Coronavirus is making us strangely productive – the allotment has never looked so good, we’re righting decades-old wrongs and… bleaching carrier bags
“Someone’s got too much time on their hands” Image: mrshit50s
Conventional wisdom says that it’s The Devil who makes work for idle hands to do.
But, if our family is anything to go by, the lockdown has actually unleashed the work ethic and creative juices that lurk – if you look hard enough – in the breast of every right-thinking Brit.
We’re still working from home but – as we don’t have to spend time on commuting, make-up or dressing properly – we have become wildly productive in some unexpected areas.
It’s all very well clapping them every Thursday night, but why not thank key workers properly when the Coronavirus storm blows over?
AT THE END of World War One, British Prime Minister David Lloyd George promised to build 500,000 new homes as a reward for the sacrifices ordinary people had made.
Only 200,000 of them were completed, but for many of those lucky enough to move into a new home, it was their first experience of electricity, running water, bathrooms, indoor toilets and gardens.
By 1939, more than a million council houses had been built across the UK, and in 1948 – three years after victory over Nazi Germany in World War Two – the Government again thanked people for their fortitude with the creation of the National Health Service (applause!).
The Coronavirus pandemic is perhaps the greatest challenge to face this country – and the world – since the 1940s, with ordinary people likes nurses, care home workers and bus drivers again at the forefront of the fight.
When all of this has blown over – and we look at ways of saying ‘Thank You’ to our key workers – we could do worse than building them somewhere decent to live again.
I thought I’d never say this – but the Government is being quite cool…
I’M NOT A FAN of the Conservative Party. Never have been. Never will be.
I couldn’t stand Maggie and her ‘No such thing as society’ nonsense.
I hated austerity, and I’d be deliriously happy if we never, ever, ever Got Brexit Done.
The way the Johnson administration has handled the Coronavirus crisis has also been lacking in many ways (although, to be honest, I doubt that I’d do any better if I were leading the nation).
There was the early, misguided, flirtation with herd immunity before social distancing was imposed. There are still big problems with testing, and now there’s the Prime Minister’s distressing failure to heed his own advice about social distancing.
But I’m proud of one thing that the Government has done: at least they’ve tried to treat us all like adults.
Coronavirus is a bad thing – but there are upsides, particularly for quiet types
I KNOW we’re all supposed to be in this together but – on the quiet – I have been indulging in a bit of gloating lately.
That’s because the Coronavirus pandemic – though it’s tragic, frantic, dreadful and economy-wrangling – has temporarily created almost perfect laboratory conditions for introverts like me to thrive.
Just like the shy deer, birds and sea turtles who are reclaiming habitats worldwide in the absence of humans, Lockdown Britain has suddenly gifted withdrawn folk the quiet and solitude we need to thrive.
The famously rude people of London have re-discovered politeness – via slightly manic social distancing
WE GOT TOLD OFF by Housemaster Johnson on Monday, so now we’re on our best behaviour.
Initially, Londoners treated the whole Coronavirus thing as a jittery sort of half-holiday and went thronging the city’s parks and open spaces, despite official advice to keep well apart.
Next thing we knew, most of us were being told to stay in our dorms and threatened with Sir cancelling PE – the same as in Spain and Italy – if we couldn’t be trusted.
Not many of us want to be cooped up 24/7, and so London’s green spaces have been chocka with people stretching their legs again this week.
I dare you to try and steal my asparagus when the End Times come…
Original Covid-19 image: Vektor Kunst/Pixabay (and with apologies to the wonderful Bjork)
WE’RE ALL STUCK at home because of the Coronavirus, even though none of us is remotely ill.
My son’s school closed due to – Covid-19 related – staff shortages yesterday, while my wife’s firm has told all non-essential staff to work from home.
My daughter’s lecturers – who’ve just come off a three-week strike anyway – are teaching online and me….well, I’m always here.
So far, being in semi-lockdown has been lovely, particularly because none of us has to get up early any more.
I’m normally roused at six by the wife’s alarm and then stagger up to make cups of tea, feed cats, clear up last night’s mess and make Ready Brek by 7.15.
But today, since Her Indoors didn’t have to spend 90 minutes commuting in – and because The Lad could get his own breakfast – we slept soundly until 7.30.
I’ve always felt guilty that I’m not a social runner – but at least going solo is perfect for escaping Covid-19
Original Image: Anita Morgan/Pixabay
FUCK SELF-ISOLATION: that was the unspoken message in the air around London’s open spaces yesterday.
I ran through three parks as I knocked out my Sunday 10-miler, and it looked like everyone in the city was outside with me, despite the Coronavirus.
Given some half decent weather for once, Londoners were seizing the chance to stretch their legs, and for some space and fresh air.
Kids, Mums, Dads, old folks, lovers and dogs – they were all out – along with runners. Dozens and dozens of runners.
It even felt a bit Blitz-Spirit-y, being out there mingling in the face of Covid-19.
‘Bring it on!’ said the dog walker, bending to bag a turd”
Bring it on! Said the business-as-usual body language of the dog walker bending to bag a freshly minted turd. London Can Take It! said every Dad standing his ground quietly against a toddler baying for ice cream.
But in the midst of all these heroes was a coward – and that coward was me.
Because, as I dodged and weaved through the throng – woolly gloves on despite the sunshine and maintaining a safe two metres at all times – I wasn’t being brave.
Sweating doesn’t just boil bad stuff out of us – it makes room for creativity and our better selves
One may be the face of Jesus, the other is a sweat stain shaped like a stubby cock and balls Turin Shroud image: Wikimedia Commons
OH, I NEEDED that!
I’ve just run a fast five miles because I was turning into a bit of a nasty bastard at home.
It’s never a good sign when I threaten the cat with a kicking – swearing and jabbing a forefinger at him like someone I was squaring up to in a pub – and just because he keeps getting under my feet.
But I’ve been feeling tired, stressed, and a bit ill for the past couple of days.
I had a couple of pre-holiday vaccinations 48 hours ago and have been sniffing and sneezing quite a bit.
It’s probably just the injections but – like everyone else in the world – I’m secretly terrified that Covid-19 has tracked me down.
theshit50s 