will.
If Brexit was such a great idea Johnson for one would be claiming credit. But he just "got it done", not because if was a good idea or would be successful, but to get it done.
Same with PPE procurement and COVID-19 testing.
They followed the science, and don't you know there's a pandemic on?
That supplies were left to get so low, some supplies sent to China, means that some front line staff were left wearing raincoats when treating patients.
But the Home Secretary is "sorry if you feel there isn't enough PPE|", and the Health Secretary accusing doctors and nurses of not using PPE correctly.
You would think that from the coverage on the BBC all was going swimmingly well in the UK, nearly 500 people died yesterday. In hospitals. That's the equivalent of a Boeing 747 crashing, and this is some kind of political triumph. No one is counting the bodies in care homes, of the patients or the staff. One care home company reported fatalities increasing 60% over the weekend.
Someone will count the bodies. One day.
So many deaths, they are just statistics, and yet popping up on my Twitter feeds are posts by those who have lost loved ones. One man lost his girlfriend after she had been in hospital for 5 weeks. He never go to see her in those 5 weeks, they never married. That was one of 500 deaths yesterday. You can humanise one death, but not 500.
Monday, 20 April 2020
Sunday 19th April 2020
Ten year work anniversary!
I have been writing this blog since the week before our wedding in August 2008. Then on to changing jobs, a stint in the arsehole of the world, Kazakhstan, losing that job, then the trials and tribulations of a getting permanent job.
I worked at the box factory for best part of five months, working with Jools' sister as my boss.
Then came the fallow times, going to the job centre to sign on, the humiliation of explaining on a weekly basis how I had looked for work so I would receive the next batch of fifty quid a week.
And then-on day, I saw an add for a job that combined quality, engineering and documentation. I went through the list of requirements and I knew then if ever a job was made for me, then this was it.
I applied, got an interview, did OK, and was told to wait a week for news.
Two hours later they called back, I had the job if I wanted.
I did.
A temporary job turned permanent, and then the company went through tough times, we had to justify our existence on a daily basis.
But, in time, fortunes turned, we got new projects, we ramped up the department going from me and my boss, Philip, to last count over a hundred. Probably lots more.
I got a new job, did poorly, did well. Travelled, then, last year, it all went Pete Tong. But, I heard about my current position, applied and got it.
So here I am, celebrating only the second job I have lasted a decade in. The other was in the RAF. So, not done bad.
In these ten years I have met and worked with many fabulous people, many going on to be my friends.
And there are others. Well, we all light up a room with our personalities, some when we walk in, some when we walk out. I hope they see me as the latter.
In normal times I would be going to Denmark on Monday for a celebration with my colleagues. A day workshop extended into an evening event at some nice restaurant or another. But not now, not in this reality. Normal might come later.
Instead we are virtually housebound, locked down tight, only allowed out once a day for exercise and other times for shopping. Or it depends on how you read the guidance. Anyway, how to celebrate the day?
By going on an orchid hunt, of course.
What else?
It was to be a bright but breezy day, but near to sunrise the wind would drop some, so no time to lose. We get up, have a coffee and then Jools drops me off at the NT place on the cliffs, though it is all locked up with as many warning signs as those on the Falklands warning about mines. And the entrance is monitored.
So be warned.
I was.
Jools speeds away, leaving me to gather my thoughts and clamber down to see if the remote colonies of Early Spiders had returned.
Overlooking the port I found two rosettes, including one with a spike that was just about to open. Nearly, but not quite.
I walk on, scanning left and right until I see what I was looking for: a small yellowing rosette with a spike, and on the top was a single open flower.
Orchid goodness.
Around were two more, one open, the other not. I get shots.
Further along I find two more, then as I scramble down the cliff, another plant, this one the most glorious deep maroon colours, all covered in dew that make it look like it was coated in diamonds.
I take a lot of shots.
Before the cliff road turns inland, I find two more spikes, I snap those too, but was happy enough I had found more than enough, for now, so that the rest of the walk would be for exercise and general botany and photography.
