BYOB

I used to know what BYOB meant. In my teenage years, it was a bottle of cheap cider or a Spanish red wine that came in a plastic bottle. As I’ve got older, it is rare for me to be invited to a party with BYOB mentioned and if it does, I secretly hope it stands for Bring Your Own Book.

Yesterday was a very depressing news day because of BYOB, or Bring Your Own Bullshit, as Eddie Mair called it on Twitter. 

Journalists have uncovered ANOTHER party in number 10 Downing Street during lockdown. This makes eleven. That’s right, ELEVEN! (Yes, I have been counting). While we were all terrified and many people were completely alone the government were organising after works, socially distant (nudge nudge wink wink) drinks parties. “We’ll provide the nibbles, you bring your own booze.” This gathering has a paper trail. An email sent to 100 members of staff by the Prime Minister’s personal private secretary. It has been confirmed that Boris and Carrie were there by witnesses. Why wouldn’t they be? It was their garden. The email was sent by his personal secretary.

The date of this one was 20th of May 2020. This is very early. It was a few days before Dominic Cummings sat in the garden to defend his eyesight test at Barnard Castle,ten months before Wayne Couzens used the lockdown laws to kidnap and murder Sarah Everard and women were stopped from attending a vigil. It was while only key worker children were in school, before the Black Lives Matter protest and while significant numbers of people were being ventilated and dying. We had just been told that, maybe, it would be ok if we took more than one walk a day and that rules were relaxed to mean that we could meet one person from outside our household for a socially distant walk but playgrounds were still closed off because going on a swing could kill the child’s granny. People were being arrested for sitting on a bench with a coffee. Ten people were allowed at funerals, no visitors were allowed in hospitals or care homes, women had to give birth or miscarry without the support of their partner. One retired nurse was arrested for taking her mother out of a care home to look after her at her own house. 

The news of this party caused the Prime Minister to hide in a fridge and refuse to go to work. However, he but did manage to pop into a vaccination centre, where a journalist caught him on camera, smirking and laughing at her questions. It was really nasty.

 “Were you at the party?” 

Smirk

“We will have to see what Sue Black*says.”

“But surely you know if you were there.”

Twinkling eyes. Laughter. “Enquiry!”

*not Black, Gray. Sue Black is a forensic anthropologist. I decided not to edit her out because everyone should read her work (BYOBook)

Sue Gray is one of those invisible civil servants who might not actually exist.

The news of this party dropped and social media flooded with horror stories of what people’s lives were like on the 20th of May. It was very sad. I expect some of these stories will be in the press today. So much pain, heartbreak and complex grief.

With these sad stories as a backdrop it can make it hard to admit that you had a good lockdown but in the interests of balance I’m going to tell you about my 20th of May 2020.

I took advantage of the new rules that meant you could go for a walk with a friend. We met in the park and walked round for a while and popped into the chemist for paracetamol on the way home. Before I left there had been much excitement because the council had delivered more pink recycling bags. When I got home, I did a bit of work, practised my flute, swore at the piano and sat in the garden for a while, making the ‘most of the lovely weather’.Then I sorted the pink recycling bags, folding them in a way that was easy to access. 

It was a brilliant day. One of my best ever. 

This is what I wrote on Twitter

I know it doesn’t really compare to the suffering of many or the wild Conservative party party but it’s my kind of party. Bring Your Own Blue tit.