As I write the date, 14th May, somewhere, it rings a bell.  A birthday I should have remembered?  A significant date which re-shaped my life?  I am none the wiser, for now, but it shall remain a niggle in the back of my mind, for the rest of the day.  Somehow, with increasing age, one is inclined to doubt the reliability of one’s memory, often with no justification whatsoever.  Strange.  Perhaps it is that, with increasing years comes increasing knowledge – of sorts – and one lives with the fear that some of it might be buried or squashed!  Make any sense or just further confirmation that one’s brain is either scientific or creative?  I was advised to drop Science at school for some reason …

Thursday it is, then.  I have a little diary which I, sporadically, update and I realised, this morning, that I was several days behind.  Not good.  I got completely mixed up with the days.  How can one differentiate when they are all the same?  Even the weather has veered little from constant sunshine varying, only, in temperature from time to time.  It has been a glorious spring as Nature rejoices in the freedom gleaned from our incarceration.  So it is that the word ‘sunny’ is scrawled at the top of almost every entry.  Then what?  Wrote my blog – or my book – went for an evening walk on the beach, rejoiced in a large Gin & Tonic before, during and after dinner then watched ‘Downton’!  Quite honestly, it would be more interesting watching paint dry or perhaps reading one of my old diaries from university days; days filled with encounters, whether voluntary, enforced, unavoidable or just wishful, involving fellow beings of varying identities.  The key is in the word ‘varying’.  Good or bad, variety is the spice of life and to replace it with the mundane is as it sounds – dull.

In these days of same old, same old, there never fails to be something to enrage.  Becca has just shown me the latest entry on some WhatsApp group which suggests, instead of clapping for carers, those who voted Tory should stand on their doorsteps and shout ‘I’m sorry!’.  Incensed.  Who would have the audacity to make such a pathetic, unnecessary statement?  The sort of person whose vocabulary includes the word ‘posh’!  Only today, I heard it used, on television, in reference to a photograph of David Cameron in his garden.  Wearing shorts and a polo shirt, the comment was that he was wearing the same old clothes – but that is what ‘posh’ people do!  Said with feeling and without fear of retaliation, as ever, because posh people don’t … lower themselves.

Posh people, also, tend to be educated in the use of language.  Those running this country – Scotland – maybe not so much!  Has anyone else noticed the vocabulary used in one of those Government health ‘information’ adverts?  Spelling out the criteria regarding self-isolation should somebody be tested positive in your household, my ears immediately picked up the following: ‘Everybody else in your household should not leave the house for 7 days.’!  Sorry? That is the level of intellect attributable to those in charge?  I despair.  Hang on a minute, though, I’ve just got to pop outside and apologise for voting Tory in support of those who have mastered basic grammar!

It was a balmy evening on the beach, earlier – perfect.  However, unusually, there was a car parked at my spot.  Surprised but allowed!  Not the litter discarded beside said car, though, and inches from the bin!  Manny identified the discarded item as a nappy.  Duly noted, as we walked through the dunes to be met by a family of many, one of whom was a toddler.  Benefit of the doubt.  They would pick up their refuse before they left … wouldn’t they?  In fact, when we returned, not only was the car gone but the nappy was still there beside a discarded coffee cup!  Please, someone, explain the mentality of anyone who would choose to visit one of the cleanest, most beautiful beaches in the country and treat it as nothing more than a dump?  This is what makes me so sad – the absence of any respect, whatsoever!  The bin was two feet from their car but they were either too lazy or hellbent on making a statement.  Just what exactly?  We are determined that our four children should be brought up with no standards, no morals and devoid of any respect for the environment.  We can’t be bothered so what are you going to do about it?!  Manny refused to rise to it.  Me? I would definitely have made a comment, aware that any retort would have been aggressive – and unintelligible.  The dictionary on my book shelf contains words appropriate to a time when people were educated and proud.

My cage (appropriate) has been rattled today!  At risk of ditching the positive, however, I must end with my prediction regarding the relaxation of lockdown in Scotland – apropos the instruction of Westminster.  Nicola has remained firm in her stance and there is to be no imminent easing of regulations with regard to social interaction north of the border.  Intelligent?  Discerning?  Neither.  She is, merely, waiting for – and, logically, expecting – an upsurge in the number of positive cases recorded in England as people strive to return to some kind of normality.  Pause, then, for applause!  Anticipating the accolade of ‘her people’ for standing firm, she will, then, grasp the opportunity to cite her performance as indisputable justification of the need for independence.  So predictable.  So tiresome.  So not posh!  No apology.

I feel better for that.  The English language can be a powerful mouthpiece.

Humour is called upon to lighten the mood and, thus, I shall finish with a quote from Manny uttered, tonight, whilst watching my friend Jeremy hosting Who Wants to be a Millionaire?  Encouraged by both offspring to apply for said programme, I agreed to acquiesce but said I would have to lose weight before appearing on television.  Manny’s immediate reply:

Don’t worry, Ma, the chair will still take you!’.

Now, that’s what I call genuine support!

This is Trish, signing off.