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Corona quarantine diary
Thread poster: Mervyn Henderson

RobinB  Identity Verified
United States
Local time: 09:43
German to English
WWDFD Mar 23

Over here in the US, a lot of us ask ourselves WWDFD - What Would Dr. Fauci Do? That's Dr. Stanley Fauci, who's one of the world's leading immunologists, the Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and a member of the White House Coronavirus Task Force. He's one of only a couple of intelligent adults on the podium in the White House Briefing Room, and acts as a public fact-checker correcting the President. He wasn't present for today's press briefing, and he's not e... See more
Over here in the US, a lot of us ask ourselves WWDFD - What Would Dr. Fauci Do? That's Dr. Stanley Fauci, who's one of the world's leading immunologists, the Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and a member of the White House Coronavirus Task Force. He's one of only a couple of intelligent adults on the podium in the White House Briefing Room, and acts as a public fact-checker correcting the President. He wasn't present for today's press briefing, and he's not exactly POTUS's favourite person. I've heard him correct POTUS, calling him "Don", for example. But many Americans listen carefully to every word he says.

For the UK, I'm tempted to suggest the government is guided by WWDAD - What Would Dad's Army Do? They don't seem to have understood that "muddling through" is a prime example of ironic British self-criticism, not a proven policy guideline. It all reminds me rather of Robin Williams's categorisation of British cops in the recording of his first live stage show: "Stop! Or I'll say 'Stop' again!"
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Kevin Fulton
Liviu-Lee Roth
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Spain
Local time: 16:43
Member
Spanish to English
+ ...
TOPIC STARTER
Tuesday 24 March Mar 24

Chris S asked a while ago whether there were snitches and police out and about in rural areas …

Thursday 19 March, San José, was a holiday in a few regions, including this one, Euskadi. Many Basques have a seaside home down the road in villages such as Laredo and Noja, in the region of Cantabria, and they saw a long weekend coming up. In Cantabria they’d be faced with the same lockdown, of course, but most of those pieds à terre have an upstairs and a downstairs, a terrace to
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Chris S asked a while ago whether there were snitches and police out and about in rural areas …

Thursday 19 March, San José, was a holiday in a few regions, including this one, Euskadi. Many Basques have a seaside home down the road in villages such as Laredo and Noja, in the region of Cantabria, and they saw a long weekend coming up. In Cantabria they’d be faced with the same lockdown, of course, but most of those pieds à terre have an upstairs and a downstairs, a terrace to relax on and a small garden, with a lot more room than in the city. Confinement can be so, well, confining. So a goodly number of them hopped into their cars with the kids, the dog, the cat, the goldfish and whatnot, and off to Cantabria for a few days.

Well, not quite in the end. The police were streets ahead of them, waiting just outside the city limits. Anybody who didn't have a reasonable explanation for being out and about in a car full of people was turned right round, and back to Bilbao. San José is also Father's Day. A lot of fuming daddies driving back home on Thursday.

Down to get the paper. Nobody about. The administrators have also put the notice of our local infection on the lift. You never hear the lift going up and down now just outside here, because no one uses it any more. Bloody hell. No news around that isn't coronavirus. The 9 pm news has been transformed into the Coronavirus Update. Even the 3K I have left now to translate is the call to a general meeting, dotted with warnings not to attend in person even if the confinement restrictions have been lifted before the actual date of the meeting.
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Heinrich Pesch  Identity Verified
Finland
Local time: 17:43
Member (2003)
Finnish to German
+ ...
Dr. Fauci should stay at home, he is 79 Mar 24

RobinB wrote:

Over here in the US, a lot of us ask ourselves WWDFD - What Would Dr. Fauci Do? That's Dr. Stanley Fauci, who's one of the world's leading immunologists, the Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and a member of the White House Coronavirus Task Force. He's one of only a couple of intelligent adults on the podium in the White House Briefing Room, and acts as a public fact-checker correcting the President. He wasn't present for today's press briefing, and he's not exactly POTUS's favourite person. I've heard him correct POTUS, calling him "Don", for example. But many Americans listen carefully to every word he says.

For the UK, I'm tempted to suggest the government is guided by WWDAD - What Would Dad's Army Do? They don't seem to have understood that "muddling through" is a prime example of ironic British self-criticism, not a proven policy guideline. It all reminds me rather of Robin Williams's categorisation of British cops in the recording of his first live stage show: "Stop! Or I'll say 'Stop' again!"


