My office is hidden in the bottom corner of the house, protected from the sunshine by several trees and several other bits of building.
In winter, it can get pretty cool in here, given that it doesn’t see any sun at all. In summer – most especially on days like today – it offers a merciful release from the heat. I was up early to take the boy to A Thing and it was 27oC at 7:15 this morning. It’s clearly going to be a scorcher, as promised.
I have thus retreated to my office, where I have placed the beagle’s bed, so that it too may enjoy a little respite from the ridiculousness outside.
There is a TV in here for the footy later, and there is – of course – my giant beanbag for comfort. No fridge, but the bar is just there [points yonder], and that holds the promise of plenty (or more) cold beers.
I’m settled for the day.
Stay safe, stay hydrated.
I’m (almost) avoiding any comment on this, Day 666 of SA’s lockdown. It’s a day very much like any other, and if someone tries to tell you today that the Rothschilds are working with the Lizard people and Bill Gates to depopulate the planet before Nibiru comes upon us, simply because of the significance of the number above, then they need help and you should get it for them.
However, in the most tenuous link possible, it does seem like there is set to be some hellishly hot weather on the way:
Yeah. That doesn’t sound like fun.
So what I thought we’d do, given that sort of heat, is to walk up Table Mountain.
Yep. That seems the most sensible option to take, given the lack of incline and the wide availability of copious shade that Table Mountain is well known for.
It’s a long story and a crazy plan, but it has to be – and will be – done.
Meanwhile, there are weather warnings in Dubai this weekend as well:
“Especially cold”. “Dipping below 20oC”.
According to this article – written by a Professor of Health Sciences, a Distinguished Professor of Chemistry, a Professor of Mechanical Engineering and… er… a Research Scientist punching way above his weight – being with a lot of people, in a poorly ventilated space, without face coverings or while singing, shouting and exercising, (or any combination of the above) can result in a higher likelihood of you catching Covid-19.
This isn’t new news, of course. We’ve known all of these things for quite a while, but the authors here have come up with a way of putting a figure on each of the scenarios. They’ve even made a calculator for you to estimate your own risk in doing whatever you are doing, including how long you are doing it for.
But these are just estimates. We can’t put an exact figure on any of this. And we can’t say that being with someone silently, outdoors, with a mask on, in the breeze means that you won’t get Covid. This is a Swiss Cheese Defence, where no one single precaution will prevent transmission completely, but where a combination of efforts can limit your chances of being infected. The more precautions you take, the more likely you are to avoid getting it.
Of course, underpinning all of this is our best weapon: the vaccine. That’s the single thing you can do to protect yourself and your family more than anything else.
This is especially important to understand with the Omicron variant, given that it is so much more infectious than the previous iterations of the virus. And I know that you knew all this already, but there are an increasing number of people who are proclaiming that the pandemic is over, and thus giving up on the measures to stop it, and that is still a bit of a stretch. We’re not there yet.
Avoid klapping gym boet in an overcrowded Crossfit place built in a light industrial unit.
Or going to church.
There was a bit of an incident yesterday involving a bridge, some wet leaves, some inappropriate footwear for the conditions, and a known quantity of gravity.
Gravity did prevail, as it always does eventually, but there was at least something of an short-lived fight put up before its victory, during which brief period, I threw shapes like a shellsuit-clad, late-80s, Albanian break-dancer.
The fight (such as it was) did mean that my actual fall was mercifully underwhelming, but the amount of sheer energy immediately expelled – together with the extreme contortions on my way down – have left me rather jarred today.
Everything (and I do mean everything) hurts.
I was already having a bit of an iffy week. Nothing too terrible, but there were some noticeable LC symptoms about. Odd aches and pains here and there, some degree of excess fatigue and a memory like a… like a… oh, whatever. I don’t think this had anything to do with the fall: anyone wearing those sort of slops on that sort of wet leafy surface (and under the seemingly omnipresent force of gravity) would also have gone down like Jessie Lingard “near” a defender.
I’m hoping that some extra rest this morning and some sensible activity will prepare and re-condition me for this weekend’s crazy plan, which I haven’t dared mention on here yet, but will elaborate upon over the coming days.
Suffice to say that – given my condition (even pre-yesterday) – it will be the biggest physical challenge for me for quite a while.
I can’t wait.
Right now though, more painkillers.
Spotted online earlier in the week and… I don’t know… it feels like there is something deeper to this than just a plaque on a tree.
Why did no-one notice? Were you particularly sneaky in your escape? Were you not adding any value to the gathering? How do you know no-one has realised? Do you have a spy at the gig? And if so, hasn’t he or she noticed that you’ve left?
Was there even a party?
And then there’s the question as to why there’s a plaque on a tree at all…
Read more about the Irish Exit here.