I failed. Once a news junkie always a news junkie. It’s a drug and I am an addict. My favourite job when I was a journalist was cutting the papers. This was a time when Fleet Street was booming. When the Amstrad had not yet hit our desks. A time when we smoked and drank without health and safety warnings. We stayed out late without concerns about the morning and before the accountants told the owners it was time to move. It was a time before it all became sanitised. My day would begin with a cup of coffee, a cigarette, a pair of scissors and all the daily papers. Pure joy. Great way to start the day. Doing it online doesn’t give you the same buzz. It is the physical activity of something tangible like newspaper and a pair of scissors. Ok so I am just an old fogey.
I have also failed to understand why we suddenly have so much money for Boris to promise billions to invest. One minute we are in austerity and then suddenly we have all this dosh. Has it been hiding under a bed at Number 10? I admit that I am fiscally challenged but anyone else share my confusion? In a bid to become a bit more competent I enrolled in an economics masterclass. Five minutes in and I needed a dictionary. Some people’s brains are just wired differently. I have finished the first section and quite honestly, I am now even more confused. None of it seems real. It all relies on so many intangibles. It’s a bit like juggling and trying to keep all the balls in the air at the same time. And at this moment the balls are not looking very steady. The economist talks about Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. Remember the Road Runner cartoon when Wile E. Coyote was tricked for the umpteenth time into running off the edge of a tall cliff, when he appeared to be momentarily suspended in mid-air before plummeting towards the ground. It was only when he looked down that he fell. Well it seems that is what it is all about. I know a very simplistic explanation from a complete economic ignoramus.
What happened to funny Roma one of my friends asked. She complained that my blogs were getting a bit heavy. That I am no longer ‘fun Bobby’. Fans of Friends will get this. She might be right. I blame the news. But before I change track, I have to share the video below with you. It seems that some Americans have a direct line with God when it comes to the topic of masks. It could be a comedy but sadly it isn’t. I watched in horror as Florida residents have their say on wearing masks in public places. I will leave you to experience the full extent of the moronic comments. (Moron has become my go to word during this pandemic) but as a taster one woman said that she doesn’t wear underwear for the same reason that she won’t wear a mask – “stuff has to breath” and another said that God has given us the miracle of breath and now the state wants to take it away. This is why Trump just might get re-elected if he doesn’t pull out of the race. Please watch it so you understand what is happening in America right now.
On my dog walk today I watched a bunch of children jumping off the edge of the bank and swinging across the river. There were squeals of delights and laughter as they showed their prowess in managing this difficult manoeuvre. Took me back to my local gang days. In order to join the gang, you had to perform certain tasks. One was jumping off the bank and swinging across the river at the bottom of our garden. The leader – a boy called Oliver, who I could quite imagine that nowadays would have been in a far more questionable gang than was ours — said I had to do it with my eyes closed. I was 9. Needless to say, he lied, and I fell flat on my face. He also said that I had to take my knickers down to join the gang. It was just me and one other girl in the gang – a girl called Angela who would have happily taken her knickers down for anybody. When I refused (my mother had instilled into me the importance of keeping my knickers on at all times) my brother stepped in and said it was ok because he had already ‘seen it.’
I leave you today with new research from the University of Nottingham into the likelihood of alien civilisations in our galaxy. Apparently, there are just over 30 each with intelligence and technology to contact other planets. However, the chances of contacting any of them are very slim because the closest one is likely to be 17,000 light years away which means that communication would take 6,120 years.
See being a news junkie has its positives.
“Let’s be careful out there”