Positive

Last night’s dream involved boarding an Iberian Airlines aircraft on which there was a carnival atmosphere and a soundtrack of How Will I Know by Whitney Houston (in English, not Spanish).

I mistakenly checked the latest news via social media whilst lying in bed. Trump was giving a typical rambling incoherent response to the fact that a White House staffer has tested positive for coronavirus. His pointless dumb commentary used a questioning tone, exploring the fact she’d previously had a negative test result.

Brad Ramsay of Anchorage summed up what we were all thinking:
‘Wait a minute...he doesn't understand even this concept of how she tested negative and then positive? Most likely, she didn't have it when she tested negative, contracted the virus, then tested positive. Come on people... really...this is the President?’

The simplicity of the man’s thought processes will never cease to amaze me. He just doesn’t have a clue, does he? His cluelessness applies to all levels: about his own levels of ignorance, about how he conveys himself, about how the world functions, about the role of a leader.

Gugs and I cycled along the River Cam to Waterbeach, which neither of us had done for a few years. The weather was excellent and it was a delightful trip along a path bursting with vegetation. It epitomised bucolic England like something out of Midsomer Murders (pre-gory incident).