It’s been a while... ...since I’ve prepared an article for the Enthusiast. In 2020 I missed the gathering of the Saab Widows. Until this year I didn’t realize how not seeing everyone can put such an impact on moral and that favourite word this year, isolation. I am to assume many of you stood in the garage looking at your vehicle and wondered how can I make an excuse to get out of here? Answers in the next magazine? Meanwhile I will tell you how I know others escaped, or didn’t. Not forgetting those that were put straight into furlough. I had to look that word up, I though it was a length of a field to put potatoes in, apparently not. My brother, one of the potatoes, was already on a short week, because of Brexit from January. Slap! Promised not to get political. There were many who received a letter telling them because of their health condition they were to stay at home and rely on others. My father was one, at 82, was allowed to escape on a daily basis and being a party pooper I didn’t appreciate the Thursday clapping and fortunately our neighbours didn’t take up the challenge. They were too busy and tired, a Fireman, a Veterinarian Nurse, Lorry driver, Cleaner and me. My very part-time job went out the window, getting to work two hours before the pharmacy opened, staying after it shut, 10
skipping lunch (never did get tea breaks, a mug put in front of me to go cold, nice). I was shattered. So another way to escape? Volunteer. There were lots of options and we needed them so badly at work, to assist our delivery driver who normally had a regular routine of twenty to thirty housebound patients. The strict isolation rule prevented many of our regulars from collecting their own prescription and Christchurch has one of the highest densities of over 65s (actually 90 is about average) in the country. We needed help. Firstly, to get to work I have two modes of transport, weather and traffic dependant. Those who remember my previous ramblings was about the success in upgrading my motorbike license and that is the mode of transport that makes me happy about going to work and equally quickly returning home. The other is trapped in a queue to get out of Bournemouth for what I have been reliably informed by a lady from Peckham, is worse than London rush hour (my boss). This was no longer a problem with no traffic it took less than 20 minutes to arrive at the hospital grounds, instead of over an hour. Our ‘biker’ friends were climbing the wall, not going round it, as seen at the fairgrounds. They all volunteered! Great,
