We remember what we were doing in May 2020, precisely because we weren’t doing much. We were living through the first lockdown here on Plague Island, where we had been instructed by the government to, ‘Stay Home. Protect the NHS. Save Lives’. Along with millions of others, we weren’t going out. We were separated from loved ones. Our children’s schools were closed. Life as we knew it had stopped, and we didn’t know when it would ever get back to normal again. Everything was very strange.
To say that this time has left an indelible mark upon us is an understatement.
There is now much debate about what Boris Johnson was doing in May 2020. A photograph has emerged that looks like he was having somewhat of a shindig in the garden of No.10. The official excuse – and let’s be clear it is an excuse – is that it was a ‘work meeting’.
How many times have you taken your partner and baby to a work meeting? Where are their laptops/pens/notebooks/whiteboards, etc? How many times have you had wine and cheese at a work meeting?
Then, our bimbo of a deputy-PM, Dominic Raab, has tried to defend Johnson for this, contradicting the official line by saying people were only having a drink after working that day. That’s not the same as a work meeting! Yet more lies, evidently. Even if we accept that excuse, it is obscene. Doctors, nurses and carers, etc, were literally dying on the front line using inadequate PPE (because of Matt Hancock’s dodgy contracts), others in financial need were using foodbanks and some families were battling for free school meals to use over the holidays. Around the same time, our so-called betters, publicly insisting ‘we’re all in this together’ were privately sitting in their walled citadel, drinking wine and eating cheese, no doubt bought by tax-payers money whilst the world outside burned. In the lead up to these events there was also the great Downing Street refurbishment. Who knows: maybe that’s why Boris, Carrie and baby Wilfred had to be in the garden?
Out of the two options, ‘It was a meeting’, and/or ’It was post-work drinks’, are the tales they’d prefer to spin because the alternative is that they were actually partying. With that alternative comes an even more grim realisation: as they were partying, people could not comfort loved ones as they lay dying. They could not say goodbye face-to-face. Neither could they attend funerals all together to bury their loved ones due to restrictions at gatherings.
Let that sink in. Think about what that means.
The truth is, they do not inhabit the same world as us. They are so far removed from reality, it would be farcical if only it didn’t have such dire consequences. A significant problem is that because they had summer and Christmas meetings/gatherings, whatever you want to call them, people will die now because whilst Johnson is trying to navigate the mess caused by these damning stories and photos, he won’t take appropriate disease-control measures. Even if he does, it will be too late and also, because he’s lost all moral authority, people feel understandably outraged, and so will ignore advice. Therefore, the virus will continue to spread.
Here is a view from our garden from May 2020. Life had become so contained that I spent a lot of that time taking photographs of the garden in our tiny corner of the world, as we watched the flowers bloom against the unbelievably beautiful spring skies. This is apt because it echoes what Pablo Neruda famously said: ‘You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.’
Brighter times are coming. We see tiny glimmers every day in people, and in every small act of defiance against this bloated, corrupt sado-populist sham we have in government right now. One day, it will all be over. In the meantime however, hold on tight to each other, and take good care of everything.
~ L&A 21.12.21 ~