new year reflections: december 2020...

I’ve been scribbling New Year reflections on my blog for a number of years now (as always – just a reminder for ME… because I forget stuff so easily!) but, this year has obviously been like no other. Most of us spend our lives – at least to some extent – planning and anticipating events, but this year has made such things impossible. Planning and anticipation has been replaced by worldwide uncertainty (and, for some, tragedy, suffering and fear).
Little did we know, twelve months ago, that 2020 would bring a devastating global pandemic which, for us in the UK, would see more than 70,000 deaths and some 2.3million cases of Covid-19. It was almost unimaginable.
It certainly put everything into perspective… even if it didn’t stop me being massively depressed and frustrated about UK politics, about Brexit, about our response to the Climate Crisis, about greed, about the Haves and the Have-nots, about mental health etc etc. One of the few positives of 2020 (although some might not agree) was that Trump was voted out of office… and the relief felt by SO many people around the world was tangible.
So, for the time being at least, I’m setting aside such matters and concentrating on ‘other stuff’:    
FAMILY AND SIMPLE PLEASURES:
In years gone by, in my annual résumé, I’ve underlined just how important cafés, reading, drawing, photography, walking, cinema and, of course, our grandchildren are VERY important aspects of my life - it’s SO lovely seeing our grandchildren develop in their individual, unique ways (and they ALL make me laugh!!). It goes without saying that our daughters (and their husbands!) are quite, quite brilliant too!
Depressingly, we haven’t been up to Lancashire (or actually seen) Dave, Mikey, Dan+Jemima all year (Alice came down for a very brief ‘working’ visit back in the summer). Fortunately, we have been able to ‘meet up’ with Ruth, Stu, Iris+Rosa and Hannah, Fee+Ursa from time to time (albeit socially-distanced). Depressingly, like so many others around the country, we haven’t been able to hug our family and friends since March (not to be able to hug one’s grandchildren has been especially tough).
Sadly, this year, visits to the café, the cinema and the like also haven’t happened… and I miss such things terribly.
However, I still draw, take photographs and walk virtually every day… and ‘lockdown’ (and being designated as a ‘medically vulnerable’ person!) has resulted in me developing some new routines – daily dawn walks around the harbourside, for example – which I have absolutely loved. Noticing small changes through the seasons… adjusting to the rhythm of a new week/month/season. I ‘created’ a Blurb book (mainly photographs, plus a few sketches and the odd note) of the first six months of ‘lockdown’ (March-September 2020) and have now decided to put together another one from September 2020-March 2021).
I did some pretty basic ‘investigation’ into Moira’s mother’s family history (interesting, but it didn’t reveal she was related to Robert the Bruce or somesuch!).
Moira and I also took the opportunity (via DNAHeritage) to check on our own family ‘roots’. Investigations revealed the following results:
Moira (far more interesting than me): 63.5% Irish, Scottish, Welsh; 18.9% Iberian; 8.5% Scandinavian; 4.7% English; 4.4% Finnish…
Me: English 86.4%; Scandinavian 10.5%; North+Western European 2.1%; Middle Eastern 1.0% (clearly, looking at these results, it’s JUST possible that a) I’m related to Father Christmas or b) Jesus might have been a distant relative…or maybe even both?)!
FRIENDS:
Well, sadly, we’ve met up with very few friends outside Bristol this year (and, indeed, very few even in Bristol)… but we’re very thankful for the technology that has enabled us to continued to stay ‘in touch’ with friends via zoom and social media. I’m pretty hopeless at staying in touch with people by phone (I REALLY don’t like phonecalls!) but, in acknowledgement of the strange situation we found ourselves in, I decided to arrange zoom ‘meet ups’ with old friends (usually one per week) as the next best thing to meeting up over a pint or glass of wine in a bar or pub… and I’ve been doing that since the start of October and it’s been really rather lovely to catch up.
WONDERFUL BOOKS:
You would have thought that a ‘lockdown’ year such as 2020 would have resulted in me reading far more books than usual. Strangely, this didn’t happen. Yes, I’ve continued to read LOTS of books, but rather fewer than last year (74 compared with 94 last year). Some of this has perhaps been due to my changed routines in ‘lockdown’ (eg. I’ve been walking at dawn rather than reading in bed!).
The Storysmith Book Group (run by our lovely local bookshop) has continued to be brilliant - interesting books, lovely people and good fun too (albeit that we’ve had ‘meet’ via zoom)(who knew that technology would become so vitally important in the pandemic!)… and I’ve also been part of the ‘Blokes Books’ bookgroup linked to my local church and involving some great mates (we don’t choose religious books for our zoom get-togethers!). In lockdown, I found myself frequently resorting to books I’ve previously read – probably in the knowledge that they would represent safe, comforting reading options!  As always, I’ve tried to limit the number of highlighted books to ten… and, as always, I’ve failed miserably! Here are 14 of my favourites (in no particular order): 
The Outrun (Amy Liptrot); Black+British (David Olusoga); The Wild Silence (Raynor Winn); Lowborn (Kerry Hudson); The Body (Bill Bryson); The Thursday Murder Club (Richard Osman); All The Light We Cannot See (Anthony Doerr); Girl, Woman, Other (Bernardine Evaristo); A Walk In The Woods (Bill Bryson); Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury); Rebecca (Daphne Du Maurier); Lockdown (Peter May); Trieste+The Meaning Of Nowhere (Jan Morris); and Waiting For The Last Bus (Richard Holloway).
GREAT FILMS:
As you might imagine, Covid-19 drastically curtailed the number of times (just 7) I went to the cinema this year (my last cinema visit was 11 March). In the circumstances, it seems pointless to list my favourites (but I thought Jojo Rabbit was excellent).
But, in order to compensate for going to the Watershed regularly (and I DID really miss it!), I ended up re-watching most of our old DVDs (it was lovely to be reminded of some really wonderful films) and also lots of films via BBC iPlayer (getting on for 50 of them?!) – which, in the past, I hadn’t bothered to utilise.
LOVELY LIVE PERFORMANCES:
It’s been SO sad not to have been able to go to the theatre, concerts and see exhibitions this year. We’ve really missed it. Here are the few that we did get to experience (depressingly few):
THEATRE:
Romantics Anonymous (Bristol Old Vic).
But we’ve also enjoyed streamed performances (via Bristol Old Vic)… Wise Children; The Grinning Man; Christmas Carol; and Swallows and Amazons.
CONCERTS:
O’Hooley+Tidow (St George’s).
EXHIBITIONS:
Refuge+Renewal: Migration+British Art (RWA); Rembrandt (Ashmolean, Oxford).
SPORTING MOMENTS:
I enjoyed continuing to be a season ticket holder for the Bristol Bears (rugby) – and they did really well this year – finishing third in the Premiership in the 2019/20 season and winning the European Challenge Cup. Obviously Covid-19 greatly restricted the number of games open to spectators from the end of February onwards. In the light of the pandemic, I haven’t renewed my season ticket for the current season – which only started in November (although they had given season ticket-holders access to ‘live streams’, I wasn’t able to take advantage – my phone doesn’t  ‘do’ internet and my laptop doesn’t do Windows10… yes, I know, I’m an old fogey!!).
I didn’t get to see a single football game (frankly, although I continue to follow my beloved Aston Villa, I’m afraid that my love of football has waned and I’m really no longer that interested).
I had been really looking forward to watching a fair amount County cricket this year – especially with now having Somerset and Gloucestershire both in Division One – but, it wasn’t to be… thanks to the coronavirus. I DID manage to get to see a couple of Bedminster CC games (just a 20 minute walk from home) – which was lovely, but definitely didn’t compensate for the ‘real thing’!
Watching sport on TV (when that’s possible) in stadiums completely devoid of spectators seems futile to me.
ART STUFF:
Despite the coronavirus, it’s been another enjoyable, busy year, including:
1. I’ve still very much enjoyed continuing to post a drawing or photograph every day as part of my “One Day Like This” blog (well over 3,000 consecutive days - more than 1,500 drawings and 1,500 photographs - since I started in September 2012, more than 8 years ago). Circumstances have limited the number of times I’ve able to draw ‘on location’, but ‘being adaptable’ has seemed to be the key requirement this year and it’s been fine.
2. The brilliant Drawing Group I joined in 2017 – organised by the lovely, talented artists Charlotte and Alice Pain – continues to bring me pleasure. We used to meet for two hours most Tuesdays in a variety of locations in and around Bristol but, due to the virus, we’ve been limited to sharing our drawings online (good, but not the same… and I definitely miss seeing everyone.
3. Sadly, for the second year running, there was no ‘live’ Arts Trail this year (we’d previously participated for 15 consecutive years). There was an ‘online’ version but, as I wasn’t trying to sell anything, I didn’t think this was appropriate for me. Fingers crossed for next year.   
4. One Week 100 Faces: I participated in this scheme again and duly produced my 100 faces in a week (mixed bag as far as quality was concerned!).
5. Urban Sketchers, Bristol: I’ve continued to really enjoy this wonderful group (which I joined in March 2018)… it’s a worldwide organisation and, here in Bristol, in ‘normal times’, we’d meet up every month and regularly get more than 20 people coming along. This year has proved difficult(!), but we’ve adapted wonderfully well (again, thanks to technology)… and have been ‘meeting’ together in various locations around the world (I know!)… Spain, Portugal, Greece, Columbia, France, Wales and England (to mention just a few) sketching from via Google Streetview and (at the same time) chatting via zoom! It’s been hugely enjoyable and great for people to have been able to keep in touch in these difficult times. It’s very, very enjoyable: we compare notes (and sketchbooks!) and share ideas. I’ve made some lovely new friends and have been ‘roped in’ to be one of the admin people (alongside Jules and Jane) who help run the group. It’s become a real highlight and joy.
6. Blurb book (‘Love in the Time of Covid-19’): I put together a self-published book of photographs (plus a few sketches) covering the first six months of the pandemic.
SOMETHING YET TO BE CREATED:
1. Another Blurb book: I decided to follow up my ‘Love in the Time of Covid-19’ Blurb book with a second volume (‘The Winter’s Tale’) covering the subsequent six months ie. up to March 2021. It’ll be interesting observing the seasonal changes… and, I suspect, it might contain a little more text/comments?
2. There are lots of things I’ve missed due to the pandemic, but I realise that I have sorely missed sketching people (albeit quite badly!)… I would regularly sketch over my lunch at the Watershed before going to watch an afternoon film. I very much hope that I’ll be able to do this again in 2021.
3. I think I’d like to read more about some 19^th and early 20^th century British artists/illustrators (eg. Arthur Ransome; Dod Procter; Aubrey Beardsley; Gerald Leslie Brockhurst; Meredith Frampton; James Cowie and Winifred Knights perhaps?).
4. I want to become a little more ‘experimental’ in my sketching/watercolouring… we’ll see!
5. I’ve loved watching Sky Art’s ‘Portrait Artist of the Year’ and have occasionally followed its ‘Portrait Artist of the Week’ follow-up programme – which provides opportunities to sketch its guest sitter. Maybe I’ll try this more frequently?
HOLIDAYS/LEISURE: 
No holidays at all this year – although we did spend a week on the other side of Bristol (I know!), house- and cat-sitting at Hannah+Fee’s - which was actually very lovely… and a chance to re-visit parts of Bristol we don’t very often get to.
SPIRITUAL LIFE:
We continue to be part of the lovely Community of Saint Stephens, in the heart of the city, and it really does feel like our ‘spiritual home’. A stimulating, reflective community and I love the intimacy and informality of its services and that we can actively contribute to discussions. There are some very special people there and we’re incredibly fortunate to be led by Lee Barnes. This year we’ve been alternating services with our sister church community at Holy Trinity Hotwells and I have to admit to struggling somewhat (the style of service is a little different - less intimate; a little more conventional)… but that’s probably just me. Obviously during the course of 2020, we’ve had to ‘stream’ our services (thank goodness for technology!) – successfully, albeit with a different ‘end product’ (I have to admit that I’ve found streamed church a bit of a ‘turn-off’ personally). My own faith-life journey has felt pretty bleak at times this year (I have lots of ‘wilderness days’!). Seven of us used to ‘meet up’ most Wednesday mornings at 8am at the Society Café on the harbourside (but now via zoom) for “Bloke’s Prayer”… and it’s something which has proved to be hugely rewarding. Regular Tuesday night ‘Resonate’ meetings have also proved interesting. Up until September, I’ve also been ‘chairing’ Saint Stephen’s Re-Ordering Group over the past couple of years – stimulating AND frustrating!

