Bill Taylor has led the way in Salut!'s little experiment with single-subject blogging. This is his 15th instalment. There's no need for shame in any of this; the news bulletins are packed solid with Covid-19, too, so it takes a lone-wolf terrorist committing a double-fatal stabbing in France to interrupt (briefly) the wall-to-wall virus coverage on the main France 2 evening bulletin we've managed to locate via YouTube.
See all Bill's notes from Toronto, and the jottings of others from Madrid, Paris, London, the North East of England and beyond at this link ...
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It’s early days yet but a leading contender for the 2020 irony award has to be Air Canada.
An e-mail arrives telling me that my frequent-flyer status “grants you access to an exciting range of exclusive privileges, including your choice of Select Privileges”.
If I don’t choose them by October, “a default selection will be made on your behalf”.
My first choice would be… flights. Safe and healthy ones, to places that let the plane land and passengers get off without sealing them up somewhere. But I can’t find that on the list.
Oh, go ahead, Air Canada, surprise me.
You can take fear of running out of things too far. Counting the toilet rolls is one thing, trying to count the salt is another. It goes all over the floor. And you’re just going to have to take the pepper on trust. It’ll only make you sneeze and then the neighbours will come calling with pitchforks and torches. And masks.
I interrupt the cats having a disgraceful fight on the dining room table, where they are, of course, not ever supposed to be. It can’t be cabin fever because even when we’re not under lockdown they don’t go outside. I separate them and chivvy one upstairs and the other into the basement.
Five minutes later, I find them curled up together fast asleep on the dining room table. I’m glad they know who’s boss.
For all the many and varied complaints to be made about Facebook, I wouldn’t be without it right now. It’s not only a link to distant friends but nearby friends, too. Virtual companionship is far better than none at all.
One thing I could do without, though, is FB’s constant suggestions of people “you may know” and might wish to have as chums.
Some of them I do know, most of them I don’t, and none of them (I mean no particular offence by this) am I anxious to have swell my roster.
Yet as quickly as I dismiss them, they pop up again, usually the same ones and often with that annoying “please like me” smile some people switch on whenever a camera is pointed in their direction. This does not endear them to me.
And I wish I could have words with whoever decides who gets which ads on Facebook. Yes, I’m aware that it’s an algorithm. Except I don’t really know what that is. I think it might actually be Al Gorithm, and he’s not very good at his job.
One friend, who describes himself as “pre-digital”, was complaining about being bombarded by come-ons for “high-tech components… integrated circuits, hyperwidgets and nanothingies… I don’t understand this stuff, I’m not interested in this stuff”.
I’d almost trade places with him. I’ve just done my second online yoga class. I’d barely finished the first when I started receiving offers of cut-price sweatpants – women’s, not men’s – and sports bras.
If I could find a way of getting in touch with Mr Gorithm, I’d tell him I would much rather have nanothingies than underthingies. Especially ones that wouldn’t fit me.
I suppose like everyone he’s working from home. Change into something nicer than your cut-price sweatpants, Al. It’ll perk you up and we’ll all benefit.
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