It's the start of Week Four of lockdown. Every day now and we're a day nearer to the end of this misery. Things could be worse. It could be winter, with cold, constant, hard rain and little prospect of natural warmth. Many of us can see green fields even if in the distance. Few of us live in flats and we certainly haven't dehumanising tower blocks lunging into the air.
But things could also be better. The six o'clock news on the wireless yesterday was probably the worst bulletin I've heard. Deaths equivalent to the population of Yr Wyddgrug/Mold. A man who returned from Dubai for his 40th birthday who died of C19 at home because he couldn't face death alone in hospital. Some 20 health workers now dead of C19. The prime minister obviously in much worse shape than we first supposed, standing on the very cliff edge of life. Talk not just of a second but a third wave. The UK to see one of the (if not the) highest death tolls in Europe. Without a hint of any irony, there was a report today by the BBC's Rebecca Drought on the dearth of PPE for hospitals. Also on a non-BBC channel today was the statement that "More than 10,000 people have died after testing positive for coranvirus". Did they actually mean it in that way?
Many of us have had to adjust to what commentators are calling "The New Normal". The speed of life has slowed to what we might associate with heavy snow. Snow brings with it first chaos then hiatus: our lives turned upside down as a snow storm ornament only to settle again, at least for now. With snow, there's now nowhere to be and nothing to do but await a melting. C19 has blanketed us in invisible layers, like an unseen icy straitjacket. Our horizons are limited and sealed in a localised bubble of solitude. A carceral existence. The silence of days is like a long chain or succession of Christmas afternoons. We used to love how we unwound at Christmastide, calling a truce on our busy lives. Now, we wait impatiently and restlessly to re-engage. It seems as if prolonged Christmas can be harmful, brutal.
There's a woman who regularly and often walks through town. You'll probably know her or you've no doubt seen her or maybe you've passed the time of day. She's often under a baseball cap, one of a number of older people having appropriated this accessory from youth who've moved on. Her smile reveals slightly crooked teeth. Now, as she walks, she'll cough and splutter. We don't think she's actually ill, otherwise why isn't she self-isolating. Or, more bluntly, would she have the energy to walk. No, this seems to be a crude & clumsy method of clearing the footway ahead of her. She's like a pedestrian version of an enraged Parisian roadhog, beep-beeping as she carves a path around L'Arc de Triomphe. Just who is going to take the chance of getting in her way?
Is this what we've become? Is this how it's going to be?
In non-coronavirus news, the highways people yesterday finished patching up the Mwrog Street culvert, which collapsed in February after Storm Dennis and was under two-way temporary signals ever since. And a pretty good job they did of it, too.
Cae Ddol yesterday
But things could also be better. The six o'clock news on the wireless yesterday was probably the worst bulletin I've heard. Deaths equivalent to the population of Yr Wyddgrug/Mold. A man who returned from Dubai for his 40th birthday who died of C19 at home because he couldn't face death alone in hospital. Some 20 health workers now dead of C19. The prime minister obviously in much worse shape than we first supposed, standing on the very cliff edge of life. Talk not just of a second but a third wave. The UK to see one of the (if not the) highest death tolls in Europe. Without a hint of any irony, there was a report today by the BBC's Rebecca Drought on the dearth of PPE for hospitals. Also on a non-BBC channel today was the statement that "More than 10,000 people have died after testing positive for coranvirus". Did they actually mean it in that way?
Many of us have had to adjust to what commentators are calling "The New Normal". The speed of life has slowed to what we might associate with heavy snow. Snow brings with it first chaos then hiatus: our lives turned upside down as a snow storm ornament only to settle again, at least for now. With snow, there's now nowhere to be and nothing to do but await a melting. C19 has blanketed us in invisible layers, like an unseen icy straitjacket. Our horizons are limited and sealed in a localised bubble of solitude. A carceral existence. The silence of days is like a long chain or succession of Christmas afternoons. We used to love how we unwound at Christmastide, calling a truce on our busy lives. Now, we wait impatiently and restlessly to re-engage. It seems as if prolonged Christmas can be harmful, brutal.
There's a woman who regularly and often walks through town. You'll probably know her or you've no doubt seen her or maybe you've passed the time of day. She's often under a baseball cap, one of a number of older people having appropriated this accessory from youth who've moved on. Her smile reveals slightly crooked teeth. Now, as she walks, she'll cough and splutter. We don't think she's actually ill, otherwise why isn't she self-isolating. Or, more bluntly, would she have the energy to walk. No, this seems to be a crude & clumsy method of clearing the footway ahead of her. She's like a pedestrian version of an enraged Parisian roadhog, beep-beeping as she carves a path around L'Arc de Triomphe. Just who is going to take the chance of getting in her way?
Is this what we've become? Is this how it's going to be?
In non-coronavirus news, the highways people yesterday finished patching up the Mwrog Street culvert, which collapsed in February after Storm Dennis and was under two-way temporary signals ever since. And a pretty good job they did of it, too.
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Coronavirus