Celebrate the Winter Solstice, while awaiting the Omega Armageddon

Cheers to the Winter Solstice

Ann and I like to celebrate the Winter Solstice. I hate winter: it is cold, dark, miserable and damp. I sit under a blanket, shivering with extra jerseys, long socks, or even a coat. Outside, the bare trees are dripping incessantly as though weeping for their lost glory, and underfoot is a sea of mud, waiting to change into treacherous ice before the season is done. The days are short and gloomy, under a monotonous grey sky. But amidst this bleakness, one day stands firm - the turning of the year, when we know we can look forward to gradually lengthening days, brighter skies, and the return of warmth. Thus do we celebrate.

This year, our celebration took us to the Clare Swan. They have had a torrid year with all the restrictions, and even this night, in the midst of the week before Christmas when the place would normally be booked solid with works outings or family celebrations, we were the only souls in the place. Nick was on his own, gloomily serving two permanent bar props in the saloon, and us in the dining area. Following a previous example, we decided to eat out to help out, so went for the full three-course Monty, splitting a bottle of his finest Chablis between us. He had not lit the fire in the restaurant, expecting no guests, so we retired before a roaring fire in the saloon for after dinner drinks, joining the two bar-leaning regulars. They were joined by some woman who was sobbing as though with the intense grief of someone who'd just lost a son, though we never did learn the cause of her distress.
 

Getting home, I was so full and bloated I could not sleep and had to be propped on an extra pillar to lessen the regurgitation. Next day, we both missed breakfast and lunch, and ate only a few crackers and cheese for supper, with no wine.

The Covid waves are progressing well. We are now on Omicron, and for once the PM may have called it right - or at least, been guided forcibly by his cabinet and tory rebels to do the right thing. His decision to hold back from further lockdowns this side of Christmas may be proved correct, is Omicron is as mild as its early promise. Needless to say, he is taking much flack for this from his Welsh and Scottish counterparts, and even the WHO have singled him out for criticism - though since the debacle about their investigation into China's behaviour in all of this, I think they have rather weakened their moral authority. Even Witty has turned from hero to villain by starting to spout political advice rather than just presenting the raw data and leaving it for others to make the judgement. We await the next few weeks with interest, meanwhile being "sensible but cautious", without locking ourselves away or trembling behind the sofa. The time to worry is when the Omega strain hits the world. By then, Covid might evolve to be even more highly infectious, completely impervious to every attempt to vaccinate, and totally deadly - wiping out what is left of civilisation with one final hurrah - that surely will be Armageddon.