HEALTH:
My health has been pretty good this year… apart from the normal ageing process (although my annual lungs/heart check didn’t actually happen because of the pandemic – I’m due to have another appointment in say March 2021). I’ve been troubled with on-going heel and ankle ulcer issues more or less throughout the year – which are a little debilitating, but manageable. My teeth continue to fall out; my back feels ‘delicate’ most mornings when I first wake (but settles down); my hearing is deteriorating (I have hearing aids, but don’t use them!); I take tablets for my atrial fibrillation; I take eye drops to deter my glaucoma; and I’m pretty sure that my left hip will need replacing over the next year or so!! Strangely (and perhaps significantly?), I feel I’ve become something of an old man this year… but, hey, I feel pretty fit, I’m very active and I continue to walk on a daily basis.
OTHER STUFF:
1. For me, this has been a year of ‘giving up things’… That sounds very negative, I know, but actually it’s felt something of a relief. In September, I stepped down from serving on the PCC of Saint Stephen’s church… and, although I continue to be part of the group of people looking into the practicalities of re-ordering the Grade I Listed Building, I’m no longer chairing it. 

2. I also stepped down from serving as a volunteer with the wonderful B.Friend organisation in May (I’d served my agreed 12 months plus stint… but it also coincided with my own need for self-isolation etc due to Covid-19). Rewarding and humbling work nevertheless.

3. I also ceased volunteering at the YMCA/The Wing (for which I’d done most Thursday evenings for the past couple of years) – helping to prepare food (but mostly washing up!) for some of young people staying there… again, my stepping down coincided with my own limited movements due to Covid-19.

4. We continue to be a no-car household… and use a local car club very occasionally, as we see the ‘need’ (but only three times this year, I think!).

I love reflecting back on the things that have happened over the previous twelve months and, each year, it’s a reminder that there WILL be some very special things that they will happen in the coming year (setting aside pandemics!) – even though, at this moment, I don’t know what the coming year will bring. Clearly, I’m also aware that there will inevitably be some sad stuff too… and perhaps challenges we feel ill-equipped to face. In such times, families and friendships will, once again, see us through.   
For us as a family, it’s been another good year (by and large)… and we continue to count our blessings.
I wish you (and all yours) a very happy, healthy and peaceful 2021… and perhaps a return to some kind of normality would be a huge bonus!
Photo: At Christmas, we usually put together a compilation of photographs of our six grandchildren, taken over the course of the year. This year has obviously been rather different. We haven’t seen Mikey, Dan and Jemima at all during 2020 (other than via zoom)… and our times with Ursa, Rosa and Iris have also been hugely limited. We’ve missed watching them grow, blossom and laugh! xx

