Day 82 - Tuesday 9th July

I wake to the news that the government has reversed its decision to get all children back to school before the summer, after finding that many schools could not operate the required adaptations. More positively, the UK has now passed two months without burning any coal to generate electricity. I'm first up - hubby emerges around 9 but there's still no sign of our son who went to bed at 10pm last night. He gets up before lunch, though. I'm busy all morning tidying up my email lists for the climate change partnership, I'm determined to finish it today.

I have a long Skype meeting in the afternoon, and then have to do some quick amendments to the artwork I did for the climate change partnership's ads for the public consultation. Canva automatically charges me for premium as I'd already had a free trial - I'll have to reclaim that but can I invoice for it when I'm on furlough? It's voluntary work I'm doing, not for my business, but I don't want to fall foul of HMRC. I make the finishing touches to the email list, but I won't send the emails now until tomorrow. I'm still trying to contact me friend who is ill; she hasn't replied to any of my messages.

In the afternoon briefing Alok Sharma confirms that non-essential shops can open from Monday 15th as long as they take appropriate precautions. I certainly don't plan to visit any. It's billed as the beginning of the economic fight back, but I don't feel we've beaten the virus yet. Hubby has been busy refreshing our laundry room, it's looking much better but its contents are now mostly in the dining room which will make dinner interesting. I've been trying to arrange a plumber to come and look at our leaky boiler - he was going to come tomorrow morning but after my son rose later today I'm afraid he won't be awake in time and the boiler is through his bedroom. We reschedule for Friday.

Over dinner - spag bol and mushroom risotto - we discuss the toppling of  Colston's statue and the morality of prosecuting the perpetrators, then get on to the subject of reparations more generally. My son and I agree that given how many slaves were thrown overboard to enable insurance claims, there is no more fitting resting place than in the harbour for Colston. Even his own descendant has posted on Twitter to commend it. Hubby seems conflicted about the entitlement of mixed race people to reparations when they could be descended from both the perpetrators and the victims of slavery, but so many generations down the line I really can't see how that's relevant.

After dinner I find homes for the things we've pushed to to end of the dining room to make room for our meal. I finally hear from my friend - she has been in touch with her surgery and they have changed her antibiotics so something broader spectrum. She messages me a little later to say another friend is doing her washing up - I'm delighted that she's being taken care of. I really hope she begins to feel better now, after three months she really has had enough and so has her immune system. My son returns to his exam work and hubby and I watch A House Through Time - we're past the slave traders now, hearing the stories of the residents of 10 Guinea Street, Bristol from around a century ago when infant mortality was the curse of the poor.

Tonight I am grateful for modern medicine.


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