This week, I have witnessed some urban guerrilla resistance activity, been pinged by NHS Protect Scotland, and discovered to my eternal horror the grisly effect that leaving the EU has had upon us.
So, in order of events, the urban resistance happened in the leafy avenues of Morningside. The route I embark with almost identical regularity on my lunchtime stroll with Daisy finds me arriving at the south gate entrance to the Morningside cemetery. This lovely graveyard contains many aged headstones but is still in use and open to the public. Being very well-maintained, it is respectfully used by locals and is popular with dogs accompanied by their companions, strolling the pathways. A pleasant, tranquil place to exercise, surrounded by houses on all sides. A neat juxtaposition, I suppose, of the living and those now departed.
Approaching the entrance, I noticed a note tied to the gate, all the more remarkable as it was handwritten and in capital letters. Naturally, I stopped to read this curiosity. I am unable to recall verbatim what was written, however, the gist was that the author of the notice suggested/requested that as this was an 'active cemetery' (their words not mine), dog walkers should refrain from entering and instead use one of the nearby parks to exercise with their canine pals. The subtext being that dogs were being allowed to defecate in the graveyard, with their human companions not clearing up the mess. That led me to wonder if, given the reason for the objection, the author of the note had really thought their request through. For if so, they seemed to be suggesting that a dog shi**ing in a park, where children were likely to play, was okay. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and put it down to the law of unintended consequences.
The note did disorientate me though, so much so that I decided not to walk through the cemetery and instead walked its outside boundary.
The next day, walking the same route, I noticed the sign had gone, the author had, in today's parlance, been cancelled, though in a gentle way. Not like on social media where, if this had played out, there would no doubt have followed a campaign of vilification launched against the author, with retaliatory comments and abusive messages from his/her supporters. On reflection, I am beginning to think that the sign might have just been removed in an act of kindness toward the author and their seemingly ill-considered message.
I was pinged on Thursday and advised that I should self-isolate for five days. I received a negative reading from my self-administered lateral flow test and booked a PCR in an attempt to be rendered free of isolation. Eighteen hours later, the negative result arrived. This news brought a massive sense of relief along with a new found zeal for completely ignoring friends, relatives and acquaintances I may now have the misfortune to pass in the street. If you know me, please do not be offended if I just rush past, it is not personal (well mostly not).
Perhaps the worst thing that happened though was finding out the true cost of our having left the EU. I had noticed for a while that some items of confectionary seemed in short supply in our local supermarket shelves – in particular Cadbury's flake. I hadn't given it much thought until I was informed that the dearth had been caused by import issues exacerbated by the shortage of truck drivers in the UK. To be fair, I have been ambivalent in the past as far as the flake goes and would have remained so if I had not been given this news. It now hangs over me like the mighty Sword of Damocles.
Just in case there is anyone who is remotely interested in my battle with garden rats
, here is an update. So far, the Gingbau raccoon size trap has worked. It has caught three field mice and two sparrows. The mice looked irritated as they were released while the sparrows continued eating the seed from the trap release before departing. While inside, they were surrounded by brothers pecking the grass outside unconcerned. We did not catch but seriously annoyed a young hooded crow that pushed the cage over to shake out the bait.
Meanwhile, the rats have nipped about the garden freely, ignoring the trap. Either their memories are strong or the bait is wrong. Initially, I used cheese but had been advised that seed balls would be better. Tomorrow, we revert to cheese.
Doubtless in the grand scheme of things, us v rodents is hardly big news. Try telling that to my neighbours...
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