december 2020 books…

It turns out that I’ve read 74 books this year… 20 less than last year, strangely. I think the difference is all down to having developed different routines (eg. dawn walking, when I would normally be reading in bed!)?
Love And Other Thought Experiments (Sophie Ward): This is an extraordinary, highly intelligent, thought-provoking, philosophical novel. Despite the fact that I tend to struggle with philosophical concepts, I found this a thoroughly intriguing (and very enjoyable) book, which left me thinking long after I finished it. It reminded me somewhat of the ‘end sequence’ of one of my favourite films, ‘2001 – A Space Odyssey’ (which I’ve watched several times)… which I’ve seen described as a ‘journey into the vortex’. I well remember the first time I saw the 1968 film and wondering what on earth it all meant. The book contains a sequence of interlinked stories (ranging across time and place)… and starts with two characters, Rachel and Eliza, who are planning their future together. One night in bed, Rachel wakes up terrified and tells Eliza that an ant has crawled into her eye and is stuck there… and, so the tale evolves!
Light Of The World (Peter Millar+Neil Paynter): I’ve previously used this book of daily Advent readings (from Iona Community members, published 2009) perhaps three times as part of my ‘preparation’ for Christmas. Despite the fact that I’ve been struggling somewhat on my spiritual journey, I again found the insights both stimulating and helpful - in a year that has brought fresh challenges for our troubled world.
The Wind In The Willows (Kenneth Grahame): Yes, I know it seems a little ridiculous for me – in my seventies - to be reading Grahame’s wonderful children’s story (first published in 1908) once again! Actually, I recently watched an excellent television interview with John Le Carré (with Mark Lawson) in which he mentioned that ‘Wind in the Willows’ was one of his favourite books… and, in these troubled times, I rather thought it would be something of light relief… and so it proved! You’re no doubt well aware of the adventures of Rat, Mole, Badger and Toad… and I enjoyed the celebration of friendship, kindness (making due allowance for Toad) and the beauty of nature (“O my! O my! O my”… as Mole put it). Grahame originally told the stories to his son and was apparently only persuaded to get them published by a friend (I wondered how old his son had been at that time – because the language frequently appears quite sophisticated for a child?)… and, crucially, I still want to know why Toad wasn’t punished for breaking out of prison - he’d been serving a 20 year sentence for stealing a motor-car, reckless driving and ‘cheeking’ the police!? An enjoyable ‘comfort read’.
Bridget Jones’s Diary (Helen Fielding): I re-read this after watching a documentary entitled ‘Being Bridget Jones’ in celebration of the 25^th anniversary of Fielding’s first column in the Independent newspaper. If you haven’t read the book, I feel sure you’ll have seen the film… Yes, it’s now somewhat dated and predictable, BUT it is still very, very funny! Her diary entries variously describe her strategies for finding the man of her dreams/dumping the man she used to dream about; her clothes; her ‘career’; her friends and her family (particularly her mother). Invariably, her daily entries would begin with a string of ‘key’ details: eg. “Saturday 22 July: 9st 3 (why? from where?), alcohol units 7 (Saturday), cigarettes 27 (positively restrained considering), number of correct lottery numbers 0)”… “Friday 28 July: 8st 12, circumference of thighs 18inches (honestly, what is the bloody point), alcohol units 3 (but v. pure sort of wine), cigarettes 7 (but did not inhale), calories 1,500 (good, but wrong things), teas 0, coffees 3 (but made with real coffee beans thus less cellulite-inducing)”… Wonderful light relief from all the ongoing pandemic news and all-things-related-to-Brexit.

brexit (my last words, promise)…

The UK is no longer a member of the EU… and, although I’ve found the whole process hugely depressing and extremely difficult to come to terms with, I now have to accept this and move on.
As you well know, the outcome of the EU Referendum was 51%: 49% in favour of Leave… but it’s interesting to note that, on 22 June 2016, these were MPs’ declared voting intentions ahead of the imminent Referendum: Tories 185 Remain/138 Leave; Labour 218 Remain/10 Leave; SNP 54 Remain/0 Leave; Liberal Democrats 9 Remain/0 Leave.
Depressingly, we call it Democracy.
(It saddens me to think how little the Labour leadership did in the run-up to the Referendum to positively endorse the Remain cause. If only…).
 
And so began the embarrassing four-and-a-half year process of our government painfully trying to work out what an exit ‘deal’ might be. Throughout the process, the EU negotiators seemed to be organised and knowledgeable, while their UK counterparts appeared to struggle to understand their ‘brief’ or their specific objectives.
I found the whole process both embarrassing and depressing… BUT (clutching at straws), I’m hugely relieved that the UK and the EU have at least (and at last) ‘agreed a deal’ (the alternative would have been unthinkable)… or, as Michael Heseltine puts it: “We must welcome the news that Brexit does not end in the chaos of no deal, but only with the sense of relief of a condemned man informed that his execution has been commuted to a life sentence”. 

To my mind, Brexit has been the biggest UK political disaster of my lifetime.
How many of the 51% who voted to leave, still think it was a really wonderful idea?
How many of them had any clue as to how much the process would cost the UK financially (and that’s just up to the end of 2020)?
How many of them have any clue of how the rest of the world now regards the UK?
How many of them knew what on earth they were voting for?
It seems to me to have been all about ‘immigration’… what a narrow-minded, bigoted nation we’ve become.

So, more than 40 years of cooperation for peace and prosperity has been reversed and Britain’s destiny has been re-shaped for a generation. It will be much harder for Britain to sell services to EU countries, where we were once advantaged (Britain will now be outside the world’s largest single market). We will lose the right to freely travel, work and settle in other European countries. Britain will be throwing up new barriers to trade with our closest neighbours. The Institute for Fiscal Studies reckons it will reduce the economy by 2% and add 3.5% inflation.
 
To my mind, AA Gill got it absolutely right in an article he wrote for ‘The Sunday Times’ (12 June 2016) just prior to the Referendum… and his own death:
“We all know what ‘getting our country back’ means. It’s snorting a line of the most pernicious and debilitating Little English drug, nostalgia. The warm, crumbly, honey-coloured, collective ‘yesterday’ with its fond belief that everything was better back then, that Britain (England, really) is a worse place now than it was at some foggy point in the past where we achieved peak Blighty…
“Culture works and grows through the constant warp and weft of creators, producers, consumers, intellectuals and instinctive lovers. You can’t dictate or legislate for it, you can just make a place that encourages it and you can truncate it.
You can make it harder and more grudging, you can put up barriers and you can build walls, but why on earth would you?
This collective culture, this golden civilisation grown on this continent over thousands of years, has made everything we have and everything we are, why would you not want to be part of it”.
Amen to that. 

twenty-twenty/2020 vision?

A time for some reflection… (sorry):
Since the start of the first lockdown, I’ve been keeping a daily diary (just for me). I’ve also written a number of occasional ‘Reflections’ (again, just for me). Frankly, the diary is pretty boring (maybe it’ll improve with age?!), but some of the reflections make interesting reading (for me, at least)… and remind me of my feelings during the course of the past nine months or so.
It would take pages and pages to run through all of these thoughts and emotions (and, even so, I’ve included far more than I originally intended!), but here are just a few extracted snippets (the number of reflections has decreased over recent weeks – maybe just a sense that there was nothing new to say?):
1.  Huge uncertainty. Self-isolation. The need for us to establish routines. Importance of daily walks (18 March).
2.  We’ll cope; we’re very fortunate compared with so many others. Lots of lists. Thankful for doctors, nurses, NHS staff, food stores (including shelf-stackers!), people helping to maintain public utilities etc (19 March).

3.  Some people not taking warnings seriously. People ignoring what’s happening in Europe at this time. “Hopefully, when we emerge from this awful business, people will have changed… they will have a new respect for the simple joys of life, for others, for nature, for kindness, for civility, for generosity of spirit, a more equal society and the like… and that greed, ruthlessness, dishonesty, profit et al… will be things of the past” (22 March).

4.  For Moira and for me, self-isolation is inconvenient but manageable. No, we can’t go to shops, can’t meet up with family and friends, but we’re very fortunate to have a house of our own and to be retired and not needing to work. Lots of instances of great kindness being shown by lots of individuals and, certainly, the vast majority of people are being wonderfully generous and considerate. Of course, one also comes across instances of people behaving abominably and ignoring the isolation rules and meeting up in large groups (26 March).

5.  I find myself trying to recall the last time I hugged each family member… and realising that perhaps THAT would be the last time I was able to do so… and desperately wishing for a chance to hug them all ONE more time (I know)! In such a scenario, I have this rather beautiful vision of being able to use a magic wand to conjure up just a day in each of their individual company (completely unknown to them that this would the last time we’d meet up)… to do silly things; to laugh and joke; to recall particular memories; to walk along a beach together; to enjoy a meal together… and to tell them how much I love them (1 April). 

