Is anyone else surprised that no journalist has picked up on the tenor of Donald Trump’s messaging? He is behaving like Enterprise USA’s chief procurement officer. The virus has not respected his Easter deadline and is proving a stubborn interruption to America’s greatness.
Global infections number 786,608 with 37,832 deaths. Australia now has 4,557 cases with 312 more today and now 19 deaths. NSW has had 2,032 cases identified but ‘only’ 114 new ones since yesterday.
Zoom has enabled contactless grand-parenting. Two sons live and work at the epicenter of non-compliance, and now, not surprisingly, a cluster of infection has emerged there (backpackers suspected). As an indicator of my vulnerability, I now qualify for the Woolworths old fogies provisions. We can’t take flight so might as well stay and fight. Not going anywhere so no need for new clothes, in fact, you can wear the same gear for four consecutive days. Perhaps fashion spring catalogues will bring us out-of-hibernation offerings?
My elder sister Maureen reports from her suburban dugout that she returned on the Sea Princess on the eighteenth of March after completing only 8 of a scheduled 28 day circumnavigation of Oz. She then attended a funeral at a time when you could still have more than 10 in attendance. A notable reflection was that, at 100, she was born into the Spanish flu and went out during the Corona virus. It has been said that, in a similar auspicious bookending to a life, that Mark Twain was born and died at consecutive sightings of Halley’s Comet, 76 years apart.
I have plenty of ‘while in isolation’ reading material now augmented by The Australian Writers’ Centre. I won a competition to write 50 words on where I would like to be transported to. I will receive a copy of Death in the Ladies Goddess Club by Julian Leatherdale, set in 1930s Kings Cross.
Awesomely Astute 