The PR Blog

Redhead bought a new fan a few days ago. One of those tall slim ones that hum away in the background and don't blow your wool off if you are Shaun the Sheep. As always these days, it came in flatpack, and, in the absence of her late husband, it fell to the young neighbour to put the bits together.

I have a love hate relationship with flatpack. I hate putting it together and love it when someone else does the assembly. 

Having worked in a mens maximum security prison, I know all about lock downs. They happened when something was up or something was about to go down. Drugs on the compound, hooch ( illegally brewed alcohol) being hatched in a garden hose somewhere; or the tell tale signs : prisoners returning property to the property store instead of being in their cell. Hair being cut, a change in telephone habits. A riot being planned. 

The easiest way to quell the forment was to lock down, isolate prisoners from each other and cut off their means of communication.

 I read that our Aussie Diggers are under the pump again. Being accused of war crimes and our " esteemed " Prime Minister is on board with this disgraceful character assassination. The armchair experts who feel they have the right to condemn the actions of fellow Australians in the theatre of war.

Like so much of our lives these days, armchair experts are using personal opinion to write our laws, rewrite our history and redefine our future.

People and Governments have squandered 2020 and the wealth and mental health of all citizens because of a Medical Officer's opinion. One so called expert has allowed the Governments to avoid making decisions and taking responsibility.

To those of us who live down under, Summer is a coming in and , for our friends in the Northern Hemisphere, the winter chill is well on its way. 

The strange thing is that the smells associated with our seasons are woven into our memories, like snapshots from the past.

As a child, I grew up in the country and, to this day, the smell of freshly mown grass or newly harvested hay takes me back to a time of happiness and security.

Unlike any other sense, the sense of smell seems to trigger my mind more than any of my other senses.

After months of misery and sticking to our homes like glue,  just in case we get the dreaded lurgy, it gets to the stage where you have to bite the bullet, get in the car and hit the road. Not on a holiday or heading off to somewhere windswept and exotic; just a trip to the other side of town. What, less than a year ago, was a normal part of day to day living has become a chore and an unwelcome one at that. 

Going to public places is now a voyage into a foreign land. A place where it is no longer fun or familiar.  It has become a chore and, like ironing is to me, an an unpleasant one at that. 

For the last 7 months, I have seen much of the western world descend into chaos because of the " Virus "

This was just the excuse  for the closing down of freedom and taking over our lives under the illusion that it is for our own good. It conditioned us to get used to being told what to do, when to do it and be grateful for our Governments caring and responsible destruction of our lives. 

We have seen places like Victoria and Queensland supposedly applaud the prison guards for locking us up and taking our freedom, livelihoods and futures. APPARENTLY, we voted in unison for more Nanny State and reduction in our individual right to dictate the terms of living our own lives.