6.  Is there a heaven? Well, I actually do feel there is… but my heaven is much more the ‘heaven here on earth’ concept. Something about it being here, right now, and that it’s about our collective need to actually look for heaven… it’s here all the time and, perhaps for most of us, we just don’t ‘see it’ – we don’t appreciate all the beauty, creativity and humanity that surrounds us. Fundamentally, I think heaven is about kindness and helping others (5 April).

7.  I’ve noticed that some people have begun to make ‘wish lists’ of things they want to do as soon as the virus crisis comes to an end. It’s been illuminating. I haven’t noticed any of the ‘usual’ bucket list items appearing on people’s agendas (swimming with dolphins and suchlike)… they’re much more focussed on stuff that, in the past, we’ve perhaps taken for granted, such as: hugging family members; meeting up with friends (in a bar/café/restaurant); going to the cinema, theatre etc; visiting a special place you’ve always promised that you’d go to; walking along a beach; walking through a wood or a forest… you get the idea (10 April).

8.  I’ve developed a routine of ‘dawn walking’. Not every day, but perhaps three or four times a week. The only downside is that Moira ‘doesn’t do dawn’(!) and so these early morning walks just involve me… we try to walk together on other days (28 April).

9.  From this weekend, the government has changed the ‘lockdown’ rules. Some schools will re-open on Monday… The government has relaxed these rules despite the fact that some of its own scientific advisors have been warning about the risks of easing the rules too soon. Inevitably, there will be some, like me(!), who fear that many people will now stop taking notice of any government advice (don't get me started about Mr Cummings!). There's already a sense that many of the restrictions are being largely ignored by large numbers of the public (particularly 16-30 year-olds... and especially males it seems). Easing restrictions too soon and risking a second wave of infections would have devastating consequences (30 May). 

10.  Understandably, people are keen to return back to ‘normal’ life... The majority of the population are continuing to take a cautious approach to returning to ‘normality’ and many are indicating that they won’t be rushing back to frequenting pubs, restaurants, cinemas or taking public transport any time soon. The underlying fear, of course, is that people become blasé, fail to take the necessary precautions and a ‘second wave’ of the virus to return… and seeing photographs of crowds of drinkers in London’s Soho last night only underlines such fears… Of course, the wonders of modern technology have been hugely important during ‘lockdown’… one wonders how on earth we’d have all coped without it. But, clearly, the thing that we’ve both missing most is the simple pleasure of hugging our lovely family! (5 July).

11.  Staying alert? Staying confused? Being responsible? The government clearly hasn’t helped itself on any number of occasions. There have been times when ministers have contradicted each other in their own interpretations of policy. As one of my friends observed: “Let’s all be honest, any sense of doctrinal adherence to rules as described on gov.uk is advisory at best since Cummings-gate. It shouldn’t be, but it is”. I have a sense that some people feel that the ‘worst is over’; that we’re beginning to ‘come out on the other side’ (daily death rates have consistently been reducing over recent weeks, afterall); and that we can start relaxing the rules a little (on the other hand, the number of reported cases has escalated since the start of August)…There’s a sense of “we’re responsible people, we won’t take any real chances… but we do want our old lives back now”. The trouble is (but, hey, what do I know?!) that bending the rules is the start of a slippery slope… and, as we all know by now, the virus doesn’t play by ‘normal’ rules, so being ‘careful’ or ‘responsible’ isn’t really enough (24 August).

12.  Somewhat ridiculously, I’ve been keeping track of the daily coronavirus deaths. It obviously makes pretty depressing reading, but it’s also a reminder that at the start of April there were several days when the daily death toll exceeded 900. By the beginning of August, thankfully, these numbers had reduced hugely – often just to single figures. But, over the past few weeks, the number of daily coronavirus cases started to rise rapidly… and so, inevitably, have the number of deaths. Depressingly, fears of a second-wave, as we approach the winter months, has been exacerbated by shortcomings in the government’s testing system. Clearly, for the government (whose focus, perhaps, seems to have been more on protecting the economy than people?), with the prospect of a potential second-wave comes the increasing possibility of a national ‘lockdown’ (21 September).

13.  Mr Johnson made another of his television appearances to confirm that new Covid-19 measures were being introduced (in England) as a result of the recent rapid growth in the number of cases. Interesting to hear reaction of a leading scientist, Prof John Edmunds (head of the faculty of epidemiology and population health at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine) – who didn’t think the measures went anywhere near far enough and feared that, for the second time, the government would end up clamping down too late: “I suspect we will see very stringent measures coming in place throughout the UK at some point, but it will be too late again. We will have let the epidemic double and double and double again until we do take those measures. And then we’ll have the worst of both worlds, because then to slow the epidemic and bring it back down again, all the way down to somewhere close to where it is now or where it was in the summer will mean putting the brakes on the epidemic for a very long time, very hard - which is what we had to do in March because we didn’t react quick enough in March, and so I think that we haven’t learned from our mistake back then and we’re unfortunately about to repeat it” (23 September).

14.  The number of coronavirus cases and deaths have sharply increased over the past month - in fact, the current daily number of cases (some 20,000) is getting on for THREE times higher than the HIGHEST daily figures from March-September (just let that sink in). I really don’t envy ANY government in these challenging times but, thinking back to those early days back in March, when a virtual ‘lockdown’ was imposed on the entire country, people generally backed the restrictions and there was a strong sense of ‘unity in a time of crisis’. Since then, of course, the government has come under an enormous amount of criticism on a long list of matters: its slowness to react; the ill-judged/illegal actions of Dominique Cummings on his trip (or trips?) to Durham; the lack of appropriate equipment; the lack of an adequate regime for testing, tracing and isolating; issuing contracts to ‘friendly’ companies without competition; making up the rules on local lockdowns without consulting regional leaders and health authorities; universities and colleges (students/halls of residences/number of positive cases); all the mixed messages; and now ignoring the advice of its scientific advisors etc etc. You might recall that the prime minister unveiled a plan in July to return England to “normality” by Christmas… and he also indicated that it might “be possible to move away from the social distancing measures” by November. Well, it doesn’t seem to have quite worked out like that… and, of course, Mr Johnson will claim that the reason it hasn’t is all down to US… nothing to do with him! Meanwhile, consensus has disintegrated and there’s distinct sense of “they’re making things up as they go along”… and opinion polls indicate that the public has lost confidence in the government (17 October).

15.  I’m aware that my thoughts and experiences relating to Covid are likely to change over the coming months (in my head, I’m just trying to focus on ‘getting through to March’ – on the basis that this represents a year of living in this ‘lockdown world’)… This from the Guardian (27 October) seemed to sum up the thoughts of many: “Managing a second wave of Covid-19 in winter was always going to be a tougher proposition than imposing a blanket lockdown in March. There is mounting evidence of fatigue, confusion and resentment over localised restrictions. Frustration has been compounded by the sense that the government pays only lip service to the notion that ‘we are all in this together’” (27 October).

16.  Further reflections on Covid-19… One thing I’ve become increasingly aware of over recent days/weeks is a strange sense that we’re having to ‘tread water’ until the pandemic is either over or the vaccine becomes available… I’m also very conscious of missing out on a year of our grandchildren’s lives (at a time when they’re blossoming and developing so quickly) and, at the same time, us getting older (and time running out!?) feels like a double-whammy. With the number of UK cases (and deaths) on a sharp increase, it feels as if a second national lockdown might become inevitable…but when? An immediate 2-3 week ‘firebreak’?  A full national lockdown immediately after Christmas/New Year? (28 October).