I walk up the cliff road, the bed on an inclined plane railway that was constructed to help build the new eastern harbour arm, cutting a shelf into the face of the famous cliffs for only a few years use. And has been abandoned for 110 years or so, but the ten metre wide shelf, trackbed or road has been there ever since, and is a fairly gentle slope on which I could try to limit the strain on my back.
I went this way to check out different habitats in the hope of spotting something new, but really see very little of interest, and my back was making a big deal about how much it ached. I was passed just before the gate at the top by a jogger, the first person I had seen since Jools had dropped me off. Strange times indeed.
I make it to the top, and see Jools approaching. She had parked the car in the village and came to meet me on my walk, then we would walk back to the car together before driving down the hill to home.
Instead of walking along the cliffs, we took the wartime road set back a bit, which runs from the top of Langdon Hole to South Foreland lighthouse.
We see little of interest, as the road has been resurfaced since last year, and the swathes of Scarlet Pimpernel were nowhere to be seen.
A few joggers passed us with a safe distance between us, we walked back towards home, past the lighthouse, then through the scrub woodland to the path that crosses the last big field before we enter the village.
Then, across Reach Road, to the car park and into the car.
All by five past nine in the morning.
I make coffee and warm up the croissants, which we eat on the patio out back, once I have checked the shots of the orchids, and posted a couple as teasers.
Anyway, that was it really. The exciting stuff over before breakfast, the rest of the day doing chores, writing, watching more Bosch, making lunch.
It is almost too warm to sit in the garden, and the lunchtime beer I had to wash the lamb burger down caused my eyes to drop on more than one occasion.
Dinner is a simple one of fish cakes, curried rice and the leftover French style peas. And it all came together well.
The evening passed with listening to the radio, and me drinking two bottles of Hardy Ale, a barely wine rated at 12.7%. I should have stopped after the first one, but it was a night for celebration, so I did crack open the second, and spent the rest of the evening forcing it down.
Just before we went to bed, we went into the back garden to watch a string of Starlight satellites pass over. They went from west to east, and we stood and counted as 27 of them scrolled overhead. An amazing thing to see. And once we thought we had seen the last one, we went inside and to our bed.
Phew.
I have been writing this blog since the week before our wedding in August 2008. Then on to changing jobs, a stint in the arsehole of the world, Kazakhstan, losing that job, then the trials and tribulations of a getting permanent job.
I worked at the box factory for best part of five months, working with Jools' sister as my boss.
Then came the fallow times, going to the job centre to sign on, the humiliation of explaining on a weekly basis how I had looked for work so I would receive the next batch of fifty quid a week.
And then-on day, I saw an add for a job that combined quality, engineering and documentation. I went through the list of requirements and I knew then if ever a job was made for me, then this was it.I applied, got an interview, did OK, and was told to wait a week for news.
Two hours later they called back, I had the job if I wanted.I did.
A temporary job turned permanent, and then the company went through tough times, we had to justify our existence on a daily basis.
But, in time, fortunes turned, we got new projects, we ramped up the department going from me and my boss, Philip, to last count over a hundred. Probably lots more.I got a new job, did poorly, did well. Travelled, then, last year, it all went Pete Tong. But, I heard about my current position, applied and got it.
So here I am, celebrating only the second job I have lasted a decade in. The other was in the RAF. So, not done bad.
In these ten years I have met and worked with many fabulous people, many going on to be my friends.And there are others. Well, we all light up a room with our personalities, some when we walk in, some when we walk out. I hope they see me as the latter.
In normal times I would be going to Denmark on Monday for a celebration with my colleagues. A day workshop extended into an evening event at some nice restaurant or another. But not now, not in this reality. Normal might come later.
Instead we are virtually housebound, locked down tight, only allowed out once a day for exercise and other times for shopping. Or it depends on how you read the guidance. Anyway, how to celebrate the day?
