Friday 1st May 2020: Virtual Formality
I have a “Licencing Hearing” at work, following an application for a Licence by a local bar. Hearings are normally held in a Committee Room, with applicants, solicitors, Police, other objectors, and 3 Councillors. Today we are all at our respective homes, apart from the Police Officer in an office. I settle down in the front room with my laptop and meetings papers, where I won’t be disturbed by dogs or wife. It takes 30 minutes for everyone to connect, some using Teams video, others, like me, connecting using my phone since the City Council IT system refuses access to personal laptops. We start with a statement of the section of the Coronavirus Act 2020 emergency legislation that permits the hearing to be virtual, not a public hearing. Participants mute microphones when not speaking, and forget to unmute when asking a question. I have my phone on handsfree/speaker, and occasionally hear an automated announcement that “X has now left the meeting”, and there is a pause while X re-connects. The Chair forgets to ask me if I have questions for the applicant. I do, but today I cannot catch the Chair’s eye – I have to interrupt. Despite the hiccups, the Hearing goes reasonably smoothly, although takes two hours, instead of the expected hour. Normally a decision is instant, but under these arrangements will be released in 5 days. No rush – all bars must remain closed for the foreseeable future
Saturday 2nd May 2020: Too frightened to accept help.
We have a surplus of wild foxgloves, and I am taking some to plant in the grassy verge opposite home when I see a parked van, two cyclists on their feet, and one lying in the road at the top of the Lane. I walk up to investigate – the recumbent cyclist is not bleeding, fully conscious, and commenting loudly about pain in his shoulder. Commenting loudly is a good sign in first aid terms. It seems that his bike slid from beneath him as he rounded the corner, launching him into an oncoming van in the process, cracking the windscreen, apparently with his shoulder. I point out that staying in the road by a junction may result in more serious injuries, and he gets up and settles on the grass verge.
He asks me, as a first aider, to examine his injury, but my treatment will be limited to a sling to support the shoulder. I recommend a call to 111, who will arrange an appointment with a “Walk-In-Centre” or A & E. The Cyclist makes is clear that he will not be seeking medical advice for fear of contracting Covid-19. He even seems to be unsure about allowing me within 2m for bandaging. I point out my address should further assistance be required, and get back to gardening.
I meet with family on Zoom this afternoon, and my student doctor Niece, working on a stroke ward, says that admissions would normally include both serious and minor stroke patients. Only those with serious symptoms are seeking medical assistance. Those who just feel that there is “something wrong” opt for the security of staying at home. Long term damage may be the result. The fear of Covid-19 is affecting the ability to make informed decisions.
Once again, my afternoon dog-walking route includes a section by the M69, and once again only occasional passing cars disturb the bird-song and peace of the countryside. The number of daily deaths in the UK is reducing. Spain is relaxing lockdown. We will all be watching carefully for the the consequences to Spain carefully.
Sunday 3rd May 2020: Lip reading and connecting across The Big Pond:
I read an article about likely future changes to international travel to manage the global spread of Coronavirus. I am reminded of media comments after 9/11, that the world will change. That was nothing compared to the changes that we must get used to until an effective vaccine, if ever developed, is fully implemented. Regular “Zoom” church service this morning.
We are adapting to the limitations of the video technology, in particular the delay between participants, clearly noticeable during the few parts of the service where all respond together. Everyone is muted for hymns, just the music being audible. As one who always relies on a loud congregation, both to drown out my appalling singing, and to keep me in time with some of the more challenging tunes, my online singing is very very quiet, and I lipread one of the service leaders to ensure that I am keeping pace. We all chat afterwards – those working in the medical and care sectors report that they now have adequate PPE.
We have a Zoom get together with my wife’s family this afternoon, including those in USA and Canada as well as Hampshire and Leeds. That didn’t often happen before lockdown. Social Isolation is increasing Social Interaction. Even Mum-in-Law joins in, although we have to phone her and talk her through the process of joining the meeting. This takes up the first 20 minutes of a 40 minute Zoom get together. A second link is e-mailed to all for a second 40-minute chat. This time I volunteer guide Mum-in-Law by phone, leaving the rest to chat as I get her connected. We will ensure she has a practice before next week.
We walk the dogs along the footpath that follows the Lane down to The Glebe, an open area managed by the Woodland Trust, half a mile away. No cars pass us, although on our return journey three cars pass – a positive rush-hour under current circumstances.
Monday 4th May 2020: Bending the rules
We are fortunate to live close to public-accessed land owned by a local quarry, with a network of regularly maintained trails and board-walks. No maintenance is taking place during Lock-down, and boardwalks are suffering, no doubt partly because of increased use by locals (and no doubt not-so-locals) using the area for daily exercise. The longest boardwalk is disintegrating in places, and walkers are advised to keep off, instead walking through the damp vegetation beside it. I have an appointment to donate platelets tomorrow, and yesterday a text reminded me to attend, my journey defined as essential, i.e. I am allowed to travel beyond the immediate locality of my home. Today, while dog walking, I am triaged over the phone to check that I have had no Covid-19 symptoms, nor been in contact with anyone who has.
Due to an unfortunate combination of circumstances and timing, my stepson has been in lock-down with us for over seven weeks, a trying experience for him. He doesn’t share our love of gardening, and has days spent quietly in a separate room while we work at home. His daily highlight is a cycle ride around local lanes. His girlfriend lives 16 miles away, and has recently had minor Covid-like symptoms. As a key worker in the food industry, she qualified for a Covid-19 test. The result was negative, albeit test results are somewhat unreliable. With no timetable for the end of lock-down, she and my Stepson decide that this is an opportune time for him to move back in with her. She arrives today, and loads her car with my Stepson and his possessions. This is totally in breach of Social Isolation guidance, but we fully understand. This is, of course, a one way ticket, at least for the foreseeable future. My Stepson is so enthusiastic to leave that, while manoeuvring a very large suitcase, he trips and headbutts our drive, which retaliates by leaving a freely bleeding cut on his nose. Despite his protests his girlfriend insists on a visit to A&E on the way home, to patch up the damage.
We visit Mum-in-Law to deliver food supplies. She is gardening, and opens the gate to allow Chantal into the house to put items into her fridge. We chat at the gate in the sunshine, suitable socially distanced. Mum-in-Law needs to sit down, but is clearly appreciating the conversation, and so we sit in the garden, metres apart, and chat for over an hour. Another breach of social distancing? Probably, but Mum-in-Law lives alone, and we are her first visitors for seven weeks, other than chats with Chantal from the end of the drive when she delivers shopping. I feel that the benefit outweighs the risk.
My Stepson calls to confirm safe arrival at his girlfriend’s home. At A&E, where his cut nose was treated, he was taken aside and questioned on his circumstances. Yes, he did get on well with his girlfriend. No, he had no issues with Mum or Stepdad. It really was an accident. There have been reports of increased domestic emotional and physical abuse during lock-down, and clearly health professionals are assessing whether intervention is necessary.
The first pack of face masks, ordered from Amazon last week, has arrived, but since for the time being there is no requirement to where masks out and about, they remain in the sterile packaging, at least for the time being.
Tuesday 5th May 2020: A trip into town.
I am working at home when there is a crash from the kitchen and a shout of “Oh S**t” from my wife. Chantal is very refined when stressed. She had opened a stairgate, used to keep wet dogs in the kitchen, and ended up wearing the stairgate while lying on the floor and clutching her ankle. I rescue her from the floor, but am firmly told not go near to the affected limb, and certainly not to apply first aid, and so I abandon work to finish the job that she was about to start – walking the dogs. On my return we conclude that, since Chantal can move her foot, a sprain, not break, is probable, and I resume work, leaving Chantal on the sofa with a raised foot.
This afternoon I drive into Leicester for an appointment to donate platelets. Roads are quiet, although not deserted, and it takes just 20 minutes to drive in, 10 minutes less than usual. In the city centre streets are almost deserted, just a few isolated people, and a sprinkling of Deliveroo cyclists. Almost all shops are closed. The atmosphere is more like a Sunday morning than the middle of a Tuesday afternoon.