This time I tend to agree with Mr. Trump. Is is not a good idea to ruin the economy to save people from covid-19-virus. Here in the North countries like Denmark, Norway and Finland closed schools and restrict everything, Sweden closed only gymnasia but does not restrict people's movement.
I would thing let us old ones (I'm 71) stay home but let the young ones do as usual and acquire immunity as soon as possible. Closing will need to be lifted once, and then the second wave will spread anyway.


Chris S
Brian Joyce
Katrin Taouinet
Laura Kingdon
Christine Andersen
 

Jan Truper  Identity Verified
Germany
Local time: 16:43
English to German
+ ...
... Mar 24

Heinrich Pesch wrote:
Is is not a good idea to ruin the economy to save people from covid-19-virus.


Make sure you make your sentiments known to the health worker who has to decide whether to put you or the other guy on the ventilator.


Robert Rietvelt
Zibow Retailleau
Kevin Fulton
Michal Fabian
Michele Fauble
Mervyn Henderson
Sandra & Kenneth Grossman
 

Brian Joyce  Identity Verified
United Kingdom
French to English
Kudos to you Heinrich Pesch Mar 24

"I would thing let us old ones (I'm 71) stay home but let the young ones do as usual and acquire immunity as soon as possible. Closing will need to be lifted once, and then the second wave will spread anyway".

Well said Heinrich, you are a man who can see reality beyond his own situation, some countries in Africa don't have any ventilators at all.


 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Spain
Local time: 16:43
Member
Spanish to English
+ ...
TOPIC STARTER
Still need ... Mar 24

... some cheering up, I do, so here's another one from the archives. It's a little naughty. Make sure there aren't any children looking over your shoulder. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin:


....

Click.

Just a soft click, that’s all it was. A faint, barely audible click. The click of my hotel room door being stealthily opened. I sprang noiselessly from the bed, and was there in only four strides. A shard of light from the corridor illum
... See more
... some cheering up, I do, so here's another one from the archives. It's a little naughty. Make sure there aren't any children looking over your shoulder. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin:


....

Click.

Just a soft click, that’s all it was. A faint, barely audible click. The click of my hotel room door being stealthily opened. I sprang noiselessly from the bed, and was there in only four strides. A shard of light from the corridor illuminated a dark figure in a long coat entering the room. I pounced like a tiger from the side, closed my arms around his neck and was just about to snap it in one deadly jerk to the right when I smelt a perfume I recognised.

“Moneypenny!” I gasped. “What the hell are you doing here? You should know better than that. You could be lying dead on this floor right now. I’m a tightly coiled spring, for God’s sake. A highly trained professional assassin. A one-man army on Her Majesty’s Secret Service. A merciless killing machine capable of executing villains with my bare hands, not to mention a hundred other ways. A …”

The MI5 secretary shrugged her greatcoat back, letting it fall to the floor. My jaw dropped at the sight of Moneypenny in a plunging red leather top, her navel exposed with a ring through her belly button, a matching leather mini-skirt, black fishnet stockings and suspenders and stiletto heels, and – was that a cat-o’-nine-tails she was carrying in her belt? Her tightly encased breasts rose and fell, straining against the material as she looked me up and down, smiling naughtily.

“Yes, James”, she whispered, gliding towards me, hands on hips, “I know. Licensed to kill.” A hand stretched lazily out and long scarlet nails scraped gently down my bare chest. “But what about … licensed to thrill?”

Moneypenny looked down, but her hand stayed there, at arm’s length. “My, my”, she said, “Union Jack boxer shorts. How patriotic, James.” She moved closer and looked down again: “Oh … and so difficult to tell whether the flag’s running up the pole or the pole’s running up the flag …”

I stepped back, breathing heavily. Sweating, too. The long mascara-laden eyelashes fluttered and her tongue slipped out and rolled suggestively around her upper lip as she continued to stare down, taking out that whip and gently swinging the little knotted thongs closer and closer until they finally grazed my frontage.

“Oh yes, look at that, there he goes,” she cooed, “standing to attention in anticipation of official duty. Rising to the manly challenges ahead. Ready to dive in at the sharp end of a no-holds-barred rough and tumble.”