By going on an orchid hunt, of course.What else?
It was to be a bright but breezy day, but near to sunrise the wind would drop some, so no time to lose. We get up, have a coffee and then Jools drops me off at the NT place on the cliffs, though it is all locked up with as many warning signs as those on the Falklands warning about mines. And the entrance is monitored.
So be warned.I was.
Jools speeds away, leaving me to gather my thoughts and clamber down to see if the remote colonies of Early Spiders had returned.
Overlooking the port I found two rosettes, including one with a spike that was just about to open. Nearly, but not quite.I walk on, scanning left and right until I see what I was looking for: a small yellowing rosette with a spike, and on the top was a single open flower.
Orchid goodness.
Around were two more, one open, the other not. I get shots.
Further along I find two more, then as I scramble down the cliff, another plant, this one the most glorious deep maroon colours, all covered in dew that make it look like it was coated in diamonds.
I take a lot of shots.Before the cliff road turns inland, I find two more spikes, I snap those too, but was happy enough I had found more than enough, for now, so that the rest of the walk would be for exercise and general botany and photography.
I walk up the cliff road, the bed on an inclined plane railway that was constructed to help build the new eastern harbour arm, cutting a shelf into the face of the famous cliffs for only a few years use. And has been abandoned for 110 years or so, but the ten metre wide shelf, trackbed or road has been there ever since, and is a fairly gentle slope on which I could try to limit the strain on my back.
I went this way to check out different habitats in the hope of spotting something new, but really see very little of interest, and my back was making a big deal about how much it ached. I was passed just before the gate at the top by a jogger, the first person I had seen since Jools had dropped me off. Strange times indeed.
I make it to the top, and see Jools approaching. She had parked the car in the village and came to meet me on my walk, then we would walk back to the car together before driving down the hill to home.Instead of walking along the cliffs, we took the wartime road set back a bit, which runs from the top of Langdon Hole to South Foreland lighthouse.
We see little of interest, as the road has been resurfaced since last year, and the swathes of Scarlet Pimpernel were nowhere to be seen.
A few joggers passed us with a safe distance between us, we walked back towards home, past the lighthouse, then through the scrub woodland to the path that crosses the last big field before we enter the village.
Then, across Reach Road, to the car park and into the car.All by five past nine in the morning.
I make coffee and warm up the croissants, which we eat on the patio out back, once I have checked the shots of the orchids, and posted a couple as teasers.
Anyway, that was it really. The exciting stuff over before breakfast, the rest of the day doing chores, writing, watching more Bosch, making lunch.
It is almost too warm to sit in the garden, and the lunchtime beer I had to wash the lamb burger down caused my eyes to drop on more than one occasion.
Dinner is a simple one of fish cakes, curried rice and the leftover French style peas. And it all came together well.
The evening passed with listening to the radio, and me drinking two bottles of Hardy Ale, a barely wine rated at 12.7%. I should have stopped after the first one, but it was a night for celebration, so I did crack open the second, and spent the rest of the evening forcing it down.Just before we went to bed, we went into the back garden to watch a string of Starlight satellites pass over. They went from west to east, and we stood and counted as 27 of them scrolled overhead. An amazing thing to see. And once we thought we had seen the last one, we went inside and to our bed.
Phew.
Fake fake news
Over the weekend, The Financial Times and Sunday Times published well researched reports on the Government's apparent lack of planning and preparedness. This resulted in the unusual step of the Government to release two 3,000 word rebuttals on the claims.
But more interestingly is that the BBC has seen fit not to mention either of these stories the weekend, especially the Sunday Times one which paints the PM in such a shocking light.
While I agree that these claims are unproven, they are claims that have the highest public interest, and in the past, on many occasions, the BBC has referenced claims made in newspaper reports in "quotation marks". But not over the weekend.
Despite the Government engaged in heavy firefighting due to these stories and the spread of them on social media, the BBC reported on the daily press conferences as normal.
