Saturday 2 October 2021

Coronavirus streets in Manchester & Leeds - XLV

Many a gory Tory here

One is glad to desert Manchester for a week as a brief walk around a section of the city around the Manchester Convention Centre gave much meaning to that situation beyond other extenuating circumstances, the police and cordons laid out to insulate the ruling party from its public and the vehemence of misgovernment.

The Tories are coming to Manchester for their annual convention and what an inconvenience it would be to all but the ones in the thrall of Boris Johnson whilst celebrating the apparent successes of Brexit which are patently invisible to most except those with impaired eyesight.

Leading to Leeds

Meanwhile, on a train to Leeds, the rain simply followed relentlessly on a journey that was as uneventful as to be recorded in sleep. Of all of us on my coach, only two of us donned face masks. We are all letting our guard down and this pandemic is hardly over. The UK retained the highest number of new cases worldwide and we are still ahead of our European neighbours in the number of deaths due to COVID-19. [WorldInfoMeters: Coronavirus]

I was last in Leeds just the week before I lost my baby sister, now coming to 5 years. The same hotel, some excuses that I overlooked until I went to the bar and was left feeling quite irked by the time I got to check-in my room.

Oh yes, it’s ladies’ slight

Later, when I went shopping for a few morning goods, the ladies were all more exposed yet bedecked like for a Cinderella summer ball except if I am unaware of some invisible thermal garments to help keep them from freezing in the cold and rain. Their slipper heels as unsteady as walking a rope bridge buffeted by winds strung over a ravine infested with hungry crocodiles in a river last rowed centuries ago.

Obviously, the reference to dress, apparel and appearance is oblique, one for which commentary should be reserved apart from thinking, surely more could be done. Anyway, the pandemic is the last thing on their minds much as hen nights seem to have chosen Leeds for revelry and unspeakable acts of wanton and reckless expression. It’s in the air, maybe no one is breathing it.

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