17.  So, the first day of ‘Lockdown2’… People are obviously far more prepared than last time… shops are far more organised; people are aware of the social distancing rules; face-masks are everyone’s ‘fashion accessory’. But, for some individuals, there’s also a strong sense of “we’ve had enough of this… we don’t care anymore… and, anyway, the ‘rules’ keep being changed and we can’t keep up”. We always KNEW that, at some stage, the government would end up blaming the population at large for its inability to deal with the pandemic. So it came as absolutely no surprise when today Justice Minister Mr Buckland announced that it was all OUR fault! He remarkably managed to forget all those mixed messages the government had been pumping out for the past several months (‘stay home’/’go back to work’/’back to business’/’act fearlessly’/’world-beating test+trace’/’following the science’/‘turning a blind eye to the science’… and, of course, it was perfectly ok for certain ‘key’ individuals (like Mr Cummings) to ignore the rules. What a huge surprise… the second wave was nothing to do with the government. Professor Devi Sidhar (who, in my opinion, has talked an awful lot of sense over the past six months or so) seemed to sum up the thoughts of several health experts when she declared: “The UK government’s decision to delay a national lockdown in the hope that this would be easier on the economy defies reality: delaying action has led only to a longer, harsher lockdown. It can feel as though, confronted with this paradox and exhausted by the months of work that lie ahead, the governments is close to giving up without a clear plan or strategy for how to survive in a Covid-19 world” (5 November).  

And, of course, the above completely ignores ANY comment about the government’s rules for the Christmas ‘holiday period’ or the latest Tier arrangements…
Roll on the vaccine!!
Happy Happy Christmas and a Healthy New Year! 

november-december 2020 books…

The Thursday Murder Club (Richard Osman): I borrowed Ruth’s copy of this book. I was aware that it had become something of a best-seller but, if I’m honest, I felt a slight resentment that someone who already earned a very decent living as a television celebrity had the audacity to try his hand as a writer (what a horrible person I am!). Well, I have to admit that I absolutely loved it! It’s a crime novel set in an affluent retirement village and, every Thursday, four of the over-60s inmates/amateur sleuths gather to investigate unsolved murder cases that the local police force have failed to solve. Yes, I know it all sounds pretty ridiculous, but it’s beautifully silly and also quite clever… and, although I appreciate that murder is never ‘nice’(!), this is all gently amusing and satisfying – and with rather lovely characters (especially quiet, former nurse Joyce whose diary entries are simply delightful). There’s apparently already another ‘Thursday Murder Club’ book on the way and, no doubt, a whole lot more in due course… and I’ll probably end up reading them all. Excellent, gentle, easy reading.  
Gathered and Scattered (ed Neil Paynter): This is a book of daily readings and meditations from the Iona Community (published 2007) and covers a four-month period (unrelated to festivals etc). I think this must be the fourth time I’ve worked through the book. For me, as I continue to struggle in something of a spiritual wilderness, they provide a source of sustenance. They’re challenging and insightful, but never hectoring or telling me how I ‘ought’ to be thinking. The readings certainly don’t all ‘work’ for me, but they’re the closest I get to feeling ‘connected’. Although there are occasional biblical references, it’s definitely not a ‘Bible Study’ book (thank goodness). The subjects vary, but cover such things as: justice and peace; economic witness; racism; sexuality; healing; social action; the poor and disadvantaged; spirituality… In short, it reminds of my time spent with the Iona Community – sitting in the Abbey at the start of each day.
The Road To Little Dribbling (Bill Bryson): As you’re probably aware, I love Bryson’s writing. This book was his ‘follow up’ to his wonderful “Notes From A Small Island” (published in 2015, at his publishers’ suggestion, twenty years on)(just before Brexit – which, like me, he regards as a “kind of madness”). In some ways, Bryson and I have grown old together (ok, he’s actually younger than me, but…); we love similar things and we hate similar things; and he uses the word “splendid” very frequently. Needless to say, I loved this book and would happily quote whole chunks from it… but, instead, I’ll confine myself to just two. Bryson would like a government in charge that said “We’re going to stop this preposterous obsession with economic growth at the cost of all else. Great economic success doesn’t produce national happiness. It produces Republicans and Switzerland. So we’re going to stop trying to be a powerhouse and instead concentrate on just being lovely and pleasant and civilised. We’re going to have the best schools and hospitals, the most comfortable public transport, the liveliest arts, the most useful and well-stocked libraries, the grandest parks, the cleanest streets, the most enlightened social policies…”. Other new Bryson legislation would include: “male jewellery tax, stupid ponytail tax, carrying an open umbrella even though it’s stopped raining tax, texting while walking tax, earphone music leakage tax, walking much too slowly in crowded places tax, tattoos on knuckles tax, dribbled paint on the pavement tax, answering a question by saying ‘how long is a piece of string?’ tax, having an irritatingly small dog tax, and vending machines that don’t give change tax…”. As I say, I love Bryson!
Rebecca (Daphne Du Maurier): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s latest selection (theme: ‘gothic’), first published in 1938. I’ve seen the Hitchcock 1940 film version and I THINK I first read the book some 40 years ago (I vaguely recall reading a few Du Maurier novels at that time, including “Frenchman’s Creek” and “Jamaica Inn”) and the novel’s hauntingly memorable first line: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again”. Manderley is the name of a grand house on the Cornish coast, owned by the wealthy Maxim de Winter – whose first wife Rebecca died in a boating accident about a year before he went on to meet and marry a naïve young woman after a whirlwind romance in the south of France. The young woman (we never learn her name – people simply refer to her as Mrs de Winter) is the narrator of this tale. You’re probably very familiar with the plot so I won’t elaborate beyond: beautiful, popular, confident Rebecca… adored by everyone, not the least by her devoted, sinister housekeeper Mrs Danvers… the shy, out-of-her-depth second Mrs de Winter is constantly being compared to her predecessor and feels totally inadequate. Well, I absolutely loved this book - a world of privilege and servants; about lifestyles and expectations; about duty and society – wonderfully written/narrated, unnerving and utterly compelling.
Dandelion Wine (Ray Bradbury): Published 1957. Part novel/part memoir set in the backwaters of Illinois in 1928 and revolving around the life of a 12 year-old boy, named Douglas Spaulding. Magical, evocative recollections of a timeless summer… simple pleasures; Grandma’s ‘belly-busting dinners’; imagining machines for every purpose from time travel to happiness; new discoveries and new possibilities... summers that seemed to go on forever (oh, and grandfather’s intoxicating brew from harvested dandelions – with each bottle marked with the day it was made). A wonderful haunting mixture of imagination and memories, based on Bradbury’s own experiences growing up in 1920s. Rather lovely.

