The everyday blog of Richard Bartle.
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1:25pm on Monday, 3rd August, 2020:
Wearing a mask in shops means I can wander around and no-one recognises me as being a famous TV soap star. OK, so that's because I'm not any kind of TV soap star, but they don't know that.
We went to a garden centre yesterday and my wife's face mask broke. One of the ear straps came off, so she ended up having to hold it in place. You're not supposed to touch your mask for it to be effective, so this wasn't really ideal.
Great, now we have to take a back-up mask with us in case something similar happens again.
Actually, it's worse than that. I did actually have a back-up mask, but it was a KN95 one that my wife refuses to wear because she has a hard enough time breathing through a cloth mask, let alone one so small as to deny access to viruses. Of course, this does means viruses can get through more easily, but as my wife observed, a crowd can get through a door but it takes time.
We bought a pair of long-armed secateurs and I spent the rest of the afternoon cutting down brambles that had shown the brazen temerity of trying to spread in our garden.
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