Tesco Delivery Man, up close and personal

Black man in Tesco delivery uniform with a white woman in her 50s, standing in front of his van, smiling

This week has been another difficult week. I’ll start with the Tesco Delivery Man who totally brightened up the week, by the way, for the purpose of people who are offended that we are breaking the ‘rules’, I’ll tell you, there is a possibility this photo was taken before lockdown, last March. Why do I find myself saying this? For fear of an aggressive attack from friends or anyone who sees this, or Tesco firing my lovely Delivery Man. I am scared of attack, just by having a photo of me with this man, enjoying interaction, neither of us wearing masks, neither of us 2 metres apart. During lockdown, one of my Tesco delivery men was sooo happy that I would talk with him, he came into the house, took off his mask and hugged me. He may not have been hugged for weeks, I kept that such a secret for fear of people thinking I now had the plague. By the way, if you’re organising a funeral, speak with the crematorium first about the seating, I have just seen footage of a family at a crematorium in Milton Keynes, they had to sit apart (obviously, because of this inhumane ‘rule’), when their father was being cremated (at least in Southampton crem we were allowed to sit with partners! Well, some of us were). When the ceremony began, the sons pull their seats over to sit with their Mum, who was, obviously, distressed, another man does the same to sit with his wife, then, a masked security man interrupts the service and tells them to stay sat apart, despite this family having been bubbled for weeks, caring for their father. This isn’t human. ‘BUBBLED’ for fuck sake, all these terms, all nonsense. I can’t believe I’m even writing them, endorsing their existence. And as for kids not being allowed to sing happy birthday in school, and as for no singing and dancing in pubs, and as for, and I kid you not, in London Fields Taproom they state, within their house rules, “No handshaking, high fiving or extended eye contact with anyone not on your table” I kid you not. NO EXTENDED EYE CONTACT WITH ANYONE, I REPEAT ANYONE, NOT ON YOUR TABLE.

This week I started back at the FE college I work. My body seized up, fizzing MS symptoms in my legs as I took on the anxiety, tension, stress from the vibrations and all I encountered. No “Hello, how are you?” It’s “Have you got a mask?” Orders, “Walk that way, not this way.” “Is this room big enough for two people?” Every new encounter is like playing a game of snakes and ladders, as a disabled person, this is difficult, stressful and sometimes impossible. Wearing my mask exempt lanyard, I get dirty looks, some run away from me, like I’ve got the plague “Why are you exempt?” some ask, “If you get me a seat, I shall tell you. The short version takes 5 minutes, the longer version is a weekend mind/body workshop, it begins with childhood trauma includes the psychology of brainwashing, the theory behind ‘divide and conquer’, an in-depth session on how our immune system works with viruses, and what a post virus is all about and how to deal with it, what fear is, and how it can be turned into aggression and control, then, towards the end of the show, I get out a vapour and ask to borrow a mask and I shall blow through so you can see the vapour coming out. I shall also provide a reading list, and video list. Actually, this will be a week-long course, I’ll invite guest doctors, nutritionists, immunologists and the Queen’s homeopath.”

The anxiety and tension all around has turned into aggression, thermometer guns point at our heads as the world, THE WORLD (apart from Nicaragua), is swept along, engrained in powerful dynamics that aren’t easily explained. Do you remember when mandatory vaccinations, cashless society, facial recognition, mass censorship, microchips and 5g infrastructure, used to be a conspiracy theory?

Watching Professor Wittless and Sir Patrick Unbalanced (who we now know has shares in the vaccine companies), is like watching a punch and Judy show, bashing sausages over a Doris Johnson who has his legs crossed, like a child crossing his fingers behind his back because he’s lying, but probably doesn’t understand why he is lying. Nothing is true on the BBC, I’m telling you, just the latest warped scores coming in, who’s in the lead re cases? Let’s get the students up there, they’re at the top of the league right now. The 2nd wave is about testing, that’s all, tests that Madge Hancock admits aren’t reliable, at all. And they’re not. We don’t need names/testing for viruses, we don’t need names for storms, they are storms. This is not a pandemic, it’s not a plague, it’s a plandemic, a psychological experiment, set up to scare the crap out of us all and take away our liberty.

