Locked In.

Four years ago I penned a post on here to mark the victory of Mr Trump in the US election. Not because I particularly like him. Nor do I like to make political comment on here. No more to plead for unity in that great country. He had a lot of healing to do in such a divided place.

Now on a gloomy November Sunday afternoon we have another president elect. The years of chaos, disruption, arrogance and world shaking egotistical politics will have finally come to an end. USA, you have a lot of healing to do but please remember democracy is not the right of every man and woman in this fractious world. We are privileged enough to have that right. And Mr Trump says he has been cheated. Maybe he knows something I don't but that is the result and much of the world has breathed a huge sigh of relief. Mr Biden has a huge task but good luck to him and to the American people.

Back here in my small part of the world not all is going to plan. True I had a week without incident or conflict. However as I was coming home from the pub on Wednesday just as the country was shutting down again my covid app bleeped and ordered me to stay indoors until next Friday.

Here on day four of my house arrest I'm really feeling it. My outlook is as bleak and grey as the sky outside. The instructions on the app tell me I'm only allowed to exercise in my garden. Sadly I have no garden and the balcony is small. So nowhere to go.

As ever though my friends have been extraordinary. People calling, messaging, texting and zooming. And they have shopped for me. There should be a delivery of Rioja this afternoon.

The last time I was locked up like this was in an old asylum in the summer of 1991 after my breakdown. Shit though my world looks today it is nowhere near as terrifying at that desolate summer all those years ago.

I have my opera, I have my books, I have my kitchen. And I have wine. Day by day I will crawl towards salvation on Friday. It seems a long way off today. But I will get there intact.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.