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Out of the frying pan

Having just survived the Covid pandemic George, my neighbour, has fresh fish to fry.

Last Wednesday, while sipping cold beers on our respective roofs, George broached the subject: “What do you think about this new thing… this monkey pox xi haga?”

I decided to try to play it cool: “Nothing to worry about; or so they keep telling us.”

Naturally George was far from mollified: “That’s what they said about Covid – and look where that got us.”

I tried a shrug, not that easy while clutching a full tankard of beer: “I shouldn’t worry about it George. Anyway they say it’s not often fatal.”

George sniffed dismissively: “Ha! Knowing my luck it won’t just kill me… it’ll work me over first… big time.”

Oh yes I did try to change the subject. Knowing his love… yes love – for AC Milan football club, I asked if he thought they’d do any good in next season’s European Champion’s League. I was wasting my breath.

“It’s like chicken pox you know… bloody great welts all over your body – and they say it’s not dangerous. Do me a favour… I don’t believe a word the authorities tell us these days.”

Nothing new there then. I casually asked George if he would be putting the family back on lockdown, in view of, what he seemed to perceive as, the impending threat of a mega monkey pox outbreak. Now George is no fool and – by the long quizzical look he gave me – it was apparent that he thought I was… well taking the piss. Which of course I was.

Nonetheless, I don’t doubt that my neighbour will definitely be drawing up contingency isolation plans in the event of a monkey pox “pandemic”. Even a perceived monkey pox pandemic and one confined to the area surrounding his home.

This was sort of confirmed when my wife met up with Christine,

George’s wife, last week. She confided that she was dreading her husband exhibiting yet more extreme behaviour, and the threat of a new and terrifying disease.

My wife retorted something to the effect of: “Well he (George) managed to catch Covid… eventually – and that didn’t kill him, so what’s he worrying about?”

But Christine explained that her old man is by nature a worrier, so if he doesn’t have something to worry about… it worries him.

Proof of this, if any were needed, came as we chatted on our respective roofs the other evening. After a preamble about the effects of the current heatwave, George suddenly changed tack and muttered: “You know the local Covid figures are going through the roof, don’t you.”

I replied that yes, I had heard something of the kind. George continued: “It’s my belief that the government is trying to kill off as many old people as it can, to save on pensions and such like.”

I came back with the observation that without actually knowing his age, I reckoned that George was in his mid-40s, so needn’t worry too much… just yet.

He snorted: “Me? No… but you had better start sweating a bit.”

I held my tongue but it’s true: these days anyone over 55 is regarded as a gibbering geriatric. So perhaps my neighbour is right… Maybe I had better put down a deposit on a Zimmer frame. It seems I shall soon be putting it to good use.

Lifestyle & Culture

en-mt

2022-06-26T07:00:00.0000000Z

2022-06-26T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://maltaindependent.pressreader.com/article/281951726500287

Malta Independent