Gardening this week. A risky pursuit I try to avoid at the best of times. Bitten by some cowardly little bastard thing hiding in the grass. The doctor thinks it was a white-tail spider. “This can lead to necrosis,” she cheerfully explained. “That means ‘going rotten’, so you probably won’t notice any difference.”
She prescribed anti-hysterics, anti-erotics and anti-something-else which google tells me could give me vaginal itch. She also offered me free ear wax removal. Generous, I thought.
Meanwhile, in the UK there are now 3.7 million cases of covid, doubling weekly in the over sixties. My daughter sent me an email from Suffolk this week:
“One guy we know is all macho and decided vaccines/lockdowns aren't for him. Then got covid and spent many panicky, unwell days in bed. He bought himself an oxygen monitor which started displaying a level which meant he was hypoxic and at death's door. Using his last breaths, he called a medical professional to come and help in his dying moments, only to be told he was reading it upside down - oxygen levels normal.”
Her daughter, my granddaughter, contracted covid over Christmas. Her RAT (Rarely Affordable or Available-here-in-Australia Test) result is in the other photo attached. She’s fine.
Oh well. At least we’re alive and marching defiantly into 2022. Take care everyone.
Tony Hann