october-november 2020 books…

Hot Water (PG Wodehouse): Another ‘escapist’ read in these strange times! Published in 1932, the plot is utterly preposterous (and ridiculously complicated) but, coming from Wodehouse, is also hugely entertaining. The plot involves a house party in a rented Brittany château with an odd array of American guests… and where the rich hostess is intent on trying to persuade an American Senator to recommend her (distinctly reluctant) husband for the position of American Ambassador to France. Other guests include “Soup” Slattery (a safe-blower) and “Oily” Carlisle (a confidence trickster). Needless to say, not everything goes to plan… Despite my reservations about the bizarre storyline, Wodehouse’s brilliant dialogue and descriptions are simply wonderful and hugely entertaining.
Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury): This is our next StorySmith bookgroup’s book (Science Fiction theme) and, for me, a long-overdue chance to read my first Bradbury book. First published in 1954, and set perhaps in the 1990s (there’s a reference to V-2 rocket films of “fifty years ago”), it’s a terrifying prophetic novel of a post-literate future. The main character, Guy Montag, is a fireman who burns books in a futuristic American city (Fahrenheit 451 is the temperature at which book-paper catches fire and burns). In Montag’s world, firemen start fires rather than putting them out. The people in this society do not read books, enjoy nature, spend time by themselves, think independently, or have meaningful conversations. Instead, they drive very fast, watch excessive amounts of television on wall-size sets, and listen to the radio on ‘Seashell Radio’ sets attached to their ears. I found it utterly compelling… something of cross between “Animal Farm”, “1984”, “The Handmaid’s Tale” and even our daughter Alice’s book “Ink”. Scarily sobering in its anticipation/prediction of TV walls and the ability to communicate via ear pieces, its two major themes are resistance to conformity and control of individuals via technology and mass media. Hugely thought-provoking… and quite, quite brilliant. Why on earth hadn’t I read this wonderful book before now?
A Good Enough Mother (Bev Thomas): The novel’s central character is the director of a highly respected trauma unit… she’s confident, capable and very good at her job but, as a mother of twins (in their late teenage years), there have been times when she’d struggled, was over-anxious and even overbearing. Her marriage had broken up; her son had mysteriously disappeared (and was perhaps dead?); her relationship with her daughter wasn’t brilliant (and she was on a gap-year in Australia)… It’s an intelligent story on the dilemmas of the therapist-client relationship and good parenting (the author was a clinical psychologist in the NHS for many years). At times, I found it extremely unsettling; at times, it felt like reading a tense thriller (a real page-turner). I don’t want to give away the plot, so I’ll stop here (but I do admit to enjoying the various references to ‘Into The Wild’ book/film!). I struggled somewhat at the start of the novel, but gradually ‘got into it’… and ended up REALLY enjoying the book. A gripping story.
Fifty Fifty (Steve Cavanagh): I bought this book after seeing it reviewed on TV’s ‘Between the Covers’. Irish-born Cavanagh used to be a lawyer (he now says he studied law “by mistake”!); he’s now the international award-winning author of a number of ‘Eddie Flynn’ novels (Flynn is an American con-artist who became a lawyer). It’s the story of two sisters who are on trial for the murder of their father. Both accuse each other. Who is innocent? Who is guilty? Well, I REALLY enjoyed this book (I absolutely ‘consumed’ it in one and a half days); it’s a real page-turner of a thriller… very well written, well-researched, intelligent and clever. I’ll say no more, except that it was the perfect escapist novel in these strange and difficult times… and that I clearly need to read more Eddie Flynn novels (I think there are another five)!
A Walk In The Woods (Bill Bryson): I just love Bryson’s books… and, at a time when we all need a bit of ‘feel good re-assurance’, this didn’t disappoint (understatement). Unsurprisingly, I really REALLY enjoyed it… it made me laugh out loud SEVERAL times! Published in 1997, it’s the tale of his adventures, aged 44 (as he then was), in tackling the world’s longest continuous footpath, the Appalachian Trail – from Georgia to Maine on the USA’s east coast… tottering under his 40lb plus backpack. The entire trail is some 2,200 miles (ok, he doesn’t walk its entire length… but hey!) of remote mountain wilderness (filled with bears, rattlesnakes, poisonous plants, disease-bearing ticks and the occasional murder – not to mention the severe weather). At first, I was disappointed when I learnt that he was undertaking the walk with an old friend, Katz, who had apparently put on ‘some’ extra pounds since their somewhat fraught travels around Europe 25 years earlier, when they’d ended up “despising each other” – as Bryson’s wife put it! I really didn’t want someone else disrupting Bryson’s ‘lyrical flow’… but, actually, their hilarious exchanges proved fundamental to the book’s enjoyment. Bryson saw it all as a supreme adventure; Katz was far more focussed on surviving their various camp experiences and getting to a motel to watch ‘The X-Files’! Katz always lagged well behind on their walks… he was guilty of throwing out, clothes, equipment and food (not to mention his spare water bottle) in an effort to make his backpack lighter. Together (in the words of the blurb on the book’s cover), they “gamely struggled through the wilds to achieve a lifetime’s ambition – not to die outdoors”. Quite brilliant. I highly recommend it.

september-october 2020 books…

The Wild Silence (Raynor Winn): I read (and hugely enjoyed) Winn’s debut book ‘The Salt Path’… about her walking several hundred miles round England’s South West Coast Path with her husband, Moth - sleeping wild and virtually penniless after their home was lost to bailiffs (and, even worse, her husband had been diagnosed with corticobasal degeneration, an incurable brain disease). ‘The Wild Silence’ tells the story of how, despite never having written anything previously, she had decided to write the first book as a gift for Moth, a record of their (and particularly his) endurance and, following encouragement from their daughter, an enthusiastic publisher was found. ‘The Salt Path’ ended up catching the eye of Sam - a City trader with a dilapidated, neglected farm beside a creek in Cornwall - and he offered Winn and Moth a free tenancy in return for reviving the wildlife on the farm. Their relocation here, once again in search of natural healing and ‘proper’ home, is the premise of ‘The Wild Silence’.
At the start of the book, they were living in a small rented converted chapel and, without any physical connection to the land, Moth’s health was deteriorating quickly. Moving to the farm was a huge risk and involved massive amounts of work… but, between them, they rediscover a connection with nature. On the strength of the first book’s success, they decide to undertake another walk – this time to Iceland (something that seemed ridiculously onerous as far as Moth’s health was concerned). I have to say I found this section of the book something of distraction and longed for them to return to ‘life on farm’, but hey ho! Having said that, I did really enjoy the book – Winn is a very talented writer – and I found it wonderfully hopeful and encouraging… and also frequently quite moving.  
Summerwater (Sarah Moss): I think this is the fifth Sarah Moss novel I’ve read. The setting is a group of wooden holiday cabins located beside a Scottish loch. The ‘action’ all takes place on a single day… each chapter focuses on one of the individuals occupying one of the cabins. There are no phone signals and, of course, it’s pouring with rain. Everyone is hiding something, it seems… and they each have opinions (accurate or wildly inaccurate) on their fellow holiday-makers. It’s a tense, unsettling novel (I’ve even read a review that described it as “somewhat pandemic”)… and the first chapter essentially infers that it’s not going to end well… which only adds to the tension. It’s beautifully observed and full of political and climate change references. In some ways, it reminded me of Max Porter’s “Lammy” (one of my favourite books). Very impressive.    
Wise Children (Angela Carter): This is our next StorySmith bookgroup book. I’ve watched Emma Rice’s brilliant stage adaptation twice, but never read Carter’s 1991 book – until now. The novel follows the fortunes of twin chorus girls, Dora and Nora Chance and their bizarre theatrical family. Dora is the book’s narrator and she recounts her family history – a mix of ambition, greed and revenge; fathers and daughters; brothers and sisters; twins, mistaken identity, incest and adultery; family and forgiveness; love and loss; failure and success… but, essentially, about life and living. It’s wise, bawdy, vulgar, eloquent, life-affirming, very, very funny… and wonderfully written. It’s not a long book (230 pages or so) but, for some reason, it took me longer to read than I would have anticipated – perhaps this had something to do with trying to keep abreast of the wide array of characters and their complex, interconnected lives. Carter died at the tragically young age of 51 (she wrote the play after she knew she’d been diagnosed with lung cancer). Our bookgroup’s selection theme for this month was to come up with a book that would essentially make us smile (and take our minds off Covid-19, Brexit et al). Well, it certainly did that… quite a brilliant book.
The P-P-Penguin (Patrick Campbell): I first read this book nearly 50 years ago. My dog-eared copy was already second-hand when I bought it (first published in 1965) and I knew before I started re-reading it that it would something of a challenge to do so before it actually fell apart… but I persisted! If you’re old enough(!), you might recall that Campbell was a panellist on TV’s “Call My Bluff” show… and very funny he was on it too. This book is a collection of various newspaper articles/anecdotes he’d written over the years and I was surprised to discover that time seemed to have made them less amusing than I had remembered them (but tastes and fashions obviously change). While some of the collection DID make me laugh out loud, some just seemed rather dated and somewhat obscure. Having recently read books by both Alan Coren and Campbell, I think that, for me, Coren wins ‘hands down’.
Under The Frog (Tibor Fischer): This is my Bloke’s Books bookgroup’s latest book. The novel follows the adventures of two young Hungarian basketball players through the turbulent years between the end of WW2 and the revolution of 1956 (and influenced, no doubt, by the author’s parents’ accounts of their own experiences). The book’s cover includes the following description: “In this spirited indictment of totalitarianism, the two improbable heroes, Pataki and Gyuri, travel the length and breadth of Hungary in an epic quest for food, lodging, and female companionship”.  It parodies the trumpeting of the ‘gains of socialism’ by the regime, which the author seems to suggest as being empty rhetoric – that all but the dimmest were able to see through even from the beginning. It was shortlisted for the 1993 Booker Prize, so I knew it was likely to be an impressive book… and yet, although impressively-written and full of bizarre humour (and poignancy), I was actually rather disappointed by it. I found the first 100 pages utterly tedious (yes, that’s probably just me!) and, although I ‘got into’ the book about half-way through (and found the final chapters quite impressive and powerful), I was somewhat relieved when I’d finished the book. It took me a full fortnight to read (very unusual for me). According to Wikipedia, ‘Under the Frog’ is taken from a Hungarian expression used to describe any situation when things can't seem to get any worse: "under a frog's arse, down a coalmine"… which doesn’t QUITE sum up my thoughts about the book, but I don’t think I’ll be re-reading it any time soon.

