One month after the British Government made the extraordinary decision to let the Cheltenham Festival go ahead, we have been fed the daily bullshit about Coronavirus affecting the older generation and those with pre-existing conditions (a category always vulnerable to infection). The latest reported COVID-19 death is a 13-year-old -schoolboy, who died alone, without his family at his bedside.
When the COVID-19 dust settles, and an investigation is held into why measures were not put into place sooner to protect the UK before the acute phase of the pandemic hit, will heads roll?
I woke up sneezing this morning and wondered if the bastard-bug had got to me. However, after two cups of coffee and two pieces of toast later, I am glad to report that the sneezing fit was probably something to do with a stray speck of dust. Being vigilant is a good thing, but I need to get a grip on automatically assuming that one sneeze means I need to self-isolate.
Looking at life from the funny side has never been more difficult, as my compromised immune system and I prepare to stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the world to face the biggest battle of our lives, Covid-19.
I’m confused. We are caught up in the worst public health crisis for a generation. Yet, we are expected to carry on regardless with a big, black Covid-19 cloud hanging over our heads.
It’s hard to keep the comedic banter going, now that the Coronavirus has been declared a World Health Emergency. The enormity of its threat to our very existence has rather paled Brexit Day into submission. Not that this day is anything to celebrate, its more like a wake. It’s a day I hoped would never come, along with half the British population.