I make my way to the Donor Centre. Signs direct donors to a door usually used by staff, an area now used for triaging for any risk of potential Covd-19. However, I am waved in through the normal door where the receptionist just confirms that I have been triaged by phone. Today is exclusively for platelet, not blood, donors, and there are only two of us. As usual I have to complete a lengthy health-related tick-box form, and pens are available on the desk. This time there are two containers, one for new and one for used pens, the latter presumably disposed of, potentially contaminated.
As expected, the carers wear masks, although I still recognise them, and we chat just as we always do. One tells me that her daughter has just moved house, after a lengthy delay. A “man and a van” was hired, but the “man” stayed in his cab, leaving the couple and some friends to unload, all carefully weaving around each other to maintain social distancing. Mum, my donor carer, called briefly to drop off some food, which was consumed on the front lawn. The Police arrived – the event had been reported by a neighbour as a party in breach of social isolation guidelines. This is not a socially healthy aspect of a locked-down community.
On the way back to the car I walk through the covered market, where just 10, of over 250, stalls, are open, all selling fruit and vegetables. No non-food stalls are open. Maybe more stalls open at weekends. I stop to buy some fresh vegetables for Mum-in-Law and the stall holder tells me that trade has been steady during lock-down, with fewer stalls on any day, just enough to stop the City Council choosing to close the market. On the way home I visit our vet for medication for Tia, paying by phone from the car park, and collecting the medication from a basket outside the entrance door.
Wednesday 6th May 2020 – A trip to A&E
BBC reports that Professor Neil Ferguson, a leading epidemiologist who advises the Government, has resigned after his love life caused him to breach the social isolation guidelines. Or to put it another way, it wasn’t his brain that was making decisions at the time. He should have followed the rules, been a good example. But, at a time when difficult decisions are to made “based on science”, can we afford to lose the advice of such a specialist on a point of principle?
A pleasant dog walk in warm sunshine, seeing a hare run across a field in front of us. Tia considers chasing it, but experience has taught her that there is no point, and she turns back after a few meters. On my return Chantal is on the phone to her GP, describing the symptoms of her still painful and swollen ankle after yesterday’s breach of social distancing involving a stair gate. The Doctor notes that Chantal is at an age when bones are not as robust as they once were, and an X-ray is advisable. We visit the our GP to collect a referral, the paperwork passed through a partly open window overlooking the rear car park, unsettlingly close to a door marked “Red Zone – authorised access only”, presumably the access for suspected Covid-19 patients. The journey to Leicester is similarly unsettling, slowly following a coffin-ladened hearse for miles before it turns right toward the local crematorium. There is no cortege – only a handful of closest relatives can attend a funeral.
The hospital has a brand-new shiny Accident and Emergency Department, but this is now reserved for Covid-19 patients. Chantal must first be triaged for C-19 symptoms in a small shed – even the term “portacabin” is too grand. I am not allowed into the shed, but Chantal eventually emerges from the back door, being pushed in a wheelchair by a porter. The GP had confidently told us how quiet A&E will be, and our visit will be short. The Porter disagrees, and suggests that I go home to wait. Chantal is wheeled past the shiny new A&E building to the “Emergency Department” in a Victorian building, where patients are few, queues are short, and having examined her, a Doctor offers to wheel her to X-ray, as he has no patient waiting. After only 90 minutes I am summonsed back to Leicester to collect Chantal from outside the Victorian building. A broken ankle has been diagnosed, and I find her sitting on a raised wall in the cool wind, her right leg terminating in a large and cumbersome orthopaedic boot.
I am now the sole dog walker, and, to be honest, I am quite happy with this. The dogs and I stroll across the fields behind us, and see a small group of lads gathered on a bridge in the distance. As we approach the bridge along a tree lined path, the lads approach us in ones and twos, two on bikes. Without exception they are polite, wait for us to pass, and thank us for keeping socially-distanced.
Despite the booted ankle Chantal states that she must go to Sainsbury to return some clothes purchased last week. The official reason is that they didn’t fit, but I suspect a couple of XL items were purchased to ensure a reason to return to the store. Unfortunately, this time I must accompany my semi-disabled wife. As expected for early evening, customers in Sainsbury’s are few and socially distanced, the aisles wide, and “Scan-and-Go” allows simultaneous “Pack-and Go”, without the rushed belt-loading and bag-packing that I detest at Aldi. In fact, shopping would be a pleasure if it wasn’t for my wife’s incurable habit of browsing every selection before purchase. Some aspects of normality remain.
Thursday 7th May 2020 – Not a first class postal service
Funny the things that you unexpectedly miss. On a fine late spring morning I realise that I miss cycling to work.
At lunchtime I organise a Zoom get together with work colleagues, sending a link to personal e-mail addresses since corporate IT do not approve of Zoom. It was nice to catch up over a beer or cup of tea as preferred, noting the long and untidy hair styles, with banter much as in the office. We agree that we will not be meeting in the office again anytime soon. Back on office duties I receive two letters from an irate resident, who had received a letter from me about her alleged loud music. She is grumpy because she first wrote over three weeks ago, got no reply, and wrote again two weeks ago. Post sent to the office building is sorted, opened, scanned, e-mailed to the Team, and then forwarded to the recipient, and there is a lot of potential for delays. I receive both letters today. The residents has provided no contact number or e-mail address, and so I must write a reply, which is e-mailed to a colleague, who will print it, and take it to the post room on Tuesday. It will be another week before my letter is delivered. Arrangements are being made for central printing and posting, which will help.
Tonight’s clapping (and other noises) on the Lane turns distinctly social. Friend and neighbour Richard has retrieved a saxophone from the loft, and, despite never having played sax before, spent a while learning the tune to ”Over The Rainbow” (well, the first couple of lines) which has become the theme song during lock-down, a song of hope. After the clapping/pan-banging/saxophone Richard was happy to perform an encore, walking along the Lane to applause. Thanks to this and discussion about arrangements for VE Day celebrations tomorrow, we and our neighbours chat in a socially distanced manner into the dusk.
Friday 8th May 2020 – VE day anniversary celebrations
For us it has been, for once, a day barely tinged with Coronavirus. Even before my first cup of tea I am at the front of the house erecting a somewhat makeshift tripod of garden canes to display the three small Union Jack flags that I found in the loft yesterday for todays celebration of the 75th anniversary of VE day. Sensibly I change out of my dressing gown, and so am at least dressed when chatting to the three dog walkers who pass by while I am getting my flags to dangle as they should.
I return from the morning dog walk in time for the 11am two-minute silence. 10.58am Is eventful. Our GP surgery calls for Chantal to discuss her broken ankle, Golden Retriever Ellie finds a tray of stagnant muddy water and proceeds to excavate it, and barks furiously when excluded from the kitchen, behind the utility room door. Thus, as Prince Charles and Camilla stand in front of the lone piper, and the canon sounds the beginning of the silence, I am hanging on to a wriggling and smelly puppy, with the sound of a conversation about a swollen and blistered foot coming from an adjacent room. Nevertheless, the dogs and I remain still and silent, if smelly, for two minutes, and subsequently watch as the piper plays, and Charles and Camilla lay their wreaths.
Friend and neighbour, Richard and I arrange a VE day lunch with our respective wives in our respective front gardens, chatting, several houses apart, on Facetime. The word spreads among other neighbours, and by 12.30pm the grass verge along the Lane is lined with tables, flags, food, and various beverages. Music from the 1940’s is played, audible at least some of the tables, as neighbours celebrate the anniversary together, socially distanced by several metres. Cyclists and walkers, both with and without dogs, pass by, smiling and waving, and politely crossing the road to maintain their distance. Cars slow and hoot and occupants’ wave. It is just as well that cars slow down since any conversation with another household involves standing 2m out into the road. Lunch extends for a couple of hours before we all drift back to our own front doors.
We watch Churchill’s speech announcing the end of hostilities, introduced by contemporary footage from the war, from soldiers to civilians, factory workers to Air Raid Precautions Wardens, and footage from VE Day celebrations in 1945. After the speech, bands from the Household Division regiments play patriotic marches, each bandsman standing at least 2m from any neighbour.
Later I walk the dogs down to the village, accompanied by the smell of barbeques from houses along the lanes. Sadly, I come across a large pile of beer bottles and cans on The Hill, left by a gathering last night. I meet a dog walker from an adjacent village, who notes that the village pub car park is often full on a fine evening, despite the pub being closed. He thinks that people drive from out of the district to gather on The Hill.
