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On the Follys of the First Lord

12 October, in the year of our Lord 2020

In the morning I went out, and heard the general spleen of the people in the streets as to the measures the First Lord of the Treasurie has newly taken for the plague: that his gouvernment has not had a steady hand on it, nor now has; and some say that it should be allowed to reap its reward in lives, whereupon it will move away for there will be no substrate for it; others that our hope lies only in locking ourselves away from it, which I think is an instrument as blunt as a bat, and we cannot beat the plague forever with it. I would aspire to seeing how it goes above where it goes, for the first will lead to the second, and if it goes from tavern to tavern, address the Opening of taverns, and if from house to house, desist, and if by coach from one part of the Countrie to another, stop the movement of coaches along the roads and lanes, for where people go it will take a coach with them. It may be, in the end, that it is like water that flows down a hill, and it will find its way whatever the Obstacle, but I think all these are a commonsense. At the very least if people are to have a test they must know the outcome of it within a day, and all this would be known, and done, in an Arrangement that worked, but it is plain that it does not. In my administrating the Navy, and in all my days in that office, I did not once mis-place the ledgers of sixteen thousand sailors. I am of the mind that one more misfortune for our second rate Dido will see her lament afresh, for she will be abandoned by her new Aeneas who, while this mishap mishappened, was meanwhile a-blather about powering the land with Wind, and how this will best all the oil in Araby; yet though he could turn the sails of all the mills in England with the wind from his own lungs, the First Lord cannot use the same breath to explain his own Covey law.
  After dinner, delivered by Drivers Hopelesslie Lost of two shirts with short sleeves, the same as the one I have in aubergyne, which I did order on the Line two weeks since, and am mightily contented with the fitte of them, for though there is a dearness to them, the prize of a shirt that sits well upon the shoulders is worth the cost; and these sit well in all their proportions for they are made in Denmark using an Algorithm, which is a kind of Danish loom. By evening, news of the latest Great Insighte from the First Lord, which is not to breake the Circuit of the plague, still less to take a shot at the Moon (which inanities are his latest forrays into fanciful description), but to put in place Levels of restriction to limit the plague, of which there are to be three. I knew it would end in tiers. And so to bed.

By andywmacfarlane

I am a retired medic who likes messing around with a bit of writing, and friends seemed to like my social media postings of "Samuel Pepys: The Covid Diaries". So I'm having a go at blogging them.

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