Working from home

                    Sylvia set out with a light heart to deliver her parcel to the local Co. Co. Council building. It was a fresh May morning and the sun shone. The word from Nphet, the agency charged with advising the Government on the pandemic was as optimistic as she had heard all year, which was why Sylvia had donned her best cloak, and wearing a smile behind her mask decided to deliver that message she had put off for the past months. She wasn’t the only one with that idea. There were several people standing outside the door of the darkened, deserted looking building and when eventually a man came to answer their persistent bell ringing, she was startled by the look of fear in the poor man’s eyes.

              So disturbed was Sylvia by this that she detoured on her way home to visit her old friend, Beatrice of Ratheniska to discuss the matter. She hardly had her cloak off and her feet under the kitchen table, still set with the breakfast things, than she began; “The building was completely locked down, Beatrice, nobody could gain access, there is something very strange going on there.”

 

        Beatrice poured them both a cup of tea before she replied “There is probably nothing ‘going on’ as you say, Sylvia, after all Covid is still out there and people are just working from home. They were advised to do so by the Government.  This applies to County Council workers too.”

    “But it doesn’t explain the fear, Beatrice.”

    “Are you sure that’s what you saw, though,” Beatrice answered.

    “How else could you describe it? The locked doors, the lights out, the empty foyer, the notices on the door, advising the public to ring for an appointment, and then nobody answering the phone, just an automated message,  reminding people about the ‘unprecedented times’ and ‘Covid restriction’. This has been going on for sixteen months now while everywhere else people are agitating to open up! It’s like they are everyone in that building are determined to never again deal with the public!”

      “ describe the scene to me again” Beatrice said, as she munched into a fresh slice of toast and marmalade.

          “When I went to deliver that parcel to Mary. The doors were locked. The lights were out. The post box provided was too small for the parcel. I prowled around for a while, and then I spotted the Security man in the building. I knocked on the glass and waved, and eventually got his attention. He put on his mask, and slowly reluctantly approached the door, unlocked it and opened it just a sliver. Keeping his foot on the door and his hand on the latch he enquired as to my business. The way he reached out to take my parcel with one gloved hand, while still keeping one hand on the latch, as though terrified I might try and rush the building, was a sight to behold. I tell you Beatrice, it was weird.”

     “I don’t see that it’s any of our business, Sylvia, people have been told to work from home and that building is mainly empty, maybe the poor Security man has reason to be afraid that people looking for services WILL rush the building,” said Beatrice.

      Sylvia stood up and she looked her most imposing, she seemed to grow two inches and you could sense the warm glow of outrage from her as she almost shouted “our public servants cowering out of sight and being too timorous to meet their clients?  Is it for this our ancestors fought and died? Of course something must be done about it!” and with that she had Beatrice’s attention.

     “Hm, we could try providing them with something they love more than they fear their clients, I suppose” said Beatrice and with that her glance fell on the Aloe Vera plant in the corner, and she smiled, “Well, of course, succulents! Who doesn’t love baby succulent! Let’s pot these up, in the most attractive basket we can find, infuse them with our love spells and send them in to do their magic! Who could resist caring for these ? Assuming they don’t die before the employees get to see them, that is!”

”We can always send them massages that a surprise awaits them in their offices, that needs their immediate attention, I suppose,” said Sylvia , looking a little doubtful.

And so they started their incantation:

 

 

    

 

 

 

“First the Aloe Vera for an Emma or a Stella or a Jenna.

Its tall majestic spikes

 Hold soothing gel to quell the fear of drama.

Some Euphorbia, known to soothe the spirits,

 When budgets don’t allow expected benefits,

And voices rise in disharmonious fury,

 

 

 

And the headaches this induce

Leaves a worker limp and nervy

And only Paracetamol can cause the pain to ease.

Next, some Sempervium which withstands the cold of winter

And can prevent the chill of sarcasm from leaving workers bitter.

They added Haworthia which has so many variants 

That it helps us see others not as pollutants and vagrants

But as people with talents that might help our community 

Grow Harmony and Prosperity.”

 And with that, the ladies They potted them all in fresh soil and grit

And Sylvia took charge of delivery forthwith

 And made a spell so powerful

That workers might cleave

 To the succulent that gives them the courage they crave

To make the trip daily to the building as needed

So their clients will know that their problems are heeded

Candles were lit and spells were recited 

And the parcel was DPD-ed.

 

              Sylvia awaits the results.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tickets for Mass

The Witches of Dysart Parish were established in the 18th century and had the same ethos as the United Irishmen. Catholics, Protestants and Dissenters were all equally welcome. However discussion regarding religion was strictly off limits at Coven meetings, that is until the fateful year of the COVID Pandemic. Miss Denise, just back from Brussels, where her culinary skills had brought about a reprieve for the tottering Brexit negotiations, was greeted with the news that she couldn’t go to Christmas Mass in Ratheniska, as she had done for the past seventy decades as she had no ticket. “What do you mean , a ticket? for Mass? What ever happened to ‘Oh, Come all ye Faithful’?”
Miss Justine, a regular at the same Church, explained that due to COVID restrictions only a small number of people could attend Mass at Christmas and the Monsignor had arranged ticket distribution through Eventbrite. She failed to get one herself as the tickets were all gone by the time she figured out how to use the Parish Website. Like Miss Denise, she had been reared on the myth of priests who risked their lives to say Mass for the faithful. Priests who said Mass on rocks, in woods and in fields were the stuff on legends when she was a child. To think that Mass was now an exclusive ticketed event, like a rock concert was a blow.
Miss Julianne was of the Protestant persuasion. She was also disgusted that the Catholics had turned their services into ticketed events. The Protestant services were always fairly exclusive . No huddled masses crowded into the aisles for them. But those Catholic were always trying to copy them. First they came for their hymns–“Abide with me” was sung at nearly all Catholic funerals nowadays and now stealing their mantle of exclusivity- really it was taking this ecumenical nonsense much too far!
Miss Norah, the Dissenter, was delighted with this turn of events. She didn’t have to explain her non attendance at church to anyone, and this year no one noticed.
 
She could just have that extra hour in bed. Lovely.
Corrine