Tonight, we watch the Queens Speech, and afterwards neighbours once again gather outside, this time for a rendition of “We’ll Meet Again”. We have all printed the words, and Richard holds a Bluetooth speaker in the air, playing the song for our guidance. We all sing with enthusiasm, but I can’t help feeling that we all peaked during our rendition of Happy Birthday to Captain Tom Moore a week or so ago.
Saturday 9th May 2020 – Have we already had it?
An interesting time line has emerged. During this afternoon’s family Zoom get together, my sister in Baildon, West Yorkshire, refers to media interest in a Bradford Community Choir. Coincidentally, while browsing Apple News, I come across a BBC article about this. In December 2019 a choir member returned from a business trip to Wuhan, and developed a “hacking cough”. During late December and January many members of the choir became ill with lung infections, including difficulty breathing. The choir meet in Baildon, and had a drink afterwards at a The Bulls Head, Baildon. At the end of January the pub landlady developed a lung infection, with symptoms including breathing difficulties “like breathing through treacle”.
Pre-lockdown my sister sang with a choir associated with the Bradford choir, which share some members. On 20th January 2020 we visit Baildon, to introduce Ellie to my sister’s dog. In early February Chantal notices that she has difficulty breathing when walking up local hills, worse than usual, noticing it in particular during a photographic trip to the Cairngorms (when fortunately, poor weather limited planned ascents). On 24th February her breathing difficulty was such that she visited our GP, who promptly referred her to Hospital on the same day. After several tests the consultant advises that nothing sinister is going on – Chantal “just has a virus”. I don’t recall mixing much with the local community in Baildon in January, but we opened several well-used field gates. As I said, probably just an interesting timeline.
Today we visit a local pharmacy for dressings for Chantal’s booted-and-blistered right foot, and I pop in the adjacent Co-op for essential supplies. Chantal asks out loud if I am really going to queue just for beer? Obviously a ridiculous question, which amuses a few people in the queue. I also buy, on request “cherry tomatoes on the vine” for a neighbour, taking great care to choose packs with the latest eat-by date. On our return home Chantal points out that I may have taken great care about dates, as trained to do so, but have actually purchased plum, not cherry, tomatoes. I have now been the regular retail-buyer for the household, Mum-in-law, and to a lesser extent, for our neighbour for over six weeks, but it seems I still need to keep practicing. Our neighbour was very understanding.
Sunday 10th May 2020 – A (provisional) plan to relax
A Zoom church service, and as the audio connects, I hear peals of laughter from those already logged in. It appears that I am the source of mirth. Last weekend after spending 20 minutes talking Mum-in-Law through the process of joining a family Zoom gathering, I re-named myself from the usual “Neil” that appears on Zoom, and Zoom remembered this. Consequently church members see the unexpected message “A Tolerant Son-in-Law is joining”. I promptly revert to “Neil”.
During the church service the house phone rings, an audible voicemail is left, the answerphone beeps repeatedly and then Ellie barks to be let outside. I have learned, when un-muted, to keep my cursor hovering over the mute option, silencing any unexpected domestic noises. The big advantage of attending a “real” church to worship is that, for a while, you are away from outside world distractions, allowing the praise, prayers and message to have undivided attention. On the other hand, although other household activities can intrude on Zoom, only a handful of the 20+ participants are visible at any time, the service feeling more personal, like a tutorial group rather than a lecture.
Later Chantal’s family has a Zoom gathering. This time Mum-in-Law is the first to join on Zoom, having opened her e-mails earlier in readiness for Chantal’s invitation to join the online get together. There is no-doubt that lockdown has encouraged many to gain confidence in communicating online, which must be a benefit.
Boris broadcasts his plan for relaxing lockdown. This post is not the place for the details, but I like the Governments attempt to explain why any plan cannot be set in stone. I like to think that I have a reasonable understanding of the concept of risk and probability. Most people don’t. If this wasn’t the case, the National Lottery would not be the success that it is. Consequently, many people just want to know “So, is that a Yes or a No?”, rather then the unavoidable “It Depends…”. The graphics used in the broadcast state the stages and timescale for relaxation, while, I think, clearly explaining why these may change, and that “the brakes may be re-applied”. The details of what aspects of relaxation will be relaxed at each stage were limited, maybe inevitable in a 14-minute broadcast. We all must await full details in the report presented to Parliament tomorrow.
Monday 11th May 2020 – It depends
Frustratingly the connection to the office network repeatedly drops. We receive a corporate e-mail confirming that we will continue to work from home for the foreseeable future, despite factories allowed to open subject to social distancing. Companies have said that reducing occupancy of a shop floor will mean night shifts to maintain production.
I text my fellow drinking buddies to postpone tomorrows Zoom-and-a-pint session, since I will be enjoying a Zoom family quiz organised by Granddaughters, to celebrate my stepsons’ birthday. Tonight, we share dog training exercises by WhatsApp with our Dog Club. Lockdown is one long social whirl.
We have more details of the roadmap for lockdown relaxation, and even more questions. I had subscribed to Government e-mails which add details to the regulations and guidance. The stream of e-mails became an avalanche, with protocols, procedures and practical arrangements that dealt with issues and questions as they arose, too many to read. I have had to unsubscribe. No doubt the issues and questions of the relaxation plan will be similarly dealt with, details and clarification being released over forthcoming weeks. From the latest guidance it seems that lockdown will continue for us pretty much unchanged. We can now walk the dogs twice a day, and meet a dog walking friend on The Hill, socially distanced, so that our dogs can run together. No change there then. Masks are recommended in busy indoor spaces where social distancing is not possible. Aldi falls into that category, as does Sainsbury until late afternoon, but not in the evening. I will take a mask on my next shopping trip, just to be prepared.
Initially there is a suggestion that two people from a household can meet socially outdoors with people from another. So that will be G&Ts on the patio with our friends up the Lane. Then the guidance evolves to state that up to two people from one household can meet with one from another, so Richard and I drink beer in one garden, while the Ladies drink gin in another. The final clarification is that meetings must take place in public spaces. We can drink beer and gin together, but only on the grass verge at the front, part of the highway, forcing ramblers and dog walkers to cross the road in order to maintain social distancing. The concern about gardens is, it seems, the possibility of having to go indoors for lavatorial purposes. Richard and I would be in a garden full of large shrubs. Lavatory arrangements would not be an issue.
Similarly we can visit Mum-In-Law, who is vulnerable and has stayed safely within her home and garden for over seven weeks, but instead of sitting, 2m apart, in her enclosed and sheltered back garden, we must sit with her, socially distanced, on the pavement in front of her bungalow, while others in the Cul-de-Sac weave past us.
The answer to the question of “Is it safe to meet one friend in a garden?” is “It Depends…” But you cant have rules based on “It Depends”.
Tuesday 12th May 2020 – A glimpse of normality
A cheerful start to the morning – a BBC reporter “jamming” with Bucks Fizz, “Making your Mind Up”, from the days when you could sing along to Eurovision Song Contest entries. I almost join in. The Song Contest was planned for next weekend – thanks to Covid it has been cancelled for the first time in its history.
Working at home, the connection to the corporate network still proves unreliable. I spend the day commenting on planning proposals. Under normal circumstances I would visit the locations to check what else is in the vicinity. Nowadays I rely on Google Street View.
Chantal has a second X-ray of her ankle this afternoon. Traffic during our journey to the hospital is already busier than trips to Leicester last week. Later I note that the M69 is also busier than for a few weeks. Some workplaces may have already re-opened following Boris’s speech at the weekend, or maybe there is a general change of mood, a switch from a lockdown mindset to “just be careful”, maybe more relaxation than Boris intended.
We stop briefly outside our office, where Chantal has arranged access to collect some documents. Security are present to let her in and accompanied her to into the building. All personal access fobs have been disabled after the security company discovered a handful of employees busy at their desks, despite the office being closed, although presumably not locked. While waiting I look wistfully at the various adjacent sandwich shops, all closed, wondering how many will survive. Chantal’s hospital appointment is short, and I am recalled to collect her just as I pull onto our drive after returning home. The result will be discussed during a phone consultation on Thursday.
I am dispatched to the village Co-op for just three items. Locals have managed to create a long queue, stretching across the shop-front, consisting of just three people each over 2m from their neighbour. Boris may be trying a new relaxed approach to social isolation, but the village residents are having none of it.
