If nothing else, the weather on planet COVID’s not been overly disagreeable in the past fortnight. Sure we’ve experienced a few gusty days which endeavoured to blow our garden parasol, along with a cluster of garden shrubs, into next week. However, the climates been temperate enough to afford regular tendering of chez Strachan’s flora and fauna.
Footnote – As prevailing life events run with a jammed repeat button, I’d envisage next week’s lockdown landscape wouldn’t have differed significantly from present….. Apart from, perhaps, the climate affording less breeze.
With these upturn in late Spring temperature, twice I managed to persuade my barbecue-phobe mother to partake in cuisine grilled over burning charcoal. The alfresco grilled fare served to table not a flashy niche dish, such as goose in a wild boar sauce; my modest cuisine merely the humble burger and sausages.
In the last fortnight, I’ve also had an opportunity to light a chiminea wood fire on a few occasions. This pyre accompaniment ignited when the shadows’ve lengthened over le jardin Strachan. The smell of burning kiln dried hardwood providing a comforting redolence, along with warmth necessary as garden temperates drop a few degrees.
Yesterday evening was one such episode. With Chiminea lit, witnessing the recently efflorescent rhododendron containing my dads ashes, perched with a chilled glass of Pinot Grigio, a bowl of dry roasted nuts, and the aural backdrop of Beatles classics, it’s fair to say I was in clover…… Mind you, I’m not sure the neighbours a few doors down will be overly happy when they wake to witness their garden fence was fuel.
Footnote – To clarify, the dry roasted nuts of which I speak are the snacks I chose to accompany my wine, not a consequence of me sitting too close to the chiminea fire!!
I’m unsure what makes the whiff of enkindled lumber so ambrosial. One theory of mine is this brio manifests from within our genetic make up, borne in primitive times when firewood was the main fuel for warming your brood…… That’s one theory, however, it maybe something as simple as I’m a repressed arsonist.
The one downside to chiminea wood blazes are, if I leave the French doors ajar, the next day our dining room has the hangover reek of fire damage. A whiff which bears none of the alluring fragrance bestowed during the previous night’s chiminea incandesce.
The unity and stoicism COVID-19 had brought the UK in it’s wake appears to have been damaged significantly during the last week or so. The catalyst to the mood zeitgeist change a disquiet many bear over the Dominic Cummings affair.
The prime minister’s senior aide incurring these individuals wrath by his lockdown actions which appear to contradict governmental ‘stay at home’ edicts. The very advice which, to protect the NHS, the proletariat’d adhered to for months. The populaces sacrifice appearing to be hurled back in their mushes by a cluster of contemptuous high ranking MPs and aides who back Cummings.
From a personal point of view, I’m not as irked as many about Mr Cummings movement’s. However, my chag has been rin at the arrogance, lack of contrition, and selected bullshit spouted by the tortoise without a shell (Cummings) relating to his actions during his Durham visit.
The implication he drove 30 miles to Barnard Castle to check his eyesight was fit for purpose to drive back to London one of his more unbelievable profferings. Even if it did happen as told, the fact he strapped his young kid into the vehicle surely raises further questions about his judgement.
The smug Durham chap didn’t even have it in him to make the concession of apologising for his movements further clouding the already confusing government lockdown edicts.
I’d imagine part of Cummings role responsibilities, as well as party strategy, is advising on PR. With this in mind I’m astonished he thinks he isn’t badly undermining government support and this furore will blow over without, at the very least, concession of an apology. In recent days, his select band of boot lickers are currently endeavouring to sell the electorate that it’s within the countries best interests to just move on.
I agree, but not without some show of contrition from the main governmental protagonists. Otherwise, I really don’t see this matter becoming moribund any time soon. After all, you cannot kick your electorate in the teeth and then ask them to pick up the dislodged molars, incisors and canine nashers.
GJ Strachan doesn’t pin his colours to any political party, or indeed ideology. In fact there’s nothing bores me more than writing, or even talking about, the various hues upon Britain’s political landscape.
For instance, yours truly barely wrote a thing about Brexit, or mention in despatches last year’s General Election, or indeed much of the governmental handling of this current s**t show. As I distrust politicians on all sides, or indeed know a great deal about the topic of politics, ordinarily I’ll give the whole den of iniquity the widest of berths.
However, despite these political knowledge voids, borne from lack of interest more than being unable to grasp its finer nuances, I do know you can’t expect to act with such gross hypocrisy and expect it to die without concession.
Thank You!….. Your witness!!…..