The BBC's chief political editor, Laura Kuenssberg, has not filed a story or reported on these serious stories.
It is all rather odd. And meanwhile another 600 people were added to the official casualty list, another Jumbo jet sized number of deaths, and the BBC seems to think that all of this is normal.
And still there is no news on what the medium term plan is for COVID-19 planning. What happens in three or six weeks when the lockdown is loosened, how will that be handled? What will open, what will not? Can people gather in groups of two, three, ten or more? Will social distancing still be in force?
The Government does not say, maybe it doesn't know.
Such a plan should be part of a larger strategy which went from first confirmed case to the successful deployment of a vaccination and the population safe again.
I heard from a colleague in Denmark today, that plans are in place for further lockdowns are needed to deal with a second and third wave. It would be the same for the UK to, meaning any potential return to normality might only be temporary.
It is possible that social gatherings in pubs, bars, restaurants and sporting events might not be deemed safe until the autumn, winter, next year or 2022?
Imagine that!
But more interestingly is that the BBC has seen fit not to mention either of these stories the weekend, especially the Sunday Times one which paints the PM in such a shocking light.
While I agree that these claims are unproven, they are claims that have the highest public interest, and in the past, on many occasions, the BBC has referenced claims made in newspaper reports in "quotation marks". But not over the weekend.
Despite the Government engaged in heavy firefighting due to these stories and the spread of them on social media, the BBC reported on the daily press conferences as normal.
The BBC's chief political editor, Laura Kuenssberg, has not filed a story or reported on these serious stories.
It is all rather odd. And meanwhile another 600 people were added to the official casualty list, another Jumbo jet sized number of deaths, and the BBC seems to think that all of this is normal.
And still there is no news on what the medium term plan is for COVID-19 planning. What happens in three or six weeks when the lockdown is loosened, how will that be handled? What will open, what will not? Can people gather in groups of two, three, ten or more? Will social distancing still be in force?
The Government does not say, maybe it doesn't know.
Such a plan should be part of a larger strategy which went from first confirmed case to the successful deployment of a vaccination and the population safe again.
I heard from a colleague in Denmark today, that plans are in place for further lockdowns are needed to deal with a second and third wave. It would be the same for the UK to, meaning any potential return to normality might only be temporary.
It is possible that social gatherings in pubs, bars, restaurants and sporting events might not be deemed safe until the autumn, winter, next year or 2022?
Imagine that!
Sunday, 19 April 2020
Saturday 18th April 2020
Saturday, the 40th March 2020.
Or something.
Life has been on hold for five weeks now. But now there is time to get things done, watch the grass grow and flowers open. And who wouldn't want time to do stuff like that?
It was a glorious sunny, if chilly, weekend, but we had nothing planned. I did have many orchid trips planned, but we stayed home.
We stayed home and kinda did stuff, took all day to do it too.
I did lay in bed until half six, by which time the sun was also up, and bright. Scully had woken my up jumping onto my legs in the hope I would stay in bed with her all day. I mean I could.
But I get up, Jools hears my feet touch the floor and so she puts the coffee pot on.
We both do a session on the cross trainer. Though it seems my i pod has given up the ghost. Another morning where the box of delights skipped and then refused to work. So I had to work out listening to the radio, which just my luck was stuck in a fifteen minute chat about record store day. Which it was. And then wasn't.
Anyway, I do my session too, we both shower and are all ready for our fun packed day.
Excitement was in the air as the BBC had forecast thunder storms, so I went to a storm radar website and looked: a few flashed around Canterbury, then nothing.
We did did get a few showers at lunchtime, but not the storms we hoped.
So the morning morphed into afternoon. We had lunch, I made courgette fritters, and added some leftover chorizo which made them ping. Another triumph even if I say so myself.
We watched the first episode of a new drama, Bosch, or something. Not about a power tool, but a crime noir set in LA. Might be good, there are four series to watch, so that should keep us quiet.
