MenoAZinkulling; B

This month here at the Wild YAMster's bloggy, you are going to be regaled with words related to feelings and happenings of the last twelve months. Oh yes, you know of what I talk.  This is to be the ALPHABET OF AAARRGFIZZZ... We've all had to deal with it. This will be a reflection purely from my point of view. You don't necessarily have to agree with what I say, just appreciate where it's coming from. Normal service will resume on May Day. (By which time I may be yelling that down the ether phone loud and repetitively!)

☀♉☀

What might my keywords be for the last year in relation to the letter B? The first word that came to mind was Bawling. This confused me a tad, but then I looked back and realised that I had spent a few sessions of bawling in the Bathroom. At #15, I occupied the annexe room which has an ensuite. I could let go in there with little fear of being overheard. (This is the first time I have owned up to this, but you can keep a secret, can't you?)

Yeah. After that bout of lurgy in Feb 2020, I seemed to have become a Blubber-puss. Mac1 could see I was a bit shredded at the seams... but to be fair, she was pretty much under the cosh herself. Being a speech therapist in the employ of the NHS, she was taking up extra duties on the 'behind the frontline' aspects; dealing with patients who were moved out of ICU but were unable to return home due to deeper symptoms. It was emerging that brain injury, or something resembling it, was one of the side effects of the lurgy. For the first eight weeks at #15 after lockdown, it was just me and dad, neither of us in good condition.

I had already been doing our household shopping online with our local big supermarket. However, you may recall, there was panic buying by many folk and at first, all home deliveries were ceased. I went into Battle. I addressed a letter to the CEO of that company with the notion that those of us who were of a certain age and shielding required some priority. I received a wonderful letter in return saying that all the points I'd laid out made sense - and that three other similar letters had been received from different parts of the isles... and as a result, action was taken. That supermarket was the first off the rank with properly managed online shopping, but the others very quickly took up the pattern, identifying those in most need and applying special timings for them. I received (and presumably the other initiators also) continuing personal letters from the CEO checking how things were going. He retired from his post in late May but I shall always be grateful to him. It also brought home the appreciation that those in the food distribution industry were as much of importance to wider society as the health workers were to those directly infected. 

Behind closed doors, folk had to find ways to entertain themselves - and any family who might be with them. We took to Binge-watching shows we would never have watched otherwise. Baking rose in many an oven.

The Boxer known as A-Biffer da Puffler Juston, who had previous for thinking himself the 'new Winston', sparred with the notion that war-words and sentiment would Bolster the mood of 'the nation' (which to him includes those bits he thinks of as 'extended regions of England, being the devolved nations of the disUK). He floated like a butterpig and stunk like a bug. The man proved right from the very first suggestions of impending doom that he had no grip on reality. It also became extremely clear that what was said one minute would be refuted the next, on a continual basis...

Meanwhile, up north, oor wee Nicola was several steps ahead...

See you tomorrow for the ongoing saga. Please be aware that there is more I amAZing over at 

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