Masks, Mandates and Mayhem: How one family kept a sense of humour through the covid panic

By Gail Foster

A sense of humour, a garden, two dogs, an extended family, a 'make do and mend' mentality, new freedom fighter friends and a deepening Christian faith enabled one family to weather the storm that was Covid.

Pervasive and unrelenting fear produced a divide between those who received a 'safe and effective' vaccine and those who did not, a requirement to wear a mask to go to a swimming pool or visit a dentist, job losses, QR checks at playgrounds and the great toilet paper panic. The unvaccinated were separated from family and friends, forbidden to enter restaurants and other businesses, and threatened with quarantine camps. Meanwhile the climate hystericals were threatening to remove meat from the menu, energy from the home and holidays from the family calendar.

'Social distance' 'SADS (sudden adult death)syndrome', 'vaccidents', 'covidiocy', 'new normal', 'safe and effective', 'the science', 'essential services', are now unfortunately, terms in common usage Masks, Mandates and Mayhem invents an alternative laugh and learn vocabulary such as 'Dicky Ticker syndrome', a 'wedding of wallabies', the 'nsq (nutters per square inch) quotient' and 'fart facts' and services such as the 'crow and go' rooster drop off program and 'cinderella cleaning'.

Media lies, police brutality, medical negligence and political bullying combined with technological surveillance to produce the biggest global evil in history.

Laugh, learn and remember.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350948202

Gail Foster

Gail loves pottering round her suburban garden, encouraging her plants as she aims the hose, discovering new veggie babies and staying one step ahead of the wildlife. She has exchanged the role of mental health social worker for that of writer and gardener. Having an answer to the tedious 'what do you do?' question is one of many positives of the writing life. Gail writes because she loves writing and combines it with maintaining an urban paradise in order to balance the budget. As she has managed to carve out a niche in life to provide time, energy and space to write, she is sometimes the recipient of envy and snide remarks. The dirty fingernails from garden grubbing, a preference for free camp sites or the artistic patches sewn on many clothes are not noticed. Her family refer to her as Her Right Royal Green Thumbs (HRRGT) when she is grubbing potatoes, the Head Gardener when directing the under-gardener, the matriarch when overseeing a family function or the Matron when managing a crisis. Her home has lots of books and an untidy garden for her four grand-daughters to enjoy. Gail's latest challenge is staying ahead of the latest crisis while maintaining a sense of humour. She still has a reading addiction, plays violin and dabbles in art. She lives in Hobart Tasmania.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Foreword

1. Code Blue

2. The Peter Protocol

3. Action Stations

4. Panic Stations

5. Figgy Hollow

6. In Sickness and Health

7. Hop to it!

8. Something to Crow About

9. Many Hoppy Returns

10. Murphy

11. The Great Panic

12. Pandemania

13. A 70th Wedding Anniversary

14. The Princess Returns

15. The Railway Village

16. Murphy and the Muddle

17. A Meltdown

18. Pillow Ponderings

19. Finding a Backbone

20. A Spring Clean

21. A Lot of Hot Air

22. Rural Rumblings

23. A Windfall

24. Bug Out!

25. Goodbye Grandpa

26. Bee-twixt and Bee-tween

27. Leaving Home

28. Flee!

29. Snaps and Schnoodles

30. Keep Calm and Carry On

31. A Very Crappy Christmas

Other Books by Gail Foster

About the Author

© Gail Foster – 2024

ISBN: 979-8-35-094820-2

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the permission of the author.

Written by Gail Foster, Hobart Tasmania, Australia

Photography, Layout and Design by Peter Foster

Published and distributed by Bookbaby, USA

This book is dedicated to:

Those who have researched and found the truth, stood with the oppressed, showed courage amidst outrageous ignorance and bullying, cared for the suffering, grieved with and supported families of the dying, used and continue to use every opportunity to warn those who have been deceived.

For those freedom fighters, who have been ignored, derided, ostracised, bullied and imprisoned in the stand for truth.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my husband, Peter who patiently maintains my computer, formats all my documents and uploads my books. He builds and repairs all garden structures and is the all-round domestic handyman. Our five chooks are cossetted in a Henny Penny Palace thanks to his skill and ingenuity.

My eldest daughter continues to live up to her name meaning of shining light and protector. All manuscripts must pass her approval and she regularly comes to the rescue in times of crisis. Her real estate adventures have provided many hilarious anecdotes.

My 92 year old mother continues to inspire as she adjusts to life on her own. She continues to garden, cook and welcome visitors. Aged residents in nearby units now gladly receive her home made meals.

Murphy and Lewis, new members of our family inspire both love and exasperation. Their antics focused our attention from fear to frolic, control to comedy.

Foreword

A sense of humour, a garden, two dogs, an extended family, a ‘make do and mend’ mentality, new freedom fighter friends and a deepening Christian faith enabled one family to weather the storm that was Covid.

From Chapter 18:

‘Yum, this porridge is good. Today we have a lovely splodge of appelmoes, a splot of yoghourt and a garnish of apricot and lavender honey,’ I continued.

‘Enjoy it while you can, many are complaining about empty supermarket shelves and the price of what’s left is going up,’ said Sara.

