While still awaiting news of who may have climbed the Greasy Council pole
which will come next Wednesday (Leaf, Gower, who knows?) and nine months after I last ate out life
took just a little step towards normality yesterday and again today. Three of us
went to a café. Sanitise your hands at the door - I didn’t (alcohol and
eczema don’t mix). Stand up? Then wear a mask - two of us did. Only one person per table to place an order. Ignored. Give your
address. One of us did. Sit at the table to be served. Masks off. Counter
assistant delivered meal to three unmasked gents at table. Leaned right over us
but masks and plastic screens were essentials when she took the order.
Toilets locked. Leave only by the back door. We won’t be going back.
Three of us sitting elbow by elbow in a café. All OK. Return to one gent’s house afterwards. Three households, illegal. Maybe we ignored it, maybe we didn’t. Nothing makes any sense.
Much the same again today but four of us. Walked into café holding mask. No one inside was wearing one so didn’t bother. Placed order, meal delivered to table. Not a mask in sight. Toilets open and spotless. We will be going back.
Not a lot makes any sense, especially things that Boris and Co. have had a hand in.
Tomorrow I will be with family unseen since September, Easter Egg and unsuitable for posting Christmas present at the ready. I feel better already.