Thursday, 12th November, 2020 [Day 241]

We made an early start today because we knew that I had to make an early morning trip to Waitrose in Droitwich (seven miles down the road) to pick up my ‘Click-and-Collect’ shopping order. Having picked up my daily ration of newspapers I then headed towards Droitwich but as the traffic was so light, I got there twenty minutes before my allocated ‘slot’ time. However, by making a slight detour from Waitrose I managed to visit my local hardware store, Wilko, from where I could purchase some screen wash and other car cleaning requisites at very affordable prices. And so I then collected my Waitrose order without more ado but I knew this was going to be a one-off, occasioned by the fact that on the news of the impending lockdown Mark II all of the available slots went like a flash. I have now secured slots for the next two weeks ahead as well as a special Christmas slot and know the system that as soon as new slots are released, it is a good idea to order two weeks ahead (which I have now done).

Our normal walk to the park was uneventful but it was a beautiful bright but rather chilly day – nonetheless, it is always heartwarming to have piece of autumn sunshine to raise the spirits. We chatted with our Italian friend (again) on the way home and then proceeded to make the by now conventional curry which is a habit which we have carried over from our student days some fifty years ago.

The COVID-19 news today is quite disturbing as the highest ever one day total (33.470 cases) has just been recorded. However it is being argued that as cases take several days to develop, the spike could only have been caused by infections in the very last days of October. The leak which broke the news of the lockdown landed on 30 October, a Friday night, forcing Downing Street to bring forward its announcement of a lockdown to 31 October, a Saturday. So it could well be that the very sudden ‘spike’ has a rational explanation – in the next few days if the rate of infection seems to diminish then this explanation may prove to be correct.

There is a massive row breaking overnight in which it looks as though some of the extreme Brexiteers who now inhabit the Downing Street fairyland are falling out with each other. It looks as though one ‘Vote Leave’ fanatic (evidently given a position of responsibility with Downing Street) named Lee Cain was promised the position of Chief of Staff to try to bring a semblance of order to the Downing Street organisation but this provoked such a severe counter-reaction from some Tory Mp’s and the PM’s own ‘live-in’ girlfriend Carrie Symonds that Lee Cain has resigned the position before he actually took up the post. If the phrases ‘Byzantine intrigue’ and ‘nest of vipers’ comes to mind, then this is hardly surprising under the circumstances.

American politics seems just as byzantine at the moment. Trying to understand what sort of game the Republicans are playing,  supporting a president who has evidently lost and will never succeed in the courts, then what is their strategy? The explanation I have managed to find is as follows.

‘So the name of the game is patience. They accept that the president has a right to make his claims, give him time to vent his frustration, but figure that there will be no evidence of sufficient magnitude to change the election results. Through their actions, if not their words, they’re acknowledging that come January, there will be a new president. Trump, too, shall pass.’

In the late afternoon, Meg and I just happened to be together in our study checking emails and the like when a Skype call came through from some of our Oxfordshire friends. This was so much more pleasant by being entirely unexpected (a bit like a neighbour dropping by a chat) we exchanged views of the American election and I passed on a tip to type ‘http://loser.com’ into any web browser to see what happens (I think you may be able to predict this, though). Our friends told us several of their stories before I was reminded of an experience of our own. We happened to be small bar in Almuñécar, southern Spain, reputed to have some of the finest hot chocolate in the area. In the bar, stuffed full of locals, a small baby was being passed from bosom to bosom of a group of neighbours – no wonder this (male) child had a beatific smile on his face. I asked an elderly gentleman was who was leaning against the bar whether indeed the baby was his. He replied ‘No Señor, this is a baby of all the world‘ and I could only but agree.

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