six months in and still counting…

It’s exactly six calendar since Moira and I self-isolated/shielded (I’m one of those people classified as “clinically extremely vulnerable”!). We’ve taken the coronavirus precautions very seriously and decided from the outset that we would avoid shopping, public transport and, to a large extent, people! We decided to try to walk every day (for both our physical fitness and our mental health – but, still, as far as possible, avoiding people). Even after the shielding rules were relaxed at the start of August, we’ve effectively kept to the same disciplines.
The past six months have been a strange and challenging time for all of us… and, of course, thousands have died or have been massively affected by the virus. In such circumstances, Moira and I regard ourselves as being incredibly fortunate. Schools, shops, restaurants, theatres, sport and jobs have all been hugely disrupted. Yes, it’s been frustrating not to be able to hug our children and grandchildren or to meet freely with our friends… and, yes, for us, it’s also meant being restricted to venturing out only within walking distance from our front door. 
But we’ve all also learnt to adapt. Where it’s been possible, people have worked from home; technology (eg. zoom) has been crucial; people have discovered different ways of doing things…
Who would want to be a government in such difficult circumstances?
Whatever one’s political views, I think there’s common agreement that the UK government performance through it all has been abject. It has been guilty of a whole string of fundamental errors and poor decision-making – all with massively serious repercussions. For example: on 24 January, Health Secretary Mr Hancock dismissed the coronavirus threat to the UK public as ‘low’; PM Mr Johnson missed five vital Cobra meetings (it wasn’t until 2 March that he attended his first virus meeting)… and by then it was almost certainly too late. The Times published an article on 18 April lambasting the government (and in particular Mr Johnson) for its/his failures and what it described as the “five lost weeks”… and the “thousands of unnecessary deaths”, in its estimation, this had caused. Mr Johnson’s spokesman played down the looming threat from the east and reassured the nation that we were “well prepared for any new diseases”. 
Contrary to the official line, scientists, academics, doctors, emergency planners and public officials acknowledged that Britain was in a poor state of readiness for a pandemic. Emergency stockpiles of PPE had severely dwindled and gone out of date after becoming a low priority in the years of austerity cuts. The training to prepare key workers for a pandemic had been put on hold for two years while contingency planning was diverted to deal with a possible no-deal Brexit.
At the beginning of April (I can’t be absolutely sure of the date), I recall watching an interview with a scientist from South Korea (the country had been hit by the virus some weeks earlier and had been relatively successful in containing its spread). She had been asked what advice she would give to European countries now faced with having to deal with the virus. Her reply was unequivocal and brief: effective testing and tracing was absolutely CRUCIAL.
Oh the irony!
So, here in the UK, six months on from when the country first went into ‘lockdown’ in mid-March, we are STILL struggling to provide an effective and reliable ‘test and trace’ system (despite the initial ridiculous claims about the UK having a world-beating system!). Even at airports (most airports around the world had introduced temperature tests for arrivals), the UK lacked action and authority… not to mention an effective policy. A study by Southampton University, for instance, showed that 190,000 people flew into the UK from Wuhan and other high-risk Chinese cities between January and March. The researchers estimated that up to 1,900 of these passengers would have been infected with the coronavirus — almost guaranteeing the UK would become a centre of the subsequent pandemic.
Six months on from the initial ‘lockdown’ in March, it seems as though the government has lurched from one crisis to another… mixed message after mixed message; lack of leadership; lies; Dominic Cummings; lack of trust; Care Home testing fiasco; handing out £1billion government contracts (to ‘friends’?) without tender; abolishing Public Health England;
… and, of course, not forgetting Climate Change; Brexit; proroguing parliament; introducing a Bill that would break international law; the Good Friday Agreement; Russian interference in the election; Grenfell Tower inquiry; refugees etc etc.
 
Back in April, I wrote this on my blog:
I desperately hope that we come out of it all determined to make the world a better place.
I desperately hope that we remember the people and the jobs that make our day-to-day lives worth living.
I desperately hope that we truly decide to care for our planet.
I desperately hope that we can move away from the old world of greed and power, of the haves and the have-nots. My fear is that some will have very short memories and revert back (if ever they budged) to lives governed by wealth and influence.
I desperately hope that such individuals and corporations are overwhelmed by the voices of those who know there’s a better way.
Sadly, it’s still not over…
The trouble is that none of us has been through this before. When we first went into ‘lockdown’, the government advised ‘extremely vulnerable’ people like me that we would need to self-isolate for 12 weeks (ie. until mid-June). In the event, this was subsequently extended by a further 7 weeks to the beginning of August. Although the number of weekly deaths in the UK currently seems to have ‘levelled out’ at between 50-100 (large numbers, but nothing compared with the April figures of 4,000-5,000/week), the number of confirmed cases has recently started to increase again – to over 4,000/week. The total ‘official’ number of UK coronavirus deaths is currently shown as approaching 42,000 (although UK statistics agencies claim it’s nearly 58,000).
So we continue to live with huge uncertainties… the worry, with Winter approaching, is that there will be a ‘second wave’ – which, given the more severe weather, would likely result in many more deaths. Sadly, a Winter ‘lockdown’ would almost certainly also have a severe effect on mental health issues.
The UK economy, inevitably, would continue to struggle in such circumstances (the government has already come under criticism of encouraging people back to work – with a resulting boast to the economy – despite the distinct likelihood of a subsequent increase in coronavirus cases).
 
So, to all intents and purposes, we all have to live from week to week… which obviously makes ‘planning’ uncertain and fraught with difficulties. Again, from my April blog post, I wrote:
We’ve learnt so much from this awful coronavirus experience.
Let’s use what we’ve learnt to make the world a better place.
I sincerely hope that this will be the case but, as things stand, I sense that many people are just desperate to ‘get back to normal’ and, indeed, that some have not only abandoned any aspirations that might have had to ‘make the world a better place’, and are prepared to ignore guidelines and rules in pursuit of their own selfish desires.
I very much hope that I’m wrong.
I watched David Attenborough’s “Extinction: The Facts” a couple of days ago on iPlayer and it underlined, for me, that so many of the issues facing the world today – like Climate Change and Pandemics – are interconnected. Our individual lifestyles; what we eat; our carbon footprints etc etc (eg. a UN report identified the key drivers of biodiversity loss, including overfishing, climate change and pollution. But the single biggest driver of biodiversity loss is the destruction of natural habitats).
Disease ecologists believe that if we continue on this pathway, this year’s pandemic will not be a one-off event… and, as Attenborough also pointed out: “This year, we have been shown we have gone one step too far. Scientists have linked our destructive relationship with nature to the emergence of Covid-19”.
PS: Two of the things I’ve done during lockdown are: a) keep a daily diary (which, on re-reading, seems merely boring and repetitive – but, perhaps, it might ‘improve with age’ as a memory-jogger(?) and b) a book of photographs and sketches (see image).

august-september 2020 books…

The Last Days Of The Bus Club (Chris Stewart): This is the fourth book of Stewart’s I’ve read - of his life since buying a remote, hillside peasant farm (“on the wrong side of the river”) in Andalucia 20 year something years ago - so you won’t be surprised to hear that I rather like them! Trying to scrape a living during this period has clearly been fraught with difficulties. In order to get by, they’ve found themselves resorting various schemes and mini-enterprises (including sheep-shearing and, of course, writing) and his books essentially provide an account of their ongoing journey. Rather like the “A Year In Provence” book that I’ve recently re-read, it’s the various local characters who provide a wealth of the book’s charm. The “Bus Club” from the title relates to this final year of their daughter’s schooling, when Stewart and two of his Spanish neighbours used to gather together to meet the school bus… and generally ‘put the world to right’ (as you do!). It’s a very special, hopeful account about living simply - a funny, endearing, observant appreciation of life. My perfect lockdown book.

