Well I woke up this morning; things to do.
Need a haircut; barbers are shut.
Push ups in the gym; they won’t let me in.
No Americano; bad news on the radio.
Shed a tear; pubs with no beer.
Man! I’ve got the Hertford Lockdown Blues again.
I rarely comment on national politics here, but at my stage of life I have come to know certain things.
When winter comes it gets cold and there are outbreaks of flu. Even outside of winter these epidemics attack the old and the infirm. Many senior citizens and other vulnerable people die.
When I was at Primary school and someone had a runny nose with enough drips and drops from which to bake a snot and bogey pie we said they had the lurgy, and avoided them with the proverbial barge pole.
I spent my best years commuting into and around London. The trains, Underground and buses were full of people sneezing, blowing noses and exhaling a multitude of germs and foul smells.
Great Britain is an island. I am reliably informed that this is why we do not experience outbreaks of rabies because mad dogs cannot swim.
Who am I to influence Government policy but having lived through the above surely their advisers have as well.
The old should have been immediately isolated and protected from the world in a manner that infection could not spread amongst them. Not thrown back into care homes to become super-spreaders. By default their carers and those in the front line, ie all NHS staff, should have full personal protection.
From the outset masks should have mandatory on all public transport and other places where crowds gather. In essence the greatest defence against infection is space, and if in confined spaces use a mask
As an island the ports, airports, Channel Tunnel and all other points of entry should have been closed and overseas travel reduced to only necessary journeys. The world is not populated by solely British holidaymakers. As Blue Mink sung: ‘the world is just a great big melting pot’. All people from all nations mix in all the best places and bugs are brought back into the UK.
This is not a diatribe for or against the Government but some things are self evident to those of more mature years.
I can endure a month at home. I have my books to defend me (Paul Simon) and supermarkets still sell a decent claret and a round of a mature stilton. But can the shopkeepers, especially the independents in town, survive another lockdown. I hope so because despite what I may have written in all these posts (see right) I actually like Hertford.