“You’re out of line, Moneypenny”, I told her, but I rushed to put a towel around myself just the same. “You know very well I’m spoken for. The little matter of Goodbody, remember?”

That took the wind out of her sails. Moneypenny’s shoulders slumped as she withdrew the whip, sat on a chair near the bed, and lit a cigarette.

“Oh yes”, said Moneypenny disdainfully. “The competition. Jane Goodbody. Agent 008. It’s Goodbody I’ve come to talk to you about, actually. The little tramp won’t be in the field with you on the mission after all.”

Well, I was fond of Moneypenny, but I refused to have the name of the woman I loved bandied around like that.

“Jane Goodbody’s not a tramp, Moneypenny”, I growled. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? What IS all this femme fatale business with me? You can get a man for yourself. You’re a smart, fine-looking woman. You can have your pick of the bunch, surely.”

Moneypenny stretched out those long legs luxuriously, shook back her dark hair and nodded dreamily, as if remembering:

“Yes, there was a man once, you know ... a man I loved. A man I worshipped, James. I – adored – him. It was a love so intense it caused me the greatest pain and sorrow. And he said he loved me too.”

My heart melted a little, and the annoyance faded. What could I do but give her a sympathetic smile?

“And then”, said Moneypenny, gazing into the middle distance, reliving it all again, “then the day finally came when he showed me just how much he loved me, James. He simply whipped it out of that fur-trimmed pink velvet box with no warning, and stood there in front of me, proudly showing it off to me all hard and glistening in his strong hand. And I simply gushed over it.”

“Moneypenny”, I demurred. “Perhaps I’m not the right person to tell this to ...”

But she paid me no heed.

“I was all a-quiver”, she enthused, staring straight ahead as if in a trance, “at the sight of something so tantalisingly majestic. I was transfixed. I just couldn’t take my eyes off the thing, James.”

“Er, Moneypenny, really, I …”, I stammered, pulling uncomfortably at my towel. But then her eyes glazed over disturbingly and rolled up in their sockets so I could see only the whites of them:

“How I trembled with excitement as he knelt down in front of me with the wickedest smile, and brought it up nearer so I could contemplate the whole gorgeous item at close quarters”, she whispered. “And then he made me his offering of love.”

“Bloody hell, Moneypenny”, I gasped, staring at her in the leathers.

“He had said he was going to spend and spend and spend, and I knew he was loaded”, Moneypenny practically babbled, “but I had no idea he had such wads of the stuff. And then suddenly there it was on my chest, a wonderful pearl necklace.”

She whimpered a little in recollection.

“Oh”, I said, my lower body suddenly relaxing, “a necklace. I see. You know, Moneypenny, for a minute …”

“Yes”, she went on, “the most splendid necklace I have ever been given. I had never imagined one man alone could splash out so much on me. Oh, all those white pearls! I was literally dripping with them. I looked down at the gleaming drops and little ropes and strings of it around my neck and hanging down over my cleavage, and – oh James, I know it was utter lunacy, but I couldn’t keep my hands off it, rubbing it gratefully all over my chest, scooping it up and letting it trickle slowly through my fingers, and even slavering and slobbering and licking at it feverishly like a dog with my hot little tongue in the ecstasy of the moment because, well, you know, it just came over me.”

“Good God Moneypenny, he must have been madly in love with you too”, I agreed, smoothing down my towel. “So what happened?”

Moneypenny smiled wistfully, blew out some smoke, and sighed.

“Then, James, he wiped himself off on my lovely brand new duvet, lit a Peter Stuyvesant, stuck it in my mouth, and said he was going out to get us some lattes and croissants. Never saw the bastard again from that day to this.”

She stared glumly down at the floor, elbows propped up on her legs, poking at an ankle chain with the whip.

I exhaled slowly. Moneypenny had always been a bit of a flirt around me, but what a dark, dark horse she really was, I thought. Better to change the subject:

“Anyway, what’s all this about 008 not being able to go with me, Moneypenny?”

The woman jerked a little as she returned to the present, and mechanically returned the whip to her belt.

“Well, she says she can’t walk, James”, she sniffed.