I’m a nut job if you like, but the job of the nut is to sew the seed, and the tree grows. I listen to my gut, it’s always right, and my MS symptoms tell me what’s going on, with the link between my mind and body, and my world. I need to feel liberated as an adult, my childhood was not, I was intruded upon and I shall not allow rules to intrude upon my liberty as an adult. A paedo ring will practice for decades, sometimes lifetimes before lines of enquiry are pursued and justice is upheld, take Jimmy Saville, the hidden interview with Johnny Lydon that emerged from the BBC, decades later, says it all. Just you wait, he says. Who believed that our lovable Rolf Harris would do such things? The paedos and world leaders (basically the drug companies running the world/WHO) are not so different, their intercourse is power instead of children, I only hope instead!

When I think about the kids right now, I am reminded of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the child catcher and the Pied Piper of Hamelin, Doris and politicians are tricked by world leaders and now our kids and us (treated like the rats), will pay for decades to come. “We’re all doomed. Doomed” says Private Frazer of Dad’s Army. Our daily death toll (and I’m not talking of Coronavirus, this was always a low mortality rate, says so on the government website), I’m talking deaths from suicide, undiagnosed cancer, respiratory and heart diseases, deaths of broken hearts, literally broken hearts, I was born with a hole in my heart, it’s taken a lifetime to understand the whole of the heart) reminds me of the film Death Race 2000, all countries competing.

When I went to East Berlin in 1987, just for one day (and they kicked me out at Checkpoint Charlie cause I looked like a punk, I had to redress and go via the underground the following day), just 6 months before, David Bowie sang Heros over the Berlin wall which caused riots in the East. The wall did come down, and so will ours, with the masks. We’re not all doomed, I promise you. Good will always override bad. I visualise David, in Mars, looking down on us (certainly not up), singing Heros, if only he would come back, just for one day, to see this madness and sing me a rendition of the laughing gnome, my favourite Bowie song, and why I have an obsession with gnomes. On this note I shall write (I have only sung this song twice before) the lyrics of my interpretation of Star Man. It is about a Spa Man, and no one has been able to enjoy a spa for months. My husband and I, however, sought out a wood-burning hot tub in Suffolk for our anniversary weekend, I am truly grateful for this.

SPA MAN

Didn’t know what time it was but the lights were low, o , o

A leaned back, in the hot tub ,o,o,o

A French couple were gettting it on, o , o, o, o, o,

da, da da da da da

There’s Spa Man, waiting in the corner

He’d like to come and meet us

But he’s stuck there in the sauna

There’s a Spa Man, waiting in the corner

He’s told us not to blow it

Cause he knows he’d get kicked out if he did

He told me

Keep the children away

Keep the children away from me

Let all the children boogie

I had to phone someone so I picked on you, oo , oo

Hey that’s far out, the car’s broken down too, oo , oo

Switch it on and off and it may start again, o, o ,o, o, o

Look out the window I can see your lights on

I should be able to find out what’s wrong, ong , ong

There’s a Car Man, waiting in the lane

He’s come out now to meet me

He’s not charging me a call out fee

There’s a Car Man, waiitng in the lane

He’s told me not to blow it

cause he knows that would be too exciting, he told me

Keep the children away

Keep the children away from me

Let all the children boogie

I had to buy a drink so I picked on you, oo, oo

That’s far out, I can make orgasm cocktails too, oo , oo

There was a group of under 18’s queuing up for the pub loo, oo, oo

There’s a Bar Man, stuck behind the bar

He’d like to come and meet us but he’s shift doesn’t end til Xmas

There’s a Bar Man, stuck behind the bar

He’s told me not to blow his cover

Cause he knows I’m not an underage lover

He told me

Keep the children away

Keep the children away from me

Let all the children boogie

I didn’t know what time it was but it wouldn’t matter to you, oo , oo

You’re up day and night with the sheep and cows, moo, oo , oo

It’s a hard and isolated life for you, oo, oo

There’s a Farm Hand, waiting in the barn

He’d like to come and meet us

But he can’t get off the farm

There’s a Farm Hand, waiting in the barn

He told us not to blow his mind

With relationships of a human kind

He told me

Keep the sheep away

Keep the sheep away from me

Let all the sheep boogie

A white bald man with a beard in a outdoor hot tub waving

My husband, (No. 101 in my book, from Essex to London in 101 boyfriends) the nearest we could get to a spa, in these difficult times celebrating our wedding anniversary

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