The year we caught the plague.

Well this does feel strange. Everyone, including me I suppose, is doing what they always do and, since I'm stuck in Wetherby for a while, I must go out. Otherwise I'm just going to end up arguing with mother who seems to think she is going to be fine because she says she will be. 

Whenever I approach a group of people I'm veering away to let them breath on each other. Yet I was forced to go get milk for mother.

We lived on other foods prior to being addicted to cow's milk in our tea or coffee, etc. In Morrisons there was "zero" milk so I got out as soon as possible: with a few resources under my arms - it wasn't a suckling pig but it was two bottles of Riesling: the theory being that I could drown in wine prior to suffocating, and it's a possible "Gallic" paradoxical qualities.

This morning, on my brief walk with Lola, because some wanker threw a glass on the pavement near mum's house, and Lola has lost a lot of pad (thankfully on her other foot), I've been eating most of the buds I've come across and I can definitely state: don't try Bird Cherries or Crab Apple blossom! Bitter! But you're actually cool with Brambles, Hawthorn and Hazel: Brambles made me cough badly! But on closer inspection it has tiny hairs - a bit like Nettles - and it didn't half rub the wrong way!"

People at the bar, in Bar3, touching one another, close to one another, carrying on regardless: luckily it's not bombs falling from the sky! Kids are back from Uni - York St John is where one was from (which had the "plague" weeks ago) and the other didn't say: we definitely are living in interesting times.

For a grocer, like Andy, because he's probably got little "liquidity" it's a very "scary" time. However, in a selfish industry - as all are - no one is going to be cooperative. And then you've Morrisons, who should be hung high from the nearest Gallows Pole, selling everything in the shop to anyone without a brain. Unity in this time and ways of finding a way for life, or addictions, to carry on. And for people who have little physically and mentally...

Gosh I am living in another time! It's "Journal of a Plague Year", however I am alive in it. Daniel Defoe wasn't born until after the 1665 plague. So it must be called the "Journal in a Plague Year".

I've come home and it feels like the country is on a cliff edge, and it's time to unify. We're all part of the his world! Please let's all come together and stop the horrors that we inflict on one another. And I'm drinking Warsteiner in the Old Oak: a Kneipe where I'm not really welcome. Why do I do this?