I smiled to myself. It was me doing the remembering now. Lord, I was surprised Goodbody could even talk, never mind walk, considering the almighty right royal rogering I had given the girl the day before. Lord, the prime British pork Agent 008 had packed away repeatedly into the early hours.

“Yes, after our meeting at HQ today she tripped and fell down the stairs,” Moneypenny went on. “Twisted her ankle very badly.”

“Oh … oh, tripped, did she? I see …” I could almost feel myself deflating.

Moneypenny looked warily around the room, lowering her voice:

“And, James”, she went on, “M wants you to know you have to be extra careful on this mission – that’s another reason why I had to come here in person with no warning. We’ve got a mole in MI5 somewhere, and we know the target’s on to us. We all have to be especially vigilant. I’ll be keeping my eyes open too.”

Those dark eyelashes were suddenly back in smoulder mode:

“But then, my eyes are always open where you’re concerned, 007. And my arms too. Not to mention my legs”, she murmured, looking up hopefully.

“Er, perhaps we should just concentrate on MI5 business, Moneypenny. So, is there anything else I should know after my meeting with M yesterday? …”

M had briefed me at his club the day before. He was waiting for me at the bar:

“How about a drink, Bond?” he greeted me.

“Definitely”, I said. “Just the thing to bring down the usual pre-mission tension. Get me a dry Martini, would you”, I said to the barman. “Shaken, not stirred.”

The man looked up from the glass he was polishing.

“Sorry sir, no dry Martinis. Only wet ones.”

I merely stared through him, but I could feel the index and middle finger of my right hand beginning to drum on the bar. Never a good sign. He grinned stupidly, and turned to the bottles behind him.

“Just my little joke, sir. One dry Martini coming up. Shaken and unstirred.”

I called after him:

“Shaken, not stirred. That’s the term.”

“Yes sir, I heard you. Shaken, but unstirred.”

“No, I said “shaken, not stirred”. Not unstirred.”

“Not unstirred, sir? That means stirred.”

The chap was pushing his luck. I was starting to get those flashbacks of burly giants I’d dispatched over the years with neat holes between the eyes, crushed under blocks of concrete, or suffocated in huge vats of grain. Never a good sign either. I tried to keep my voice steady:

“It’s simple”, I said, “I want it shaken, not stirred, not shaken and unstirred.”

He folded his arms.

“So now you don’t want it shaken, either? Do make up your mind, sir. Do you want this Martini shaken or unshaken, and stirred or unstirred?”

The stupid grin again. The coiled spring was reaching trip point. I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt the welcome cold steel of the Walther PPK. I beckoned him over, my lip curling. He plodded up. I grabbed him by the lapels.

M leaned across and put a restraining hand on my arm.

“Bond”, he whispered. “Not here, if you please.” He gestured around the room. “My club, you know. Not on, James. I mean, that’s the Chancellor of the Exchequer over there with his fancy woman, for heaven’s sake. And do you see the Lord Chief Justice with that spotty lad in the corner?” He turned to the waiter. “Dry Martini. Shaken. Not stirred. Two minutes ago”, he rapped.

We took our drinks to a secluded table.

“Who’s the mark this time, M?” I asked.

M looked to left and right, and pushed the dossier across to me.

“Details are sketchy about this Scarawanga man. We don’t know much about his life, only bits and pieces from the wire here and there, you know how it is. Korea, Vietnam, Berlin, KGB, Stasi, a bit of double-agenting now and again. A gun fetishist, too. A collector. Lugers, Mausers, Glocks, Berettas, Kalashnikovs, even the Walther PPK, you name it, he’s got it. But he wanted to make his own guns, too. Which caused him a bit of a personal contretemps a few years ago, though. He made off with a load of gold bars after a daring robbery at Fort Knox. Melted them all down, and the idea was to use precision-moulding equipment to make himself a set of solid gold assault rifles.”

M leaned forward. “The Man with the Golden Gun”, he finished, pausing to let it sink in.

The boss sat back in his chair. I took a sip of the Martini and whistled. “They’re a strange bunch, M, these master criminals”.