Wednesday 13th May – Access denied
I wake and look blearily at the bedside clock. It is 6am, and I decide to go back to sleep. Why? Because I can. I do not miss being woken by the alarm clock. When circumstances return to normal, I shall miss the flexible working arrangements of lock-down. Of course, the “new normality” may embrace a continuation of these working arrangements, with only occasional trips to the office.
Today working at home is a problem. I cannot access the network. IT eventually re-sets my account this afternoon, and I re-set my password, concentrating on remembering when I use capitals. No doubt tomorrow I will try to log on with my original password, and wonder why I cannot access the network.
A regular corporate “Coronavirus Update” reports that masks for carers, in short supply, have been obtained from a variety of sources, including vets and hairdressers. On one occasion this involved an after-dark exchange of packages, with several boxes being collected and loaded into a Range Rover parked in an empty supermarket car park, no doubt covered by CCTV. Inevitably the Police duly arrived, but were pacified once appropriate ID was produced.
Once again, our dog walk this evening takes us close to the M69 motorway. The volume of traffic is not quite up to a normal rush hour, but is a lot busier than on any evening last week. The local footpaths remain busy, as they have been throughout lock-down. For most people lock-down continues, but the journey time to a desired location to take exercise is no longer limited. Maybe the paths around The Hill will become even busier if we get “tourists” from further afield.
Thursday 14th May 2020 – A visit to a testing station
During last night’s Zoom visit to the pub, “drinking buddy” Richard, mentioned that he and his wife had been tested for Covid 19, after reporting vague aches on the “Zoe” App supported by Kings College London. There was clearly no point in asking last night – me remembering details after two bottles of Old Crafty Hen wasn’t going to happen – and so on my request he tells more details today. I am rather hoping that this is as close to C-19 testing that I will get, and so will share the experience, with Richards permission.
Richard and his wife had mild nausea and aching joints for one day which they reported via the app, and accepted an offer of a test for Covid-19. Richard received a link to the Dept of Health and Social Care web site to apply for a test for himself and anyone else in the household, with guidance on how to answer the questions. He opted to be tested at a site on a local supermarket car park, where appointments were readily available. The entry gate was manned by a soldier, and Richard lowered his window to explain that he was early. The soldier promptly bawled at him to close the window forthwith, if not quicker. Communication was by phoning a number held up on a board. They were directed to an empty vehicle lane, windows closed.A second soldier held up a contact number for communication purposes, and explained the process. The invitation for a test was scanned, and the test kits passed cautiously through a lowered window. They were directed to a parking slot, with the instruction that if assistance was needed, turn on hazard lights, or, if dying, sound the horn. Maybe the latter depended on a dying person falling against the horn. There didn’t appear to be any medical staff present.
There were 3 or 4 other cars, the occupants of the nearest gagging as they tried to swab their tonsils. Richard and Chris introduced their own swabs to their tonsils, also gagging in the process, and bagged the swabs. A soldier at the exit presented his phone number for a chat, checked everything was in order, and gave permission to lower a window and to deposit the samples into a tray. The process took about 20 minutes, and results are expected in 2 to 3 days.
I dog walk a little later than normal, and the Hill is busy, with cars parked opposite the gate onto the Hill. Couples and families, some with dogs, are accessing the Hill from all directions, with a few small groups at the “summit”, but the area is large enough for people to maintain social distancing, and all do so. A friend greets me, shouting across the slope. I haven’t seen him for a while, and initially don’t recognise him. I have never seen him with long hair.
Chantal receives a call from an orthopaedic consultant following a second x-ray of her broken ankle. He is pleased with the early healing; the orthopaedic boot is doing its job. He tells her that he is happy for her to walk around while wearing the boot, and yes, she can go shopping. This evening we head for Sainsbury at time when it will definitely be quiet, with no queues, but Boris’s lockdown-relaxation speech seems to be the cue that retail-addicts have been waiting for. The queue stretches along the store front, and down the side. We abandon Sainsbury and drive to the the nearest Aldi. The queue is short, the shop quiet, and Chas unstoppable. The Trolley overflows. And we still have a Sainsbury trip tomorrow.
Friday 15th May 2020 – Desert Islands
Today we should have been travelling to North Yorkshire for a week in a cottage on the North Yorkshire Moors. Social isolation guidelines do not permit one night away, never mind seven. Hopefully our re-arranged booking for July will be allowed.
I occasionally listen to Desert Island Discs on Radio 4. This morning the presenter and guest compared the views from their respective homes, where each were in lockdown for the recording. The presenter had a view of North London roofs, the guest looked out over Yorkshire Moors and the Pennines. As the guest said, for the past seven weeks we have all been stranded on our own desert islands.
Friends Richard and Chris receive their Covid-19 test results. Chris passes (or “negative” as the result describes it), whereas Richard is dubious (or “uncertain” as stated in the result). He is invited for a second test, and sets off immediately – many appointments are available. Whatever is limiting the number of daily tests, it isn’t availability at the test locations.
Back to Sainsbury this evening, late enough to be able to walk straight into a quiet store. Yesterday in Aldi almost no-one wore masks, despite narrow aisles making social distancing difficult, whereas in the wide sparsely populated aisles of Sainsbury masks were common, although only worn by a minority. Maybe it’s a Sainsbury-Clientele Culture thing. Maybe Sainsbury customers like to be seen to be doing the right thing.
Gardening for most of today, from where I saw people using the BMX track on the sports field across the fields, the first time that I have seen it in use for weeks. Society is gradually unlocking.
Saturday 16th May 2020 – Getting together and staying apart
We have our first visitor since lockdown rules are relaxed. Chantal’s friend and fellow photography enthusiast visits for a catch up, bringing her own flask of tea, and carefully maintaining social distancing rules, sitting significantly more than 2m from either of us. Even when I briefly join them, before leaving them to gossip, the two-householders-to-one-visitor rule is complied with. The only breach of rules is that we sit in our back garden, rather than in the public space of the roadside verge, but as our friend did not use our indoor facilities, I am satisfied that the risk of viral transmission is no higher than for a roadside meeting, indeed, being away from passing ramblers and dog walkers, it is probably lower.
The subject of interpreting the relaxed rules comes up in our family Zoom get together this afternoon. My sister digs out the official guidance to clarify what is and is not permitted. It doesn’t help much. Initial interpretation is that only one person from a household can meet, in a public space, only one person from another. Upon re-reading we agree (I think) that two householders can meet one person from another, but further analysis suggests that whereas the couple are within guidelines, the single person has breached them by meeting up with two people from another household, despite all being at the same meeting in the same public place at the same time.
We both visit Mum-in-Law to deliver food, and find that she has no problem interpreting the rules to her advantage. Her gentleman friend has been invited over, and since in these circumstances it has been long established that two is company and three is a crowd, we don’t stop for long. Mum-in-Law has time to tell Chantal that a gift-bag with fruit and some “luxury biscuits” has been delivered by young girl from Patio Parade, a local charity that puts together gifts for elderly people in social isolation.
A glorious evening dog walk in late sunshine, the path busy with cyclists, runners, ramblers, other dog walkers, and one chap sitting in the sun with a book of crosswords, all carefully avoiding each other. I do miss the social interaction while walking the dog.
Sunday 17th May 2020 – Getting out and about
I start my day by perusing the Big Issue with my morning cup of tea. I’ve been buying the Big Issue street magazine regularly for a few years, not just to support the homeless, but also because I enjoy the articles, particularly the various reviews. Vendors are now off of the streets, many in temporary accommodation, some in hostels, and some in hotel rooms. Most appreciate the experience of a bed in a private room, but according to some articles that I have read the sudden change from life on the street to isolation in a hotel room comes with its own stress. I have missed my weekly read, and was pleased to see a “Special Shop Edition” in Sainsbury. For the time being the Big Issues is available in some supermarkets and on subscription.
One article is about the companionship that dogs provide, well known in this household. Sometimes it is my regular dog walks that keeps me sane. As the article says, this has been a good time for most well-loved pooches, with their Humans keeping them company all day, but one day all will be back to normal, dogs left alone for part of a working day, and maybe pets will need to be gradually re-introduced to their own social distancing. But, as the article concludes, not just yet. Our pampered pooches are lucky – with our working arrangements they are rarely on their own for long.