Jools spent the day sewing our new blackout blinds. For this she had to get the material and a sewing machine. She worked with great concentration for at least six hours, and at the end had one of the blinds cut t size, backed and neatly sewed all round the edge. They look very good indeed.
We will need to put up the fittings on window frames, which will be interesting to say the least. But stay tuned for more home improvements.
Our elderly neighbour, Walter, who lost his wfe 18 months back, asked us if we could go shopping for him, so Jools got the list and went to Tesco, while I stayed at home to cook dinner.
I had seen a Jamie Oliver show this week, so cooked quick chicken and mushroom pie with French style peas to go with it. All should be done in half an hour.
The chicken is cooked with butter, flour and creme fresche and mustard, then put in a tin, has a puff pastry lid put on and baked for 20 minutes.
Yummy.
And then the peas: cooked in butter, flour and chicken stock and onions. Add the peas and cook for 5 minutes.
Also, yummy.
Jools returns home with all of Walters items bought.
And then we ate.
And as if by magic, it was evening. So, the usual rock and roll evening, going to bed at half eight to read until Scully made it clear I should stop so she could sleep.
Or something.
Life has been on hold for five weeks now. But now there is time to get things done, watch the grass grow and flowers open. And who wouldn't want time to do stuff like that?
It was a glorious sunny, if chilly, weekend, but we had nothing planned. I did have many orchid trips planned, but we stayed home.
We stayed home and kinda did stuff, took all day to do it too.
I did lay in bed until half six, by which time the sun was also up, and bright. Scully had woken my up jumping onto my legs in the hope I would stay in bed with her all day. I mean I could.
But I get up, Jools hears my feet touch the floor and so she puts the coffee pot on.We both do a session on the cross trainer. Though it seems my i pod has given up the ghost. Another morning where the box of delights skipped and then refused to work. So I had to work out listening to the radio, which just my luck was stuck in a fifteen minute chat about record store day. Which it was. And then wasn't.
Anyway, I do my session too, we both shower and are all ready for our fun packed day.
Excitement was in the air as the BBC had forecast thunder storms, so I went to a storm radar website and looked: a few flashed around Canterbury, then nothing.
We did did get a few showers at lunchtime, but not the storms we hoped.So the morning morphed into afternoon. We had lunch, I made courgette fritters, and added some leftover chorizo which made them ping. Another triumph even if I say so myself.
We watched the first episode of a new drama, Bosch, or something. Not about a power tool, but a crime noir set in LA. Might be good, there are four series to watch, so that should keep us quiet.
Jools spent the day sewing our new blackout blinds. For this she had to get the material and a sewing machine. She worked with great concentration for at least six hours, and at the end had one of the blinds cut t size, backed and neatly sewed all round the edge. They look very good indeed.
We will need to put up the fittings on window frames, which will be interesting to say the least. But stay tuned for more home improvements.Our elderly neighbour, Walter, who lost his wfe 18 months back, asked us if we could go shopping for him, so Jools got the list and went to Tesco, while I stayed at home to cook dinner.
I had seen a Jamie Oliver show this week, so cooked quick chicken and mushroom pie with French style peas to go with it. All should be done in half an hour.
The chicken is cooked with butter, flour and creme fresche and mustard, then put in a tin, has a puff pastry lid put on and baked for 20 minutes.
Yummy.And then the peas: cooked in butter, flour and chicken stock and onions. Add the peas and cook for 5 minutes.
Also, yummy.
Jools returns home with all of Walters items bought.
And then we ate.
And as if by magic, it was evening. So, the usual rock and roll evening, going to bed at half eight to read until Scully made it clear I should stop so she could sleep.
#BorisResign
How quickly the mighty fall.
Last week the country was encouraged to "clap for Boris" when he was ill in hospital, and today the Murdoch owned Sunday Times turned on the PM and has published a damning report on how Johnson and the Brexiteers wasted the six weeks from the beginning of February.
