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Because of the coronavirus, my hands were never as clean. Instead of singing Happy Birthday twice while you hand-wash, as you’re supposed to do, I hum the opening verse of The Animals’ classic rock song; “There is a house in New Orleans – They call the Rising Sun – It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy – And God I know I’m one.” Job done, hands clean.
Mrs P assures me one rendition is enough. Will it be enough to prevent me getting the virus? I doubt it. Will it kill me? I doubt it. Will it mess up the country? Yes.
But it will kill me if I’m laid up in fine weather after months of inactivity.
For my infirm mother, it is indeed life-threatening, as it is for those with chronic illnesses. It is very much a cause for concern but I hope the country doesn’t come to a complete standstill. All in all, between the coronavirus, Brexit, poor political leadership and the lousy weather, it’s a horrendous spring.
I’ve touched on the virus, so next on the list of spring worries is Brexit. I really do not see how a trade deal can be worked out within the UK-imposed timeframe. The British simply cannot have free access to the EU if they are not going to comply with EU standards.
Take glyphosate, for example. If the EU withdraws this product – wrongly in my opinion – and the UK doesn’t, then we can’t allow UK grain in which may have been sprayed with glyphosate. Simple as. It is but one example and there are countless others.
Besides Boris can’t be trusted. He’s even reneging on the border down the Irish Sea. He makes our politicians look like saints. Saint Leo of Lucan? Maybe not. Anyhow, this leads me into the political worry of spring 2020.
Political leadership
Right now, there’s no political leadership and little sign of any. Personally, I’m tired of Saint Leo and his silly posturing playing hard to get. Solid government is needed at this time of national crisis, not seen since the foot-and-mouth outbreak in 2001.
As for the Greens; they may well be left out in the cold but they needn’t worry. We’ve managed to warm it up outside by nearly 20C, with no help from them. This leads me conveniently to the weather which is my final (hopefully) worry of the spring of 2020.
It’s been raining more or less non-stop since the Ploughing. I don’t ever remember such a prolonged period of broken weather. It could get to you and it’s beginning to get to me. I always get anxious at this time of the year and all the more so this spring. Mentally, I’m sagging and I need to get out in the fields away from the coronavirus, Brexit and silly political posturing.
There’s much to be done and patience is going to be needed for the soaking ground to dry out properly. If I get the beans sown in March, I’m happy. We have sown them as late as 20 April before. The problem is not yield but the likelihood of a Halloween harvest.
But when we do get going and the sun’s shining, I might even manage to slip a CD into the tractor’s entertainment centre and turn up the volume to some classic rock like Led Zepp or Deep Purple. Rory Gallagher and his classic Bullfrog Blues could be just the tonic.
Might even give it a try myself as I wash the hands at dinner time. But clean and all as I thought they were, the girl in the pharmacy today told me sharply to take them off the counter. Good job I didn’t touch her …
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