On Friday evening, Sam and I shared some socially distanced drinkies in my garden, which I understand isn’t technically within the Government guidance but, to be perfectly honest, I’d be very impressed with anyone that could tell me what actually is. We spent a few hours listening to music and talking rubbish, the kind of thing we all used to do every weekend before we were forced into extended hibernation, and it was a welcome distraction from the mundaneness that has come to envelope my life. At one point we were watching the PopWorld live stream on Facebook, which I can only describe as a harrowing experience, largely because Sam was absolutely certain that the man hosting it was “definitely a peadophile”. After Sam went I had a few games of Call of Duty with Lewis & Adam before joining a FaceTime call with Sam & Chloe and, before I even had a chance to check the time, it was one o’clock in the morning and I’d drunk two bottles of Sauvignon. Saturday morning was not a pleasant experience.
On Saturday afternoon, I set myself & Hayley the task of assembling the bookshelf I bought from Argos earlier in the week. Those who know me will be aware of my severe lack of patients and inability to focus on menial undertakings so, without trying to throw myself a pity party, it was a task much easier said than done. Nevertheless, after a few hours and several expletives, the bookshelf was in place and I was able to start filling it. As I said in my blog earlier this week, the books I’ve read up until now have been overwhelmingly focused on politics, a fact that has been further exemplified by the appearance of little else on my shelves other than political autobiographies. Although my desire to expand my horizons over summer has been enhanced even further by this, the bookshelf itself does fit nicely in the corner of my room and I’m extremely happy that I’ve now got it furnished almost exactly as I’d like it, especially with the photo wall I’ve also spent hours putting up this week looking as good as it does. Maybe there is hope yet that I might one day become a DIY icon.
This morning I attended a socially distanced workout on the playing fields behind The Cabbage (formally known as Hatton Sports & Social Club), hosted by the newly enthroned King of Fitness Samuel Morris himself. My lovely friends Kiera and Chloe were also in attendance, although I’m not sure you could class what Kiera managed to achieve as a workout, as it was arguably more of a subliminal cry for help. It was interesting to finally do a workout with Sam in person rather than over Instagram live and, without trying to inflate his ego to astronomical levels, he’s actually quite good at getting us going and motivating people. In less than an hour I’d burned 500 calories and set myself up for a productive day, all whilst having a good laugh with a few of my dearest friends (and Chloe). Admittedly it’s not quite what I imagined myself doing at The Cabbage during summer, but it’s nice to see that we’re starting to adapt to current circumstances and I’m hopeful that, Boris’ permission pending, we’ll be able to do at least some things together over summer, even if it is mostly outside & socially distanced.
On the topic of Boris, it came out over the weekend that the Prime Minister’s de facto Chief of Staff, Dominic Cummings, had broken lockdown rules in April to drive himself, his wife and his son up from their home in London to his parents home in Durham, 250 miles away, possibly more than once. Although the PM and his cabinet have been quick to come to Cummings’ defence, any sensible person can see that he should immediately hand in his resignation – it’s one thing bending the rules a bit here and there to sneak a visit to friends or family, but driving two hundred and fifty miles to see your parents whilst you’re in the middle of battling the virus yourself is certainly taking the biscuit. Cummings’ official reasoning is that he needed help with childcare as both he and his wife were ill with COVID-19, but this excuse is instantly null and void when you consider his sister-in-law also lives in London and would have been able to offer her assistance. I accept that, when it comes to family, there are few amongst us who wouldn’t break the rules to ensure the safety of our loved ones, but when you are simultaneously entrusted with the governance of this country, you must be held to a higher level of scrutiny, and Cummings should therefore accept his mistake and leave his role at 10 Downing Street. I won’t hold my breath.
I have decided that, for the foreseeable future, I will no longer write a blog for Thursdays and will leave Sunday as the only day of the week I post my egotistical ramblings. There are two main reasons for this. Firstly, with no sign of lockdown alleviating anytime soon, I worry that my writing will become rather repetitive, if it hasn’t already, as I’m left with nothing to write about except the four walls of my bedroom and my occasional trips to the back garden. Secondly, I believe that a longer piece once a week will be more satisfying to write, and hopefully more satisfying to read, than two shorter pieces twice a week, as the extended timescale will allow me to put more thought into my musings. I suppose it might also be pleasant to end the week with a nice summary of it, in its entirety, from yours truly – what more could you possibly want?
Expect a miserable tone next Sunday if Cummings is still in post – I’ve had £20 on him to be gone by the end of May. Stay safe.