Zoom church service this morning, with our customary chat afterwards. Apparently, Burbage Common café, about 15 minutes from here, is open, and customers can order a bacon butty (or cake or toasted sandwich) for service to tables outside. Unfortunately, since social isolation rules about driving or exercise were relaxed, The Common has become very busy, the car park full. Maybe we will postpone the trip for now.
We attempt the weekly Zoom get together with Chantal’s family, but this is the first weekend since lockdown rules were relaxed. One part of the family is walking in Yorkshire, another in the New Forest, and one potential participant is playing tennis. In fact, the only participants are those of more mature years, who cannot take advantage of the relaxed lockdown to get out and about, because the lockdown jobs in the garden aren’t finished yet. Lockdown has also been relaxed in Canada, and Chantal’s brother, living in Northern Ontario has been invited for a postponed skin surgery in Toronto next week, 1000 miles from home. Social distancing is impossible in an aircraft cabin, and so he will be driving, much of the route taking him alongside the Great Lakes. He must have a test for Covid 19 near home before he sets off – he will know the result within an hour.
Monday 18th May 2020 – Parallel stories
A suitable socially distanced dog walk with my friend Richard, one of us from each household, in a public area, at least 2m apart, proving what law-abiding citizens we are. Fortunately, the guidance does not include dogs – Ellie has not seen Richard for a while, and is very enthusiastic about renewing the acquaintance. Ellie’s trailing lead comes in handy for preventing her from being equally enthusiastic when greeting oncoming dogs and owners, and occasionally, if I am not quick enough, for hauling her back to my side from a safe distance.
Richard and I chat about films – he has watched Contagion, a 2011 film with a plot that is scarily similar to the events that have lead to the current Coronavirus and Covid-19 crisis. A virus, originally bat-born, spreads across the globe from China, and the story-line includes many aspects recognisable during the current pandemic. The film has not surprisingly become popular during the current contagion. I had come across references to the film elsewhere, but did not realise quite how closely many details of the film mirror the spread of Coronavirus, although I believe that the film has more sub-plots and the deaths tend to be more dramatic.
I tell Richard of a story that also has similarities with the current pandemic. Being an old-fashioned sort of guy, the story that I found of interest, in the New Statesman, was a little less contemporary. In 1330’s and 1340’s bubonic plague spread from the Far East, with the modern (for the time) transport network of Mongolia allowing the disease to become a pandemic. The first European country to be affected, by travellers arriving from the East, was Italy, although in this case Sicily, not northern Italy. From Italy it spread across Europe, although taking months, not weeks. The pattern, if not the timing, of the spread of Bubonic Plague, was similar to modern Covid-19, although, as far as I know, the bodies of Covid-19 victims have not been thrown over any city walls to persuade the residents to flee, as happened with plague victims when the Mongol army lay siege to Kaffa.
I arrive home as a friend is pulling away from our drive, having left a welcome gift on our doorstep. Some people have groceries left outside, others luxury chocolates. I have two bottles of ale, including a Marmalade Ale, from Market Bosworth Brewery, and they are very welcome. Like many other microbreweries with normal outlets closed, Market Bosworth Brewery has adopted Click and Collect, order bottles online, and collect from the brewery. I shall enjoy those during our Zoom pub get together tomorrow.
During this evenings dog walk I am reminded of a comment that Richard made earlier. Where space permits, such as on field verges, where once was a single well-worn path, there is often a parallel track, a socially-distanced 2m from the original, created as approaching walkers diverge to avoid each other.
Tuesday 19th May 2020 – Just another day in the office
I have a brief gardening chat with a neighbour and fellow dog walker while out and about this morning. The largest of the local garden centres opens tomorrow after weeks of being closed under social distancing guidance. A village garden centre, closer but smaller, opened last Wednesday, with, I am told, cars queuing to be allocated a parking space, which effectively maintained social distancing for customers once they entered the centre. My ale-appreciating friend who delivered bottles of beer to my doorstep yesterday, was on his way to this village garden centre, and promised to let me know how busy it is. I have heard nothing. He may still be in his car queuing at the entrance.
Working at home on a gloriously warm and sunny day, and I move my “office” into the garden, at least until a crop-sprayer starts operating in the field behind us, with just a fence between my laptop and the crop. No doubt the spray is harmless to humans, but my laptop is due for a battery charge anyway, and so I retire indoors for an hour or so. I hope that the spray is harmless, since the contractor must have had a lunch break, and when I return to the outdoor office, listening to classic FM on earphones, he creeps up behind me, spraying just a few metres from the fence.
Walking around the quarry edge this evening I plan to sit on one of the rocky “outcrops” and enjoy some contemplation in the evening sunshine for a few minutes, but each is already occupied, and I find a grassy spot elsewhere to spend a while enjoying a different vista of local countryside. By the time that I return home the routes round The Hill and the quarry are busy with families exercising. No doubt under normal circumstance some of these would be involved with football clubs, dance classes, Scouts or other social activities, with parents dashing around as a taxi service. Social distancing must be both straining and strengthening family relationships.
A Zoom pub get together this evening with mates who would normally be joining me at the Heathcote Arms on a Tuesday night. I decide to sit in the “pub garden”, earlier designated the outdoor office, but as the sun went down, for some reason the Wi-Fi connection to the house becomes unreliable. As the others chat they get a virtual tour of my garden while I carry my laptop indoors to enjoy the rest of the evening closer to the router. It is a sign of how much we miss the natural conversation and banter that flows in the atmosphere of a real pub. At one stage we discussed the pork chops that someone had cooked for dinner. That conversation would never happen in the village pub
Wednesday 20th May 2020 – Planning the return
Our Wedding Anniversary, and I gain Brownie Points because last week, while shopping in Sainsbury with Chantal, I use the pretext of browsing for something in the gardens section while Chantal starts shopping. I manage to choose, pay for, and deposit in the car a card and chocolates, with only a brief “Where Have You Been?” comment when I find Chantal in the food aisles. The pre-lockdown procedure would have been to nip into the town centre from the office at lunchtime on the day before, and just sneak the chocolates into the house when Chantal isn’t looking. Lockdown requires more than usual pre-planning, not my strength.
An early dog walk around the quarry edge before the day gets too warm. Others have the same idea, and I meet quite a few people, walking, cycling or just chatting and enjoying the views. It is not too busy, and giving way to on-comers to maintain distancing is normal and natural. I have time to sit for a while on rocks overlooking the countryside, away from other people, gathering thoughts before starting the day
Our first office team meeting for two months this morning, using Microsoft Teams. I log in early, soon joined by another colleague, who sounds as though she is speaking while blowing bubbles underwater. As others join, they too are speaking underwater, and I realise that the problem is not colleagues speaking underwater, but me listening underwater. I eventually log off and re-join, which resolves the audio problem, but now my video image is on its side. Rather than fiddle with options during the meeting, colleagues have to accept that I am lying down throughout the meeting. This afternoon IT suggests that an update of Microsoft Edge should resolve the problem.
We discuss arrangements for a return to the office so that we can start visiting local residents again. Two people are needed for individual safety (we deal with some interesting characters). Two in the office can easily socially distance, but not when two people are in a car, as is the practice at night when one person drives and another answers calls. Guidance from our employer is that two in a car does not require facial covering, merely copious amounts of alcohol hand sanitiser. Current Government guidance is that face coverings should be worn whenever social distancing is not possible. A cynic may conclude that there is a desire by our employer to resume normal services, but not to source a supply of face coverings.
Thursday 21st May 2020 – Preparing to open
I start the day with a walk, in morning sunshine, across the fields behind us, still slightly dew-damp, damp enough for the dog’s paws to raise just small puffs of pollen from the meadow grass, rather than hay-fever-inducing clouds. Summer is approaching, and we might be allowed out to enjoy some of it, even if we don’t have total freedom to roam.
I respond to e-mails from church friends about opening up our church again once relaxation of social isolation guidelines allows. We must consider what activities can, or more likely cannot, resume. Initially we must almost certainly restrict the use of the church to Sunday services, and must think about social distancing. We must design, a one-way system to prevent bottlenecks, a seating plan that maintains 2m distancing, manage the inevitable social chat, maybe limit access to certain parts of the building for ease of efficient cleaning. There is a lot of detail to consider and for once none of us have any more experience than anyone else. We must just apply Government Guidance to our circumstances. With no services, church income is severely reduced, and we don’t know whether people will make up the loss. We decide to postpone some planned improvements to the building – we may not be able to afford it.
