And so this is Friday and do I have Covid yet? No, readers, I do not and let us give praise to the power of the humble mask. Of all the things to politicise, this is what they chose? Seriously? Full of appreciation for the insulation my mask gave me while my parents were full of Covid.
Very glad to report that they have come through it. It was very depleting for Mum, enervating. She is glad to feel the energy returning. Dad, because of the short term memory loss, never really registered it, and his energy, too, is back. Such as it is. It can be dispiriting to see his world so diminished, but there are still surprising flashes of vitality. I clumsily bumped the newspaper on his lap and sent his glasses flying. The cricketer in him is still fielding. Out snapped his arm to grab them, no harm done. I wasn’t that quick when I was 16, and let’s see if I even make it to 96.
Also, a warm welcome to readers who joined this week — Willkommen! And bienvenue! Welcome! — as we follow the continuing saga of a party drawing from a deep well of a certain kind of man, almost as though these swaggering young white guys are not so much an exception as a prevailing type.