“Well, Bond, that wasn’t the end of it. His golden gun thing didn’t quite work out the way he’d planned”, M went on. “Our information is that he had turned round and bent down to adjust the parameters on the console because the gold wasn’t hardening fast enough, but the numeric control wasn’t as finely tuned as he’d thought, and in an admittedly unlikely scenario, which we’re stuck with nonetheless, the moulding equipment blew up, ripped through his clothes and spattered hot liquid gold out at him. Some of it penetrated his skin, and the rest was left on the outside. He could hardly go to Accident & Emergency, obviously, meanwhile the gold hardened in, and when he did get a doctor he trusted to take a look, it turned out it would be far too dangerous to remove it. Since most of the force of it was directed at his rear end, it was practically covered with a kind of grotesque gold mosaic.”

“So, not so much the “Man with the Golden Gun”, I said, “as the “Man with the Golden Bum.”

“Right, James. The damn fool. Goldeneye!”, chortled M.

“Well, sir, I’ve heard of a golden shower, but that’s ridiculous!”

Yes, we both had a good chuckle at the evil fiend’s misfortunes. Well, one of us was tasked with planning the cold-blooded elimination of cold-blooded megalomaniac despots and cold-blooded master criminals worldwide, and one of us had to cold-bloodedly carry out those cold-blooded plans to keep the world safe from cold-blooded cold-bloodedness, and the responsibility and the pressure of all that cold blood can be overpowering, you know. You need to laugh now and again …

Moneypenny nodded sadly. “All right, James. You win. Let’s go over the mission update.”

Just then there was a knock at the door. Again I sprang into action:

“Quick, Moneypenny, get behind the curtains”, I ordered. “Could be a hit. I’ll deal with this.”

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Lingua 5B  Identity Verified
Bosnia and Herzegovina
Local time: 16:43
Member (2009)
German to Serbian
+ ...
Diary March 24 Mar 24

- Woke up to see 3 meters of white powder in front of my house. After four months of winter without a trace a snow, I see this two days after March 21st, the official spring arrival day. Took out my snow boots and warm merino clothing and went out for a walk while avoiding people. Saw a long line in front of local convenience store with people freezing outdoor in line under heavy snow waiting to buy groceries (only two people at a time allowed inside the store).
- Got invitation from a f
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- Woke up to see 3 meters of white powder in front of my house. After four months of winter without a trace a snow, I see this two days after March 21st, the official spring arrival day. Took out my snow boots and warm merino clothing and went out for a walk while avoiding people. Saw a long line in front of local convenience store with people freezing outdoor in line under heavy snow waiting to buy groceries (only two people at a time allowed inside the store).
- Got invitation from a friend for Zoom meeting which will be her online birthday party with about 20 people. Not sure what to think of it really.
- In the first week of quarantine I kind of started empathizing with prisoners and paranoid mental health patients, but don’t feel it anymore. It seems the frog has already been boiled?


[Edited at 2020-03-24 15:20 GMT]
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Brian Joyce  Identity Verified
United Kingdom
French to English
Golden shower Mar 24

Nice story Mervyn. Can't wait for the next episode.

 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Spain
Local time: 16:43
Member
Spanish to English
+ ...
TOPIC STARTER
Supermarket Mar 24

Down to the supermarket, where, even if you are wearing gloves like I was, at the entrance they insist on (a) popping another pair of their own thin common-or-garden plastic gloves over them or (b) coating your gloves with gel. I went for (a), because (b) seemed vaguely pornographic, gelling up the latex.

Supermarkets are dodgy places, they say. And the logistics are frightening. When you get home you have to throw away any plastic bags you may have acquired, plus the packaging, plu
... See more
Down to the supermarket, where, even if you are wearing gloves like I was, at the entrance they insist on (a) popping another pair of their own thin common-or-garden plastic gloves over them or (b) coating your gloves with gel. I went for (a), because (b) seemed vaguely pornographic, gelling up the latex.

Supermarkets are dodgy places, they say. And the logistics are frightening. When you get home you have to throw away any plastic bags you may have acquired, plus the packaging, plus just about anything at all, AND wash any of the products AND wash yourself too. But I think this is overdoing things. Plus, what do I do with the euro notes and coins I'm given? I handle them with gloves, but do I have to wash the notes or what? On one of my trips yonks ago to N Ireland, I saw that Bank of Ireland or Ulster Bank or someone had issued a plastic fiver you could actually wash. Totally washable and, er, submergeable. It wasn't in circulation long. Bit of an Irish joke.

