Tag Archives: COVID-19

Baby steps and snail’s pace

Spring’s on the horizon, traditionally a time to pick up the pace. But as February storms and relentless rain have battered spirits and prevented any meaningful return to the outside world, there have been moments when it’s been difficult to do much more than limp forward. This ongoing limbo is pants. The light is supposed

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A conversation killer

Summer’s coming but the subject matter remains the same. Covid, bloody Covid. The damned virus just will not go away. Wait! Before you all start protesting that Covid-19 will never go away, viruses just keep mutating and last FOREVER – I do know that, thanks. But nearly 18 months since we started to hear about

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Sweaty Betty

Don’t let appearances deceive you, I am actually an athlete. Yesterday I managed a whole 3k. Actually, it was 2.94k of snail’s pace jogging but it’s always important to exaggerate one’s sporting endeavours. And believe me, that 2.94k felt worthy of a podium place after almost a year of doing heehaw to get a sweat

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Mouldy old dough

Flat as a pancake. My mood, that is. But given that we’re all in the same pandemic-riddled situation, swamped by a dank, oppressive January gloom, I thought I might offer up a bit of levity. Or should that be levain? Veteran and budding bakers will be familiar with that word, indeed it may fill some

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Apocalypse now, or just dress rehearsal?

The depths of winter and the short days don’t help lift the midwinter gloom, but at least recent bright skies and glittering frost have offered some cheer. Sadly, sparkling patterns and dainty ice-drapery are not enough to silence the doomsday chorus which is currently building up to a crescendo. I wouldn’t normally describe myself as

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Sleepwalking in small business

Blurry, foggy and fuzzy. Everything feels so indistinct these days. It’s difficult to grasp anything tangible, let alone find a break in the clouds to gaze at distant horizons. Never mind taking the long view, when it comes to commerce I can barely see into next week. No, I’ve not ground to a halt or

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Real people and rose gardens

It’s seismic stuff, innit. The last 66 days of Covid lockdown have meant massive change for absolutely everyone and everything. No part of our daily lives has been unaffected. The ripples have reached families and individuals, businesses and services, routines and recreation, even institutions have felt the fallout – just look at Westminster… One of the places where

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The Covid cling on

Throw me a lifebuoy FFS, I’m drowning. Well okay, then not drowning, but definitely doing a lot of treading water to keep the auld napper above the waves. Some days my personal pandemic psychology is rock solid, buoyant even. However this week, spirits have taken a bit of a dip, partly because the sun has returned

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The birdsong blues

It all began with a blackbird singing in the dead of night. Last night, to be exact. Not content with living through the disruption caused by the biggest global crisis known in my lifetime, my menopausal combustion engine is firing on all cylinders, causing restless, energy-sapping, sweat-drenched sleep. And so it was at 3.05am in the deep, dark night

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