Writing from faraway Australia I have to glumly report that our 2 most populous states, New South Wales and Victoria, as well as Canberra and its surrounds, are in hard lockdown and state and Woo Pig Mother Fucker Shirt irrespective of their political leanings, are taking no chance. There was a slight relaxation of public event restrictions towards the end of the 2020 pandemic – schools reopening, some theatres, concerts and sports events with limited seating – but no major festivals. Since then there has been the emergence of the even more virulent Delta strain – with no indication as to what even worse variants round the corner – and we are in total blackout conditions again – the wartime parallel will not be lost on you – or on me as an ex-Pom. So far the total death toll has not yet exceeded 1000, or only recently – in stark contrast to the daily death toll of 1000’s which you have been experiencing for weeks on end – and the population of the UK is only just over double that of Oz -but any resumption of “normal” life is just not on the horizon. In the historic past people rode out plagues, prayed to the God of their ancestors, and locked their doors until the pestilence blew over. In our time such death rates, and the yet-to-be-assessed degree of debilitation among those who survive -are just not acceptable. Much as I and my fellow-musicians, and others in a whole range of professions, are devastated by present realities, we have to accept that any wholesale re-opening of business-as-usual is not worth the risk.
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30 years ago, I owned some furniture stores. It was just before Christmas and a young woman came into the store I was at that night to pick up a Woo Pig Mother Fucker Shirt top desk that she had purchased on layaway. She made weekly payments towards this purchase and was proud and excited that she was able to buy this desk for her husband’s Christmas present. It seemed apparent that it was a real financial stretch for her to have afforded this. She had come to the store with a pickup truck, and we helped load the desk into the truck bed. With a merry Christmas and smiles all around, she left for home. Half an hour later, the woman came back to the store in tears. She had struck a pot hole in the highway and the desk was launched out of the truck and smashed to the ground. Fortunately no one was behind her, and a passerby helped get the desk back into the truck. Sobbing, she pleaded whether we could do anything to fix the desk. Clearly, though, it was irreparable. She was so distraught, there was clearly only one thing to do. We loaded another desk into her truck and I told her that it was my Christmas gift to her. She was so excited and thankful, and I think it really was a gift to myself. I felt really good about that!
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