We have food to deliver to Mum-In-Law, and on the way, we notice that the local Honda dealer is optimistically restocking the showroom and forecourt, empty for weeks, with new cars. While waiting for in the car for Chantal to finish chatting to her mum (from the safe distance of the driveway) I idly turn on the radio, and hear The Archers, a radio soap, supposedly in real time. I realise that I am listening to a replay of a Christmas episode from 2014. Thanks to lockdown no new episodes have been recorded for many weeks. News, current affairs, chat shows, music shows, documentaries and gardening programmes are all being broadcast from the participants living rooms, but not drama.
A rushed dog-walk to make sure that we are home when the Lane “Makes A Noise For The NHS”. Chantal has my metal dog bowl and spoon ready, and we are first on the front, quickly joined by most other neighbours. For some it is the cacophony of metal bashing, horn blowing and whistles that reminds them that it is 8pm on Thursday, and they come dashing out with their own tools to join in the racket. We stop after a few minutes, but two cyclists turn the corner to pedal down the Lane, and we start again, especially for them, getting a smile and wave in return. Even those just passing are reminded of our gratitude to the NHS.
Friday 22nd May 2020 – Keep taking the medicine
Out with the dogs, I meet friends whose jobs have been affected by the social isolation restrictions. One delivers expensive lease cars, and had a luxury model on his drive ready for a delivery trip scheduled for the day after lockdown was announced. It has remained there for two months. The lease company arranged an appointment to collect it, but realised that this was not an essential journey. My friend must take a GPS-tagged photograph of the mileage each week, just to confirm that he hasn’t been out for a luxury spin. Then I meet another friend also has a motoring related job – a driving instructor, who hasn’t given a lesson for two months, and isn’t sure what will be required to safely resume teaching.
A day off from working at home, and I am tasked with vacuuming, a chance to put on noise cancelling headphones, and catch up with some podcasts. Radio 4’s “More Or Less” is a favourite, dissecting numbers and statistics in the news. Testing for Covid 19 has, unsurprisingly, been a regular topic, looking closely at Government claims that its target of 100,000 daily Covid tests has been exceeded. It appears that the figure quoted by the Government includes all home testing kits that have been posted out, even though a significant proportion of kits are not delivered, or not returned to confirm whether the test is positive, and so not actually used for a test. The Government will not release figures for home tests actually returned. 30,000+ tests for research purposes are also included, submitted in connection with studies after symptoms were reported via a phone app such as “Zoe”. These test results are not used by Public Health England to track the number of infections. The number of test results actually used by Public Health England to assess the infection rate is about half of the number actually announced by the Government. Does this matter? Yes, if the number of tests is a tool to safely manage relaxation of social isolation.
In early March our neighbours had some roof repairs undertaken, the roof safely accessed via scaffolding. The scaffolding was due to be dismantled in late March, but presumably the company deemed it difficult to guarantee social distancing when dismantling, transporting, offloading and storing scaffolding. I would have thought that having two blokes at either end of a scaffold pole would be exceedingly effective social distancing. Nevertheless, the scaffolding remained in place until today as, with a fanfare of clanking steel, the shape of the house is once again revealed. I am sure that, with reduced construction work and low demand for scaffolding, that company has been using our neighbours house for convenient storage.
I collect medication for wife, neighbours, and dogs, all from different villages, a pleasant 15 miles journey along various country roads. The neighbour’s medication is from a dispensing pharmacy, where I queue for 15 minutes despite only 5 socially-queuing people being in front of me. Chantal’s is from our GP, where signs direct me away from reception to the rear car park, and a tap on a window results in prompt service.
The visit to the vet to collect a prescription involves phoning from the car park to announce my arrival, and then collecting the medicine from a basket outside of the door. A vet is talking to someone through a car window, before collecting their dog from the back of the car, and leading it through the back door of the vet practice, presumably for a consultation which, in the interests of social distancing, is without “Mum and Dad” being present. The pooch trotted quite happily beside the vet. One of our dogs would certainly refuse to be led away by a vet.
On May 6th it was revealed that Professor Neil Ferguson, a leading epidemiologist who advised the Government, a useful chap, had breached lockdown rules. He resigned. Tonight, it is revealed that Dominic Cummins, a political advisor to Boris Johnson, has breached lockdown rules. We are waiting for a resignation…..
Saturday 23rd May 2020 – A visit to the garden centre
My morning dog walk is curtailed by a heavy shower. I briefly shelter under a tree, sharing the space, suitably distanced, with a lady from a village at on the edge of Leicester , while our dogs play in the rain. During lockdown she has exhausted her local walks, and since relaxation of lockdown, has been walking around The Hill. Today was the first time that she has discovered the network of field paths around us. I suspect that limited travel has encouraged local people to explore closer to home, and that the increased number of people using the routes around us may continue beyond the Covid Crisis.
I continue to consider the practicalities of opening our church for worship, once we can. There is guidance available from “Head Office”, including a Covid Risk Assessment form, identifying where people could potentially come within 2m, so that arrangements to avoid this can be planned. Advice on cleaning is limited on both Government and Methodist Church websites – plenty of instructions for a deep clean if a premise has been used by someone who has or develops Covid 19 symptoms, but little on general cleaning of community buildings before and after use by the public. The USA Centre for Disease Control is helpful, but refers to products available in the States. Hopefully more UK guidance will become available as further social isolation relaxation takes place.
A particular treat today – our first visit to a garden centre for over two months. Chantal needs compost, and none is available at local supermarkets. We visit a local village garden centre, which has the “one-in-one-out” policy that we have become familiar with for supermarkets, but in this case applies to cars. No pedestrian customers are allowed access. We queue on the site access road for only a few minutes before accessing the car park, where only alternate parking spaces have been made available.
In both outdoor and indoor areas of the centre the arrows, signs, and 2m markings are as we have got used to in supermarkets, but it is easier to avoid other customers in a spacious garden centre . As you would expect, a trip to buy just compost inevitably involves browsing plants, shrubs, and other products, an opportunity that we haven’t had for months, and we return with two lavender plants, various garden care products as well as two compost bags. As we leave the queue of cars has lengthened to beyond the “15 minute waiting time” sign.
Chantal’s friend visits at lunchtime, and I leave them to gossip in the garden, each complying with social distancing, other than the requirement that they should be meeting in the “public space” of the grass verge in front of the house. Being socially responsible, I am unable to take part in a detailed and fascinating conversation about cameras, lenses, tripods, accessories, and the best place to photograph a peregrine falcon.
Sunday 24th May 2020 – Rebellion
A group of us chat after this morning’s virtual church service on Zoom. One lady, a Carer, visited a client earlier this week and complimented a neighbour on the floral display in the baskets hanging along his front fence. He pointed out that he had hung baskets precisely 2m apart, to provide guidance to those queuing at the adjacent bus stop, a pleasant change from lines of sticky tape on the floor. This Carer tells us that she is visiting fewer clients now that relatives are once again able to visit to provide care.
My church is in a village 6 miles from home. Most church members live in the village but some, like me, have moved, although still local, and still attend the church under normal circumstances, nowadays “attending” virtually from home. I have been asked to do a bible reading, and realise that the friend doing the reading just before mine is doing so from the next village, her home almost visible across the fields from me. For time being, wherever we live, we all have the same distance to travel to get to our church service – just a few steps to the laptop, PC or smartphone.
After the church service I collect an order of flour from a local watermill, a few miles from home, managed by friends of ours, who we have known for many years. Under normal circumstances a wide range of flour products, very popular locally, is sold on site and distributed through local shops, but after lockdown the Mill was no longer able to sell directly on site, and had to adapt to circumstances. Customers e-mail an order, and receive an e-mail in return with a range of times to phone to pay, and to be told a time slot when the order can be collected, left in a box at the end of the drive. Chantal arranged the order yesterday, and I am dispatched today to collect the goods at noon. I successfully complete the mission, or so I think, but receive a text as I drive home, from our friends at the Mill, to say that I may have successfully collected a carrier bag full of bags of flour, but there is a second carrier bag, that I failed to notice, the other half of our order. I turn back after arriving home to meet our friend is at the Mill gate with the second part of our order, which at least gives us a chance for a brief chat.