They say there are supply problems, but I don't see much of that yet. I do notice that people have been stocking up on bleach, with the current craze of cleaning anything and everything thoroughly. And, since people aren't getting out to the bars, not so much of a selection of beers left. They didn't have any of my favourite Alhambra 1925, only the "red" beer variety. Conversely, there hadn't been much of a run on another erstwhile popular brand ... Corona.
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Andrew Morris
 

Lingua 5B  Identity Verified
Bosnia and Herzegovina
Local time: 16:43
Member (2009)
German to Serbian
+ ...
LOL yes, all sorts of funny situations encountered. Mar 24

I was buying some supplies in pharmacy the other day and they have a 2 meter distance rule between buyers but also between the buyer and the pharmacist/seller. I had to hand her my credit card at the end of the purchase, was thinking about stepping 2 meters away and throwing it toward her like a frisbee.

MollyRose
Mervyn Henderson
 

Mervyn Henderson  Identity Verified
Spain
Local time: 16:43
Member
Spanish to English
+ ...
TOPIC STARTER
@Lingua 5B Mar 24

- Woke up to see 3 meters of white powder in front of my house.

I must tell you this, Lingua 5B. I read your first sentence on the mobile phone, in bad light, and mistakenly read it as "... in front of my nose", and thought, Wow, that's one huge snort!


Lingua 5B
Liviu-Lee Roth
Emily Scott
 

Lingua 5B  Identity Verified
Bosnia and Herzegovina
Local time: 16:43
Member (2009)
German to Serbian
+ ...
LOL Mar 24

Mervyn Henderson wrote:

- Woke up to see 3 meters of white powder in front of my house.

I must tell you this, Lingua 5B. I read your first sentence on the mobile phone, in bad light, and mistakenly read it as "... in front of my nose", and thought, Wow, that's one huge snort!


You have vivid imagination which is good for all the stories you create here.


 

Brian Joyce  Identity Verified
United Kingdom
French to English
The Arts Council to the rescue (not) Mar 24

Coronavirus: Arts Council England launches £160m emergency package.

The arts being made up of 95% freelancers, is to receive the above generous boon. There are only a couple of problems;
1. You will only receive money if you are already in receipt of Arts council funding.
2. It will take up to six weeks.

SIX WEEKS.!!!
... See more
Coronavirus: Arts Council England launches £160m emergency package.

The arts being made up of 95% freelancers, is to receive the above generous boon. There are only a couple of problems;
1. You will only receive money if you are already in receipt of Arts council funding.
2. It will take up to six weeks.

SIX WEEKS.!!! No wonder arts industry workers including classical musicians who have never been far from the money, are forced to go cap in hand to the Universal Credit system. That was until the universal credit identity portal just crashed, from over use.
Like I said, if the virus doesn't kill us, the starvation surely will.
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Barbara Adamic Dekovic  Identity Verified
Croatia
Local time: 16:43
French to Croatian
+ ...
It can be worse... Mar 24

Dear colleagues, it can always get worse. Imagine… quarantine accompanied by earthquakes- three days in a row. Greetings from Zagreb, Croatia.

Mervyn Henderson
Chris S
Oksana Weiss
 

Chris S  Identity Verified
United Kingdom
Swedish to English
+ ...
Plastic Mar 24

All bank notes in the UK are plastic and washable now, Mervyn. No joke.

Don’t you do contactless and ApplePay type stuff in Spain? It’s definitely the way to go right now and was already getting fairly standard over here. I rarely carry cash any more, and I’m out in the boondocks where life is largely unchanged from the 1970s. We even say hello to strangers.

Well, maybe not now. I did my regulation one form of daily exercise today and most people I passed pretty
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All bank notes in the UK are plastic and washable now, Mervyn. No joke.

Don’t you do contactless and ApplePay type stuff in Spain? It’s definitely the way to go right now and was already getting fairly standard over here. I rarely carry cash any more, and I’m out in the boondocks where life is largely unchanged from the 1970s. We even say hello to strangers.

Well, maybe not now. I did my regulation one form of daily exercise today and most people I passed pretty much ran away. Even more so than usual. Either my sexual allure is finally waning or people are beginning to get scared.

Southwest Wales is only at 27 known cases across a population of 400,000, though, so we’re doing pretty well so far.
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