As children we played
It, British Bulldog and Kiss Chase
until told not to.
n.b. See the power of words?
Out briefly today in sunshine. I forgot my gloves, but was surprised by the mildness of the air.
People maintaining good distances from each other; joggers running well wide of pedestrians; people stepping back to let others pass. There is no rush when people are on foot.
A taxi driver tries to squeeze past me when I am cycling through the city centre. He attempts to cut in before some bollards, then realises there isn’t enough room, so has to brake and wait until I am through the gap. Something is said through his open passenger side window as he passes, but I did not hear what. I keep pedalling.
I see him get out of his vehicle by the market. He carefully puts on his mask and goes into a grocery store. Funny he chooses to follow rules on foot, but had no regard for the 20 mph rule on the road. I say nothing.
The city is littered with debris from last night’s gale. Nothing remarkable, just twigs and pieces of branches, bits of rubbish pulled by the wind from bins and strewn around the streets, which are usually so tidy.
Storm Christoph has barely touched Norwich.
Look for quick singles
Yes! No! Sorry. My mistake.
Takes two to Tango
n.b. Continuing with the cricketing theme, communication between batters is either a strength or a weakness. It is about being in tune with your partner. As in cricket, as in life.
Here is a clip of a classic cricketing communication breakdown for your edification. Stick with it to the end to see the culprit’s body language. Oops!
a date from history when
cholera took hold
n.b. Now 1,820 is the worst daily death toll in the UK during the coronavirus pandemic of 2020 / 21. This is dreadful.
The cholera pandemic around the year 1820 killed uncountable millions.
The door clicks a jar
compresses the draught
to a whistle that wakes me
from your arms, her arms, my brother’s
hand I held through a summer
night in the respiratory ward
down the corridor from coronary care
where he would be the next summer
and no one could visit
while he dreamt of life and dying
surviving dreams of dreaming
and not divining what was remembered
or dreamt even when sent home
to live as best he might when so tired
of medication and interventions
when all he wanted was to live
and love and still be the man