19.04.2020 Day 38 of self isolation.

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Sunday 19th 40F, bright sunshine again but with an easterly breeze. Some cloud is coming rather quickly from the northeast. My kneecaps have stopped hurting.

A walk to the village and back. Traffic very light. Lots of small birds. Including a Greenfinch wheezing by the church. The whitewash painters had been in despite the lack of services. Their lives made easier by a mobile, hydraulic lift. Where once they would have scaffolded the entire building. Two cats raced across the road as if their lives depended on it and probably did.

The news is no different to every other day. A distant, virtual roar of idiocy, misery and suffering. The corruption and obscenity of all the evil old superstitions persist and fell the deluded. Thankfully it hardly affects us here in our isolated, rural bubble. The [mostly] quiet routines of getting another day, month and year ticked off.

Except that we must always remember to maintain the hygiene rules for everything which comes through the gate. We wear gloves while every item of delivered groceries is washed where practical. If not, it is set aside and left for as long as possible. You would no believe how brown the water gets just from wiping down half a dozen milk cartons!

Any post, newspapers and advertising material is treated as highly suspect. Brought in and checked while wearing disposable gloves. Then left for as long as possible before it is handled again. The internet provides all the news and advertising one could possibly resent. The same old transparent lies, twisted truths and total bullshit.

I have no idea why we don't just notify the advertising delivery service that we are tired of their pointless leaflets piling up unread. You can't even use it for lighting the stove in winter. Which might have made it superficially useful rather than just more landfill.

I passed an open doorway in the city, years ago. A messy mound of advertising newspapers four feet high and deep was spread over the entire entrance hall floor of a multi occupation building. Why, on earth would they keep delivering the stuff? Not to mention the potential fire hazard.

I have washed my hands so often that my knuckles are sore. Some relief is afforded from traditional greasy, zinc, baby cream. Others and supposed moisturizing oils, had absolutely no perceivable effect. I wonder how many other people wash their hands properly?

It used to be all but impossible to get nurses in ICU to wash their hands after toilet visits. I had family working in the intensive hospital wards and they kept on and on about it. Why would you ever have to ask a grown adult whether they had washed their hands? Did they have no running water where they were brought up?

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