Lockdown in Blajel. afl. 24
Since the government proclaimed that we - well, so I won't be allowed to go back to the streets after 15 May but we will have to wear a mask, my Facebook page is filled with advertisements for masks of all shapes and sizes. Especially in different price ranges. One provider is simply twice as expensive as the other, although there is hardly any difference in the masks. I picked one out and ordered a box of 50 pieces. Can I go ahead for a minute? If it is okay they will be delivered next week and I will be there well in time.
The hotels and guesthouses will open again after 15 May, so we can - well, I don't - start planning fun trips again and that industry can at least try not to make the losses too high. Other countries are being looked at with suspicity, and I think that the relaxed measures will be in line in most countries. Several airlines have already announced the first flights on their normal routes. Of course everything still under all kinds of conditions and that will entail for the time being: I am not.
So I'm not. I'm starting to get a little rebellious. I understand that there are people at increased risk, and it is also good that certain measures are taken to protect them. But, in my opinion, this is going to smell a bit of age discrimination. As if everyone over 65 is suddenly a greenhouse plant whose roots are already dying off, with the mind of a faded pickle with which they can no longer decide what to do to protect themselves and what risks they may or may not take.
That rebellion makes me balmy, which is why I launched my own conspiracy theory on Facebook yesterday. I think Blajel, the village in which I live, simply does not exist and is a figment of a mysterious bunch of descendants of Dracula. These Draculians are most likely hiding in the underground vaults that almost every house here owns. According to tradition, there is even an underground corridor between Blajel and Medias. In those vaults, the Draculians deal with mysterious things that cannot tolerate daylight. These processes probably release strange gases because I sometimes see my neighbor slightly swinging and gazing out of the cellar. I had often noticed that when you enter many houses you get a glass filled from a bottle without a label or one that makes you suspect you are dealing with spring water. Although the fluids are very similar to each other, it is always the question to what extent your esophagus and stomach burns away when you knock the glass back at once to local use. The Draculian woman or man is ready to refill the glass. Well, I'm not.
By the way, have you ever noticed that Dracula looks very much like a bat? So the link to the Covid-19 virus is quickly established.
Het meest belachelijke dat wij hier hebben is de regel dat je, als je niet tot hetzelfde huishouden behoort, achter in de auto van iemand anders moet zitten. Goede vriend komt mij halen om boodschappen te doen, geeft mij een zoen, houdt vervolgens het achterportier voor mij open, brengt mij weer naar huis, draagt mijn boodschappen naar binnen, geeft mij ten afscheid weer een zoen. 😁