I shall be attending a small Remembrance Event this morning, as I have always done whenever it has been possible, to remember those who died to save us from an obvious tyranny.
Men and women who were sh*t-scared, doing the best that they could to try to do what was right as far as their limited view could tell them, in a mass of confusion, politics and manipulation by shadowy, inaccessible individuals and even less accessible groups that craved and valued nought else but power and dominion, and who lived in monied social circles that rarely, if ever (actually in truth never) intersected those of the foot-soldiers.
I don’t know how I would have behaved in “classic” war-time circumstances, I don’t think that I’m terribly brave and I doubt that I would have acquitted myself well.
As far as I can discern? divine? decide? from ‘The Health Protection (Coronavirus, Restrictions) (England) (No. 4) Regulations 2020‘ I qualify to be outdoors and attending an event specifically identified and classified in the legislation as a “Remembrance Event” (don’t even think about other types of event, dealt with separately by other “wet ink” legislation) because I may go
…as a “discouraged” individual spectator Part 2, Para 6(2)(f), Exception 14 para 18(a)(i) and 18(b)(v)
and – for the purposes of efficient limitation of my exercise of my Reasonable Excuse Part 2, 5(1)
since it is not clear, my living on a boat, whether Part 2, 5(2)(a) or Part 2, 5(2)(b) or even Part 2, 5(3) applies to me (a boat is not, in English law, classed as a “Dwelling” but more as an owned object, similar to a car or a small but perfectly-formed parrot)
and for the puposes of the Hutson-favoured tactic of Der Belt und Braces
I shall be combining spectating alone* at the event with
movement for the purposes of Part 2, 6(2)(a) (purchase of a tub of stern-gland grease, essential to the operation of my boat and required with some urgency – since I have depleted stocks of same and like to always keep two or three tubs in hand)
and Part 2, 6(2)(c)(i) (outdoor exercise alone)
and Part 2, 6(2)(d)(i) (to visit a public outdoor place for the purposes of open air recreation alone)
*“alone” being a condition defined by my maintaining a 6′ 6¾” separation from my fellow humans at all times while outdoors.
It is unclear from the regulations (quelle surrise) whether only a Local Authority may hold a “Remembrance Event” or whether mere individual subjects of The Crown are free to do so – perhaps this is expanded upon in law elsewhere and I just haven’t found the relevant article. However, I think that Para 18(a)(i) applies (it’s not being held in Westminster Abbey) and that ‘the gathering organiser or manager takes [has taken] the required precautions in relation to the gathering (see regulation 14) in accordance with and satisfaction of Para 18 (Exception 14) (c)‘.
I hope that this dutiful due diligence on my part will preserve me from a “Fixed Penalty Notice” starting at £100 (if quietly and obediently paid within 14 days, £200 should the offender vacillate or otherwise dither in the matter of guilt) and rising to £6,400 should second and subsequent “offences” be committed, being issued to me by an “Authorised Person“.
Notable Benny, in the case of Business “offenders” the “Fixed Penalty Notice” begins at £1,000 and rises to £10,000, upon the word of the same “Authorised Person“.
Oh, if only I were an ‘elite sportsperson’, when I would be otherwise exempted. When is Grouse Season? Ridin’ to hounds, anyone? [dinahmow!] Sometimes the words do not mean what they may at first be read to mean (and are intended so). Words are important things.
If you have the time and the patience of Job you might check for me – the following link is to Her Majesty’s Government’s website, and leads to what, as far as I can tell, is the relevant legislation in pdf format. Tis also shown here below.
Wish me luck.
Before you dive in to the reading – and it’s all quality stuff, carefully written, as legislation should be – I draw your attention to Paragraph 9(1)(a) and 9(1)(b) which – get out the crayons and colour me in as a fussy old Hector if you will – appear to me to ban gatherings of more than one person at a time on private property.
Participation in outdoor gatherings
9.—(1) No person may participate in a gathering which—
(a) takes place in a public outdoor place and consists of more than two people, or
(b) takes place in any other outdoor place (including any outdoor part of a private dwelling) and consists of two or more people.
There’s a mighty difference twixt “more than two people” and “two or more people”. Good innit?
These possibly typgraphical obfuscations are understandable methinks, since the restrictions were conceived on Saturday the 31st of October for announcement the following Monday, but “leaked” on that Saturday by an errant independent free press (was that a laugh or a cough, Hutson?), written by Whitehall Civil Servants on Monday the 3rd, laid before Parliament* on Tuesday and came into force on Thursday.
*Haven’t we all been, at some time in our tourist lives in the old days, before The New Normal?
The irony of this situation and the process necessary for my “Due Diligence” does not escape me.
Ahhh… coffee. It even smells delicious. One ought really to sniff it more.
Chin-chin, and should this blog go quiet please do begin with the hospitals and search right through to the lime-pit at the rear of Crewe Police Station. Should you find me in the lime-pit then please be advised that my Last Words were ‘Avenge me…’
Before I lost the will, what with all those words’n’stuff, bordering on the sensible… well for you anyroad! Legal jargonese etc., let me tell you a story, a story of today. The husband strolled up for his Sunday morning paper, like men are wont to do. He spied a group of men of assorted ages, some with the long suffering in tow gathered to remember on the site of the government officially closed Sunday morning market. Beer bottles were in evidence and those spritely enough to hop up, were sat on the empty market stalls, all jovial after their own personal 2 minute mark of respect. Stuff the regulations, page 9 paragraph 26, sub section howsyourfather, hung heavy in the air. Only saying.
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Tis risible how our great and glorious betters (!) still worry so about “possibly” losing the respect of the nation… when in truth we have tied them to the proverbial lamppost and driven away at high speed from them with n’ery a backward glance. They’re not even worth laughing at these days. I wouldn’t trust any one of them to run a bath, let alone a country under pandemic conditions. Aside from that, all is well.
I’ve come to the conclusion that given social distance and everyone masking, I will participate in normal life. Mind. The larger population has also decided this and our numbers are skyrocketing. But I think it’s like living in a war zone. You just accept that hell is hell and you live there. I feel anxious and guilty at the same time.
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Given the scope and scale (and professionalism) of the PsyOps that have brought us to this point it is indeed difficult to do many hitherto normal things without scanning the horizon for the glint of Quisling binoculars! It’s rather as I imagine rural war-time must have felt, but without the all pulling together en masse, and without Vera Lyn. I keep breaking out into a chorus of ‘Whale meat again, don’t know why, don’t care when, but I know whale meat again, some sunny day…’
This past year of purposeful lies and political dissembling has almost totally eroded away even the last minor, force-of-habit vestige of trust most folk had in “our” “government”. Like fifty-six million sheepdogs trying to answer to conflicting commands given on six different whistles each day by twelve different shepherds it is impossible to not just sit on our haunches now and look puzzled, wondering who to bite first.
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Grouse season? You’ve missed it, dear. The Glorious Twelfth is August. Never mind, you’d probably be a lousy shot and be sent packing.
How do you fare on horseback, galloping over fences in pursuit of the inedible?
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Whenever I have taken to horseback (and I have, many times), there is never any doubt between the horse and I which of us is in charge.
For the puposes of clarification, it’s always, thus far, been the horse. 🙂
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