28th December 2020

UK deaths: 357. Current Market Harborough infections: 519. UP from last week: 335. The total number of deaths in the UK is  71,109.

The temperature barely crawled above 2°C today, a proper toe-numbing, breath-clouding, stay-by-the-fire sort of day. Jamie, however, took a rather more heroic approach to the cold, deciding to fix his broken central heating himself rather than wait for an engineer to grace him with their presence post-holidays.

The fault lay in the timer control, and naturally, the only replacement part available was 160 miles away in Blackburn. Undeterred by the prospect of a cross-country trek through northern snow, he set off like a man on a mission. Part acquired, he returned home, installed it successfully, and, much to his credit, restored warmth to his shivering household. Late in the evening, he and Ruth returned the borrowed heater, looking considerably less frozen than when they had first taken it.

Around lunchtime, Sarah, Lee, Alice, and Mia arrived for a flying visit. They were in town for a bit of shopping and a coffee catch-up with Sarah’s friend, Chloe. While they braved the retail jungle, I took Mia for a short stroll through the town and along the canal. A brisk walk in the cold, but at least neither of us needed to drive to Blackburn for survival!

29th December 2020: UK deaths: 414. Current Market Harborough infections: 424 (up 235 from last week). The UK recorded another 53,135 cases of coronavirus today, the highest daily total since this whole nightmare began.

Newbold Verdon got a proper dusting of snow, while just a few miles south in Harborough, our feeble flurries barely amounted to anything. Typical. Alice, however, was delighted, as were the Highland cattle, who seemed perfectly at home in the wintry scene.

30th December 2020: UK deaths: 981. Current Market Harborough infections: 487 (up 309 from last week). More than three-quarters of England will be in Tier 4 from midnight after a sharp rise in cases and deaths. Bad news for us, as Harborough, Rothwell, Desborough, and Newbold Verdon are all included. Looks like it’s back to sourdough baking and Zoom quizzes.

On the brighter side, the Oxford-AstraZeneca vaccine has been approved for use in the UK. The rollout starts on January 4th—at last, a glimmer of hope!

After a brutally hard overnight frost, I decided to tackle the vegetable plot. Despite the biting cold, it wasn’t long before I was peeling off layers like a human game of pass-the-parcel; turns out, digging is quite the workout.

The latest wisdom among farmers and gardeners is to not dig at all, something about preserving the soil’s structure and condition. Sounds sensible, but frankly, I enjoy digging, and with full lockdown looming, it’s either that or watching the Welland flow past the house.

This afternoon, Sue headed out for a walk with the Harborough Rambling Club, possibly the last one for quite some time. A shame, as she’d finally convinced Bridget to come along for her first outing. The walk was short, muddy, and enjoyable, winding through the nearby village of Foxton. Hopefully, Bridget’s introduction to rambling won’t be cut short permanently.

31st December 2020 (New Year’s Eve): UK deaths: 964. Current Market Harborough infections: 393 (up 145 from last week). The total UK death toll has now reached 73,512, with a further 55,892 lab-confirmed cases today, pushing the total number of infections to 2,488,780. Grim statistics to end the year on.

Not exactly the New Year’s Eve anyone hoped for, but here’s to brighter days ahead (preferably with less digging and more socialising)!

We’re leaving 2020 with the pandemic numbers still heading in entirely the wrong direction, hardly the hopeful start we’d wish for in the new year. If there’s any salvation in 2021, it will be through an effective vaccination rollout because, let’s face it, expecting humankind to apply common sense and self-discipline seems wildly optimistic. I read the other day that up to 40% of the French population might refuse the vaccine. Surely, that must be fake news? One can only hope. The virus thrives on ignorance and crowds, and sadly, both are in plentiful supply.

Another bitter frost overnight, but I soldiered on and managed to dig another couple of metres of the vegetable plot. While out, I had a chat with Viv over the fence and heard the sad news that Flossie, one of her three dogs, had died horribly over Christmas. To add to their woes, their cat Lulu had also been very ill. Not the festive season anyone would want, and I sympathised greatly. Flossie was always my favourite of the three.

Closer to home, Sarah and Alice are both under the weather with a sickness bug. Fingers crossed, that’s all it is, these days, even the mildest ailment sets alarm bells ringing.

Midnight arrived with little fanfare. In previous years, Harborough briefly transformed into something resembling a war zone, but this time, just a couple of lacklustre detonations and then silence. Even Messenger and Facebook were eerily subdued. You’d hardly know that a truly dreadful year had ended, or that the UK had (almost) parted ways with Europe.