A Presumption of Innocence
Every now and again a Gangster Granny makes front page headlines when she's caught dealing in drugs. HM Prison Holloway isn't where I want to spend my retirement but obviously there is a small minority that thinks differently.
During lockdown we have been surrounded by neighbours with not only courier deliveries but also collections. Laughingly Mister E and I have come to the rather comic conclusion that it must be opiates. Were you to meet these upstanding members of our community, you would understand how ridiculous the notion is.
Sadly, however, if they could see the contents of the parcels I have handled of late, they might be forgiven for assuming my own guilt.
A few days ago I despatched a DNA test. Tracking down my ancestors has reached the stage where the need to mix spittle and stabilising fluid has overridden the long and desperate wait for the reopening of the County Records office. Honestly it felt truly odd posting a phial containing that blend off to a laboratory for analysis.
However, it must have inspired something because I have since taken delivery of my first weekly package of lateral flow tests. Of course it is possible that I have met my match this time; with so many bits and pieces in the box to acquaint myself with, a 20 page instruction leaflet, hardly any cases being recorded in our district and everyone keeping their distance, it almost seems pointless, not to mention complex, to start using them.
Then this morning there were sleeves rolled up, syringes and needles in abundance, but the only injecting taking place at the vaccination hub I attended (solely as a companion for my mother) was intramuscular with the Astra Zeneca vaccine.
None of which beats the guilt weighing down on me for buying 4 boxes of Ibuprofen to help counter Mister E's inflammatory response to what I'm told was an arduous bike ride.
In fact anyone tailing me might have wondered why my only other trip out this week has been to the pharmacy where I came out laden with prescribed medication. "It was for distribution within the village, Your Honour," sounds like a weak defence when, truly, I was collecting for those less mobile than myself.
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