‘Sigh…’ I sipped my tea for comfort. ‘How will we feed Murphy?’ Murphy looked up adoringly at Sara, his furry feet splayed in total comfort mode.

‘Another farm has been raided by the tolerant green brigade.’

‘This is evidence that protein is needed for the firing of brain neurons.’

‘Now Mum insects are going to save the day. Don’t you think, bug burgers, cockroach crunch and grub gravy has a certain ring to it?’

‘Yes, the ring of insanity.’

Pervasive and unrelenting fear produced a divide between those who received a ‘safe and effective’ vaccine and those who did not, a requirement to wear a mask to go to a swimming pool or visit a dentist, job losses, QR checks at playgrounds and the great toilet paper panic. The unvaccinated were separated from family and friends, forbidden to enter restaurants and other businesses, and threatened with quarantine camps. Meanwhile the climate hystericals were threatening to remove meat from the menu, energy from the home and holidays from the family calendar.

From Chapter 12:

‘I might just go to the loo before I go back,’ I decided.

A small corrugated structure humbly squatted in tall grass behind a large sand dune.

‘Pete, would you believe there is a QR code on the loo, in the middle of nowhere?’

‘Nothing would surprise me now.’

‘And, there are instructions on hand washing but they don’t provide any water.’

From Chapter 21:

‘Why are they taxing methane from cows and not possums?’ I wondered.

‘Why aren’t they taxing cabbage and beans?’ asked Peter.

‘What is stopping them taxing people?’ asked Sara. ‘They’ll do a study soon on human flatulence and climate change.’

‘You mean fart facts?’ I asked.

‘There would be a vaccine for that,’ said Peter.

‘Social distance’ ‘SADS (sudden adult death)syndrome’, ‘vaccidents’, ‘covidiocy’, ‘new normal’, ‘safe and effective’, ‘the science’, ‘essential services’, are now unfortunately, terms in common usage Masks, Mandates and Mayhem invents an alternative laugh and learn vocabulary such as ‘Dicky Ticker syndrome’, a ‘wedding of wallabies’, the ‘nsq (nutters per square inch) quotient’ and ‘fart facts’ and services such as the ‘crow and go’ rooster drop off program and ‘cinderella cleaning’.

Media lies, police brutality, medical negligence and political bullying combined with technological surveillance to produce the biggest global evil in history.

Laugh, learn and remember.

1. Code Blue

‘Honey-bunny, I don’t feel good.’ Peter staggered to the bed and lay down. Beads of sweat trickled down his pale face.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve got pains in my chest. They’re getting worse.’

‘I’ll call an ambulance.’

‘Chew this.’ I handed my husband a 300mg aspirin tablet. Sara pattered quickly into the room, sat down and held Peter’s hand.

‘I know there’s something seriously wrong when you sound calm.’ She looked at me.

Two hours later, Sara and I sat on a bench outside the office of the cardiology unit.

‘Code blue, please report to room 18,’ echoed over the intercom.

‘I hope that’s not Peter.’

‘No mum, Peter is in room 17.’ Two nurses in pale blue scrubs manoeuvred a covered steel trolley towards the critical care rooms. Two doctors and a bevy of students followed.

‘There are an awful lot of them.’

‘Mmmmmm …’

Twenty minutes later a group of chattering students followed two subdued doctors. The nurses pushed the trolley, now littered with plastic packaging, needles, tubing and soiled sheets.

‘Are you Mrs Foster?’ a tall, slim, young doctor asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m afraid your husband has experienced an unaccustomed perfusion.’

‘Pardon?’

‘The stent was successful and the heart was not used to so much blood flow. He went into ventricular fibrillation and into cardiac arrest.’

‘He’s OK now. We brought him back.’ The doctor assured my shocked face. ‘You can see him now.’

Peter lay in bed with a ‘what’s all the fuss’ expression. He wore a stripey, blue, nightdress. Tubes ran from his left arm to a shiny white box. It beeped chirpily at regular intervals. An IV infusion dripped into his right arm. Machinery rumbled outside his window. Construction platforms framed the view.

‘How are you Peter?’ I asked.

‘I’m OK, a bit sore here.’ Peter pointed to his upper chest.

‘You may have a rib fracture Pete,’ said Sara.

‘Why?’

‘You went to the pearly gates. Your heart went into shock after all that lovely new blood pumped in,’ I said.

A large nurse in navy blue trousers and white shirt waddled in, clutching a clipboard.

‘Just need to check the wound.’ She peeled back the sheets to reveal oozing gauze on a leg wound.

‘I’ll just get another dressing.’

‘What did you see at the pearly gates Peter?’ asked Sara.

‘I don’t remember anything.’

‘You didn’t see the heavenly portals?’

‘No.’

‘Too sinful,’ said Sa.

‘Beep,’ the machine agreed.

My younger brother, Warren accompanied my 88 year old mother and 92 year old father on their journey to visit the new invalid. My mother, rugged up in a beige coloured ‘puffa’ jacket and colourful scarf held a large carry bag. She held the bag, decorated with pink roses and blue stripes in one hand and a brown leather handbag over her left shoulder.

‘Hello Peter, how are you?’ she asked.

‘Good thanks, Dorice,’ Peter replied. He sat with feet up on a cushioned