Wednesday 27 January
Yesterday, my Dad got his first dose of the Covid19 vaccination. In twelve weeks time he will receive the second dose. Still no word from the home of Mum’s vaccination, but whilst they have all residents testing positive it’s probably no surprise. The good news is that Mum is still asymptomatic. Fingers remain crossed.
In other Coronavirus news, yesterday evening it was announced by the prime minister that the country has recorded one-hundred thousand deaths since the pandemic struck. On the radio a doctor was asked how we can possibly make the figures mean more and she replied that we should talk of them being ‘people dying’ rather than simply ‘deaths’. That behind every single one, there was a person who is connected to many more people.
It is looking highly unlikely that we will be reopening schools after half term. BJ has announced this afternoon that the 8th March is the earliest.
It is also looking highly unlikely that we will be able to go to Italy at Easter. Yet another rescheduling of the flights will be needed, meaning more money spent, and more disappointment.
And today, as the nation awakes, there is a noticeably sobering atmosphere across the country. The questions are starting to be asked about why the UK, and England in particular, has recorded such a devastating mortality rate per capita compared to other countries. We are top of a table that you don’t want to be top of.
And yet, outside my windows at home and at work, despite the fog and perpetually wet ground, the birdsong is getting louder. And the birds are more visible, why? Possibly because it is getting lighter and we can see them more? Possibly because it’s entering the season for setting out their territory for mating? Or possibly, because they know we need cheering up? Or maybe all three?
The Bald Birder 