The double journey to the Mill gives a further opportunity to listen a podcast, this time “The NHS Frontline”, recorded by NHS workers dealing directly with Covid 19 patients. Patients being intubated with oxygen, in an induced coma, spend 16 hours each day on their front to aid breathing. They must be turned over twice daily. The demands on intensive care clinical staff are great, and so volunteers turn the patients regularly. A radiologist is interviewed. The demands on his specialist team is reduced since Covid 19, and his team volunteers to undertake this task, a task that seems so basic, but which is so critical for the welfare and recovery of the patient.
On the way to the Mill (twice!) I pass our local Scout campsite, normally busy at this time of the year, but not used for over two months. I recall my last visit there, two weeks before lockdown, joining a “working party” maintaining the site. Social Distancing was in its infancy, limited to no contact, and there were jocular suggestions that for the foreseeable future we would no longer be able to shake hands, and the new normality would involve everyone touching elbows instead. We hadn’t got a clue about what was coming.
This afternoon we give in to temptation. to bring the dogs and share a gin and tonic or two in our friends garden a few doors away. Every precaution is taken. The back gate is unlocked, and we go straight through to the back garden. Two tables are set out on the patio, 2m apart, each with its own bowls of nibbles. We have also brought nibbles to share, in new sealed bags. Each couple is seated at least 3m from the other. We do not go in the house to use the facilities; Chantal pops home, and as for me, well let’s just say that I needed to take the dogs for a walk, accessing the fields from the bottom of the garden, after which I had no need of the facilities. Although Richard takes part in the weekly pub Zooming, and we have all exchanged pleasantries when meeting on the Lane, this was the first time that the four of us, who in normal times enjoy pub meals together, have had a face to face chat for any length of time, and it was good.
Other neighbours, who have been strictly isolating themselves for two months, have also decided that it is time to adapt. One simply decided that his car needed to be started and driven for a short distance in the interests of charging the battery, a circular route with no stops. As he said, not exciting, but it was good to be briefly out and about. Another neighbour has had difficulty keeping in touch with friends and family since her laptop failed. She drove to a local town to leave it for repair, minimising social contact. A third couple on the Lane, together with their daughter who lives some distance away, decided that it was time to hug grandchildren. Her daughter and family self-isolated for 14 days in advance, no shopping or other trips from home, and our neighbours drove to their daughters for a brief visit before returning home.I suspect that this is partly how many people will manage relaxation of lockdown, taking sensible precautions to minimise risks, dipping toes into the new normality. Maybe I live on a lane full of rebels. Or maybe I live on a Lane full of people who have the life experiences to listen to guidance, read the rules, and adapt them, following the laid-down principles to manage their own new normality.
Bank Holiday Monday 25th May 2020 – Local tourism
A fellow dog walker comments that she no longer walks along the routes around Croft Hill and Quarry – they are now just too busy. Later we drive past the gate that many people use to access the routes, and find the road verges lined with cars. We have never seen the area so busy, not even after snow, when people congregate to sledge down the slopes. We are now permitted to drive as far as we like for a day out, but possibly people are heeding the pleas of such popular Bank Holiday destinations as the Peak District National Park, the closest “wild country” area to our part of the Midlands, and are staying closer to home, although tweets from the National Park Authority indicate that the Park is still busy today. The National Parks may now be officially accessible, but locals are concerned that a surge visitors will make social distancing very difficult, and in popular villages many facilities remain closed.
This evening a friend who has walked her dog around the quarry confirms how many people are still making use of the various walking routes. Sadly she also reports that a lot of rubbish has been left in some places, where we know that young people gather late at night. This has been a regular problem since shortly after lockdown, when The Hill has been a discreet venue for youngsters wanting some freedom from social isolation restrictions, but has got worse since those restrictions were loosened.
Another change since Boris “loosened the apron strings” is that Zoom family get togethers are more difficult to arrange, now that people can travel further and spend a day away from home. Saturdays Zoom with my family was postponed because participants seem to think that being out and about in warm sunshine, whether walking, with or without a dog, cycling, or picnicking, is a more attractive proposition than sitting in front of screen showing a matrix of family faces. And that is exactly how it should be. Now that folk are no longer incarcerated within their own homes, able to escape to Pastures New (as long as the pastures aren’t too far away), it may be time to reduce the frequency of Zooming. Things are changing slowly in all sorts of ways.
Tuesday 26th May – The practicalities of social distancing.
This morning our Lane is full of heavy plant and men wearing high visibility jackets. For some time the junction at the top of our Lane has been riddled with potholes and sprinkled with gravel from the broken road surface, to the detriment of at least one car and one cyclist who have left the road, at least partially due to the degraded surface. The lane was closed for much of the day, with machinery operating making even passage by pedestrians difficult. Marshalls were in place to allow walkers to pass safely. I’m sure that the workforce were doing their best to socially distance, but tapping the shoulder of the operator of a noisy grinder, to allow me and my dogs to pass, cannot be done from a distance of 2m.
Chantal had an appointment in a nearby village, and since she cannot drive because of a broken ankle, I had to provide a taxi service around the long detour that avoided the road works. I called a friend who lives in the village, to see if he was free for an hour so, to entertain me while I waited for Chantal. My friend was ready and set up for a socially distanced chatting, with chairs set up in the front garden over 2m apart. The family has regular health-related visitors, and since these continued during lockdown, the family have been prepared for entertaining at a time when most of us hadn’t started to think about the practicalities of receiving guests safely.
Chantal’s birthday today, and I have arranged a surprise family Zoom gathering, for both sides of the family, including relatives from the States and Canada, all joining in a PowerPoint quiz organised by our young granddaughters. Having so many people joining in to wish Chantal a Happy Birthday makes it special. It is not so long ago that a call from a family member living across The Pond was a Special Event, exciting, something to tell friends about. Since lockdown the use of video-gatherings has blossomed, and chatting with friends and family from abroad is as mundane at arranging to meet mates at the pub. Actually, come to think about it, chatting to people from abroad may be mundane, but nowadays arranging a meeting in a pub would be a Special Event, exciting, something to tell friends about.
At least conversations during regular international Zoom meetings are now relaxed and flow naturally. No more does it revolve around “What Time Is It Over There? And What Is The Weather Like?”
Monday 27th May – Hair today gone tomorrow
Many Moons ago Chantal ordered a set of hair clippers via Amazon. Hairdressers have been closed since mid-March, and many people have realised that although they may be on lockdown, their hair wasn’t, and it would continue to grow, and consequently, Do-It-Yourself would eventually be the only option for a short-back-and-sides. This occurred to many at about the same time, and demand for clippers outstripped supply. Our set finally arrived today. I will have to pluck up courage to let my wife loose on my bounteous locks. This is better done sooner than later, if the resulting enthusiastic and sophisticated styling is to recover by the end of lockdown.
It is Zoom pub night – because of a family Zoom yesterday, our visit to the pub is postponed from yesterday to this evening. Some of the regulars meet on Zoom with their own families on a Wednesday, and so the “virtual pub” is not as busy as usual, but we do have a friend popping in for the first time. He lives in a particularly rural spot, and generally can’t join us on a Tuesday because that is when his offspring have their virtual Scout meeting, and his broadband can only support one Zoom meeting at a time. He has promised his son that they will install a “trail camera” in woodland close to his home, and so only joins us for the first round, before the Zoom time limit requires a pause to refill glasses while a second e-mailed link is sent. Before he leaves us to install the trail camera, the first-time-regular continues to join in on his phone, striding along a woodland track with son and dogs. This is the closest that we have all been to a proper dog walk to the pub since mid-March. We miss it.
Thursday 28th May 2020 – A waste of a day
I start the day with a dog walk around The Hill with a friend, her eight-year-old son, and their two dogs. The four dogs run and play together, and we humans chat. For the last two days we have been collecting rubbish left on The Hill by people, who might be defined as “Youths”, gathering over the Bank Holiday weekend. The Hill is strewn with cans, glass and plastic bottles, disposable barbeques, waste food, and the small metal cannisters used by those recreationally using nitrous oxide.