This came on top of two other reports, in the Financial Times on how the decision to order ventilators from UK companies that had never made things before, using a new design rather than building under licence, the requirements for the ventilators were set wrong by the Government from the start, and what was built dd not have certification to be used, but once it was, was found to be unsuitable for use on COVID-19 patients. But otherwise, wonderful.
888 deaths were announced yesterday, just in hospitals. The figure for the whole country is likely to be at least twice as big.
The WHO announced that it was also highly likely that those who had recovered from the virus would not have antibodies, thus torpedoing Johnson and Cummings' herd immunity plan.
But the Sunday Times report claims that Johnson took two weeks off in February to complete a book he had been contracted to write, lest he have to pay the advance back. I can remember writing about that at the time.
But Johnson, already notorious for not having a good grasp of any brief, missed 5 COBRA meetings in a row when he should be leading.
When the Government should have been preparing for COVID_19, it was, instead, arranging for shiny new 50 pence pieces to be minted, blue passports and preparing for no deal Brexit. All of the machinery of Government engaged in a pointless and wasteful taks, like the Heart of Gold trying to make a cup of tea. Brexit will make us poorer, but will also have killed 60,000 of us in the process.
Cabinet Ministers yesterday said, anonymously, there was no plan. The public seemed to want to have a lockdown, so that's what they did. And when the public no longer will accept the lockdown, it will be relaxed. But nothing based on something like science of facts.
Having written about this group of talent-less charlatans for nearly four years, that they have messed up on such a grand scale is not surprising, but what is surprising is how the media and senior reports for the BBC and ITV have just parroted Government lines, no scrutiny, no journalistic endeavour.
People knew what Johnson was like, and voted for him anyway. And the press; he was once one of them, went to school and university with many of the senior reporters, so was one of them and their friends. It wouldn't be British to report accurately on what was going on, best be loyal to the Old Etonion.
Last week the country was encouraged to "clap for Boris" when he was ill in hospital, and today the Murdoch owned Sunday Times turned on the PM and has published a damning report on how Johnson and the Brexiteers wasted the six weeks from the beginning of February.
This came on top of two other reports, in the Financial Times on how the decision to order ventilators from UK companies that had never made things before, using a new design rather than building under licence, the requirements for the ventilators were set wrong by the Government from the start, and what was built dd not have certification to be used, but once it was, was found to be unsuitable for use on COVID-19 patients. But otherwise, wonderful.
888 deaths were announced yesterday, just in hospitals. The figure for the whole country is likely to be at least twice as big.
The WHO announced that it was also highly likely that those who had recovered from the virus would not have antibodies, thus torpedoing Johnson and Cummings' herd immunity plan.
But the Sunday Times report claims that Johnson took two weeks off in February to complete a book he had been contracted to write, lest he have to pay the advance back. I can remember writing about that at the time.
But Johnson, already notorious for not having a good grasp of any brief, missed 5 COBRA meetings in a row when he should be leading.
When the Government should have been preparing for COVID_19, it was, instead, arranging for shiny new 50 pence pieces to be minted, blue passports and preparing for no deal Brexit. All of the machinery of Government engaged in a pointless and wasteful taks, like the Heart of Gold trying to make a cup of tea. Brexit will make us poorer, but will also have killed 60,000 of us in the process.
Cabinet Ministers yesterday said, anonymously, there was no plan. The public seemed to want to have a lockdown, so that's what they did. And when the public no longer will accept the lockdown, it will be relaxed. But nothing based on something like science of facts.
Having written about this group of talent-less charlatans for nearly four years, that they have messed up on such a grand scale is not surprising, but what is surprising is how the media and senior reports for the BBC and ITV have just parroted Government lines, no scrutiny, no journalistic endeavour.
People knew what Johnson was like, and voted for him anyway. And the press; he was once one of them, went to school and university with many of the senior reporters, so was one of them and their friends. It wouldn't be British to report accurately on what was going on, best be loyal to the Old Etonion.
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