annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


march 25th - Day 3

My phone is being a dick. It was getting low on charge so I plugged it in. The symbol came up to say it was charging but it was still going down, so I googled and it said to drain the battery right out then charge and that would recalibrate it. So I played Wordscrapes - this stupid anagram game that usually drains the battery right down - and it got to 1% or what it claims to be 1% and it's been there for fucking ages, while I upload and edit photos, play games, youtube clips, god knows what else and there it sits at 1%. As I said, it's being a dick.

I'm still doing OK, though missing being with people, a lot. We did a three way facetime this morning - me and both kids - and that made me cry, kind of a happy cry but also not.

I achieved everything on my list for the day, including tidying up the back room so it's not quite such a disgrace to be seen doing yoga in. I forgot to take before photos, with the dog bone, mousetraps, piles of washing waiting to waft themselves upstairs and shelves with everything just rammed in... but these are the after ones:



Still not great, it is the dumping ground really - the other wall is even worse, but at least I found Jarvis who is a fine addition to any room.  I would have done more if there was any way of disposing of rubbish but the tips are closed and we just have one recycling bin and one general bin every fortnight. So I arranged it better instead.

It took me hours to do. I went back to my old method of having a wee pipe of grass,  putting some music on and proceeding very slowly but steadily. When I'd had enough I went to the beach, without the dog as Bloke had taken her out for a long walk on the downs earlier. Under the pier looking west:


and looking east:


Plenty of people but well spread out.

As well as that I did meditation, keyboard practice and a yin yoga session from youtube. I've spoken on the phone to four friends, my sister and both kids.

Neighbour told us that her husband, her Brexit- and Tory-voting husband has lost his job. He's worked for the same firm for eight years as an electrician but somehow they arranged it so he's "self-employed" despite working full-time just for them all those years. It means they can avoid having any responsibility for him and anyone else - no sick pay, holiday pay, redundancy pay, nothing. The self-employed, many of whom are in his position and not really self-employed, are one of the last groups the government is prepared to help and then it's only by changing the rules so they can apply for Universal Credit - the insanely complex, totally inadequate new benefit. He phoned yesterday and was told he was number 1,427 in the queue. He held on all fucking day without getting through then was cut off when the office closed. He went back on at 8 this morning but I don't know if he ever got through. I heard on the radio that the DWP was completely overwhelmed by the numbers claiming and were moving thousands of civil service staff around to try and meet it. And I hear that fucking Farage is now suggesting bunging everyone in the country a grand a month till this is over, not means tested as that would take forever and loads of staff, just let everyone have it. That's even further left than Corbyn. The times we live in, eh?


All good. Night night xxx

12:19 a.m. - 26.03.20


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