Lockdown

 

So, we are in lockdown in the UK, which is a good thing if it means that the number of people with the virus goes down. I don't know about you, but I feel like I am living in a dystopian world, this killer virus sounds like something that Ethan Hunt has to find the cure for in Mission Impossible. Every evening when I watch the news and hear about how many people have died, words cannot describe how this feels, but I know you will understand because this is happening around the world, and we really are all in this together.

 

I think we should have been in lockdown far sooner than what we are. I think we could not have a worse government to get us through this pandemic - the Tories only ever look after themselves; you just need to look back to previous Tory governments to see that I am right. I cannot help but think if we had Jeremy Corbyn at the helm, things might have played out differently, but we don't, because we live in a democracy, and for some unfathomable reason, we chose Boris. But that is another story.

 

During this lockdown, I plan to read as many books as I can, for I certainly need to escape from reality, even if it is for a short time.

 

I hope we all come through this terrible time, and more importantly, learn something from it.

 

Be safe, my friends.

Poetry Corner - If by Rudyard Kipling

 

If

By Rudyard Kipling

 

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!