My friend’s son helps pick up the rubbish, but, after weeks of training, has now got the hang of social distancing, attempting to lob items of rubbish into the bag that I hold open, with variable success. Yesterday and again today I return home with two carrier bags of waste to be sorted into general rubbish and recyclable items. This evening I walk along the bottom of The Hill, and there seems to be fewer bottles strewn across the grassy field. Someone else is helping to clear up the mess. Tonight, The Hill is once again busy and noisy with young folk escaping domestic lockdown for a while, and no doubt tomorrow I will be removing more bags of detritus.
Tonight, I have a church Zoom meeting , which, from the agenda, starts at “2030”. The meeting is to discuss precautions that we must take to maintain social distancing when we decide that services can be held again, and I have started to complete a risk assessment template in readiness for this online meeting. “Head Office” has provided a risk-assessment template, which I have started to complete in readiness for this evenings meeting, taking account of Sunday service and any future activities in the church buildings. Before the meeting I e-mail my risk assessment to all those invited, and see in my inbox an agenda stating that the meeting was actually this morning. I look again at the original invitation, and realise that the meeting is stated to take place at “2030am”, a hybrid of 12 and 24 hour clocks, a typing error that has meant that I have missed the meeting. I receive a reply reassuring me that my risk assessment will still be useful
I would like to see the weekly Food Bank resume at our church, but this would be a decision made by the Trussell Trust, the charity that co-ordinates the foodbanks. A limited number of foodbanks in the area have been kept open, some only providing deliveries. “Ours” was closed at the start of lockdown. This not only affects those who qualify to collect food, and who must now travel further if possible, but also reduces donations usually left at our church for sorting and redistribution.
It is Thursday, it is 8pm, and for the tenth time we go outside to Make A Noise For The NHS, clapping and being generally rowdy with various kitchen implements. There are rumours that this might be the last national weekly event to thank NHS workers for their sacrifices during the Coronavirus crisis, because it has become “political”. It has not become political on our Lane – it is an opportunity for those on the Lane to gather socially, suitably distanced, to continue to make our appreciation known, in particular for the carers who visit a housebound neighbour on the Lane, and who are often present for the clapping. We’ll see what next week brings.
Friday 29th May 2020 – Its just not cricket (well not just yet)
I’m not usually a sports fan, but this morning I stop and watch a news item about cricket. The reporter seems to discussing the arrangements for a future cricket match. I don’t understand the rules of cricket, and don’t understand what it is about an ongoing game that keeps spectators glued to their seats for day after day. But this report on a forthcoming game is yet another baby step towards the New Normality. It seems that the venue under consideration is perfect because Players can stay inside an on-site hotel. Having a hotel inside a cricket ground doesn’t bode well for the windows.
I remove another two full bags of rubbish from The Hill this morning, but I am relieved that, despite the shouting heard from a youthful gathering on the Hill yesterday evening, no more waste has been deposited
A brief visit to Mum-in-Law to deliver shopping. We discuss whether she will feel comfortable to start joining us for Sunday Roast, which, prior to lockdown, was a weekly appointment involving a glass or two of red. We can certainly safely host a Sunday Roast in the garden, weather permitting. The problem is transport. I would need to collect her. I have a large vehicle, and maybe if she sits on a back seat, we might be 2m apart. As driver, I would hopefully be facing away from her. I leave the decision to her discretion. I think that many of us will be monitoring for any repercussions from the latest relaxation of lockdown before confidently moving forward.
Saturday 30th May 2020 – Future working arrangements
Walking on the fields behind our home I meet up with a with one of the regular dog walkers that we come across from time to time. Like me he is spending more time using the field paths to avoid the large number of people who have been looking for different places to exercise during lockdown, and who have discovered the routes on Croft Hill and around the adjacent quarry. His neighbour is one of these folk, who got very excited, asking whether the dog-walker knew that if you crossed the local sports field, there was a route that led across the fields and back to Croft Hill? My dog walking friend patiently explained that he had been using that particular route, for over 20 years.
Our conversation turned to born-again cyclists, also looking for ways to exercise during lockdown. I commented on the number of cyclists that I now see passing our house on the Lane, some of them serious cyclists on very expensive looking bikes, but most are families on standard bikes that have no doubt been retrieved from the back of the shed. My friend, part of a regular road cycling club, said that working bikes that once went for a few quid on e-bay, are now fetching several times the price asked during normal times.
Family Zoom this evening, and we discuss the arrangements being put in place for returning to work. In my case there will be a limited number of people in the office, likely to be restricted to those on call. Arrangements for the use of the shared pool car have yet to be finalised. One son is an architect, who’s employer will similarly limit the number in the office, with plastic screens to provide protection from airborne viral particles, with employees encouraged to work from home where practical. My other son manages a team of website developers. The lease on his office is soon coming to an end, and an there will be an assumption that many will be working at home when deciding on any move to another office. At my sister’ school where she teaches, students will remain in the same classroom during the teaching day, and teachers will migrate around the school. Normally it is students who move around the school. The capacity of staff facilities has been halved to allow for social distancing.
For one young member of my family there are no proposed changes to the way she works, no proposed changes to staff facilities to enable social distancing, no changes to working methods. She must rely entirely on PPE and is at greater risk from becoming infected by Covid 19 than any of us. She is an NHS Junior Doctor in direct contact with Covid 19 patients. Should last Thursday’s Make-A-Noise-To-Thank-The-NHS really have been the last one, as Government has suggested?
Sunday 31st May 2020 – Celebrations for some
A day of other people’s news, since it has been a social day, a day of sharing news. Zoom church service this morning, once a novel experience, but is now routine, barely worth a mention, but I always enjoy the chat after the service. Two birthdays have taken place, one celebrated by an eight-year-old, who had a party of sorts, with family members socially distancing themselves in a field behind his home to wish him a Happy Birthday. As his grandmother said, blowing out candles on the birthday cake before distributing slices was not really an option under current circumstances. The other birthday was a 91st, which, as the gentleman said, was a much quieter affair than the previous years event. His grandson is currently living with him, having travelled from his parents’ home in Hong Kong, just before lockdown for a job interview in the UK . He had to self-isolate for 14 days on arrival in the UK, staying with his sister. The plan was for him to then stay with his Grandfather, but UK Lockdown commenced during the self-isolation period, and he remained with his sister. He was able to attend the job interview, but didn’t get the job. Following relaxation of social distancing guidelines he could travel and stay with his grandfather, the 91 year old from church. At least my friend from church had company for his birthday.
Tomorrow a further relaxation occurs, when we can entertain friends in the garden, the gathering not to exceed six people. Unfortunately whereas the weather forecast for today is favourable, tomorrows is cold and wet. After a careful risk assessment, we conclude that the benefit of entertaining outdoors on a warm and dry afternoon, just nine hours before the midnight deadline, exceeds the potential health risk incurred from hypothermia during a post-deadline gathering in the cold and wet. We invite two friends, who are also neighbours, for drinks and nibbles in the garden this afternoon, just four of us, a return match for the even more illegal gathering we all had in their garden last weekend. After all, they are only “Cummin” 50 yards, not 300 miles. If I read this in the future, I will wonder what that is all about.
As when we met last week, all is carefully prepared with social distancing in mind, direct access to the garden, couples seated over 2m apart, and separate bowls of nibbles. Some lockdown winners and losers come up in the course of conversation. A small one-man entrepreneur known to Richard has received a Government lump sum payment to support his company through lockdown. The loser is someone known to both of us who’s employer will be making him redundant once his period of furlough is over. We know of a plumber who tended to understate his earnings when it came to paying tax. The consequence is that his furlough payments are significantly less than he would be earning under normal circumstances.
Having spent a significant part of dog walks this week collecting and bringing home bags of bottles, cans, and foil from barbeques on Croft Hill, I comment to our neighbours that it is a good job that the recycling bin will be emptied tomorrow, since mine is full to the brim. Richard points out that it is the general waste bin that is due for collection. And so, despite, or perhaps because of, spending the afternoon imbibing a significant proportion of my weekly allocation of alcohol units, I finish my day by climbing up onto the recycling wheelie bin, and jumping up and down to compress the contents. Someone else can collect the detritus from the Hill next week.
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Continuing lockdown life. I get my first Lockdown haircut
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Life in the UK changed for everyone in March 2020.