The Princess Bride (William Goldman): This is our next StorySmith bookgroup book (we decided on something of a ‘humorous theme’). To be honest, I hadn’t really come across Goldman before; I hadn’t appreciated, for example, that he was the screenwriter for the ‘Butch Cassidy’ film (I also hadn’t seen the 1987 ‘Princess Bride’ film). He died in 2018, aged 87. The book can probably be described as an action-packed fairy tale (with romance and revenge thrown into the mix). As a boy, William Goldman claims (but remember, this is fiction!), he loved to hear his father read the S. Morgenstern ‘classic’ (pure invention, of course), The Princess Bride. But as a grown-up he ‘discovered’ that the boring parts were left out of his Dad's recitation, and only the ‘good parts’ reached his ears… so here Goldman ‘reconstructs’ the book as a ‘good parts version’ along similar lines. I won’t even begin to try and summarise the plot… I’ll just acknowledge that, yes, it’s fast-moving, clever and full of intrigue, humour, love and revenge and an enjoyable, easy read (definitely a welcome change from pandemics and governmental incompetence!). However, I certainly didn’t love the book (unlike the numerous Goodread reviewers I’ve just noted online!). Goldman was much too full of himself for my liking and ended up finding his mocking asides/explanations/observations increasingly irritating! As ever, it’ll be interesting to discover what the rest of the bookgroup think.
All The Light We Cannot See (Anthony Doerr): I thought this was a wonderful, remarkable novel. It’s set in Germany and France before and during the German occupation of France. Marie-Laure is a little blind, motherless, French girl. She is six years old when the novel begins in Paris in 1934, where she lives with her father, a locksmith and keeper of the keys at the Natural History Museum. Werner Pfennig is an orphan in a German mining town, near Essen. He is a tiny boy of seven with a gift for science (and a fascination for radios in particular). Marie-Laure's father is also the creator of ingenious puzzles and delightful miniatures – of the streets and houses of Paris, for instance. The miniatures teach Marie-Laure, using her fingers as eyes, how to navigate the city. Ultimately she survives the destruction and desolation of the Occupation through the books she can read in braille. Werner's talent brings him to the attention of the Nazis, and he is sent to a national school that trains an elite group of Hitler Youth for the Third Reich. Marie-Laure and her father escape Paris in 1940, and take refuge in Saint‑Malo. Werner's genius is put to work tracking radio transmissions across Russia and Central Europe, until he is sent to Saint-Malo, where Marie‑Laure's great‑uncle uses his radio transmitter on behalf of the Resistance. Their paths ultimately collide… but I’ll avoid spoilers, so will leave it there! It’s a book about the morality and brutality of war; about coming-of-age; about endurance and the human spirit. It’s hauntingly beautiful and, once I’d got into it, I just couldn’t put it down. Wonderfully-written. Remarkable.

Ancestral Vices (Tom Sharpe): I first read this nearly 40 years ago. I used it as another ‘easy-reading-during-difficult-times’ book… on the basis that Sharpe always used to make me smile. Actually, unlike the ‘The Wilt Alternative’ book I re-read back in May, I found this one a little tired and predictable (yes, very funny in places… but also, for me, just too ridiculous and excessive). It felt a bit like a cross between “Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em”, “Fawlty Towers” and Miss Marple!! The words on the book jacket summarise matters: “left-wing academics, right-wing capitalists, true blue country gentry, workers, peasants, police and lawyers”. Entertaining, but also excruciatingly farcical (in a bad way). I don’t think I’ll be re-reading any of my other Tom Sharpe books in a hurry.

The Sacred Art Of Stealing (Christopher Brookmyre): I read ‘Ugly One Morning’ (another of Brookmyre’s books) quite recently and, at the time, had commented that I hadn’t altogether been convinced by the plot – which I thought it was a ‘little contrived’. As a result, one of my friends suggested that I should ‘give this one a go’… and so I did… and it was well worth it! So, this is a novel about Dadaist bank robbers and choreographed dancing gunmen in Glasgow’s Buchanan Street (I kid you not!) and a female detective who, in the words of one reviewer, is a ‘connoisseur of crooks’. It took me a little time to get into the book (60 pages of the 400 plus) but, once in, I couldn’t put it down. The plot is intriguing, ridiculous and yet utterly convincing. Very clever, humorous, biting social satire and irreverent. I loved it.

july-august 2020 books…

Girl, Woman, Other (Bernardine Evaristo): Wow! I thought this was a simply stunning book. Wonderfully written, conceived and delivered, the novel follows 12 characters (most of them black British women) through their lives spanning an array of different decades. Each character has a chapter and, in these chapters, their lives overlap. Their backgrounds and experiences are all very different. There is much joy and celebration, but also sadness and struggle. Many of the characters are close – friends, relatives or lovers (I sometimes had to keep referring back to remind myself of the various relationships/links!). Having read a number of books recently on the question of race and colour, this novel only served to underline such issues… while also addressing a wide range of others (feminism, sexual-orientation; politics; class; prejudice; immigration; family etc etc). I’m a little in awe of Evaristo! It’s probably the best book I’m likely to read this year. Hugely readable, clever, entertaining, informative, funny and thought-provoking. Quite, quite brilliant.

This Is The Day (ed Neil Paynter): I first read this book of daily readings and meditations from the Iona Community in 2005 (published in 2003) and turned to it again at the start of lockdown (it covers a 4 month period). As someone who continues to struggle in my spiritual wilderness (which has been ongoing for a fair amount of time), I again found it a useful crutch… particularly the contributions from Kathy Galloway (who I was fortunate to have met during my two months on the island in 2012). The daily readings provided helpful reflections at the start of each day.  

Quite Ugly One Morning (Christopher Brookmyre): An entertaining crime thriller featuring a somewhat eccentric investigative journalist (and cat burglar!), who is happy to ‘bend the rules’ to get to the truth. Starts off with the gruesome murder of a doctor, before delving into matters relating to NHS Trusts (I’ll stop there… *no spoilers*). It’s quite amusing, gory and, frankly, pretty absurd in places. Although I found it an enjoyable read (despite the blood and mess), I wasn’t altogether convinced by the plot and frequently felt that it was a little too contrived.

A Year In Provence (Peter Mayle): I first read this book nearly 20 years ago… and felt that ‘lockdown’ was a suitable time to re-read it. Clearly, Provence is a beautiful place and the Mayle’s adventures in setting up home there are amusing, gentle and frequently very funny… but, while the descriptions of the region are evocative, the descriptions of the local characters are what make the book so delightful. The Mayles made various trips to local village restaurants to eat amazing artisan dishes and consume the odd bottle or two… and I frequently found myself wondering how they managed to drive themselves home after consuming copious qualities of the local vino. Interestingly, in the preface to my paperback edition, Mayle describes his mixed feelings about the effects that the book had had on their lives… wonderful to receive letters from readers etc but “sometimes less wonderful to find the reader on the doorstep, book in hand and tongue hanging out for a glass or two…”. It was also sad to note (from Wikipedia) that the Mayles relocated to Long Island, New York, to get away from fans and sightseers at his home in Provence (although he subsequently returned to France). He died in 2018, aged 78. I very much enjoyed reading it again.

My Name Is Why (Lemn Sissay): I bought this memoir after watching an ‘Imagine’ programme on television. Sissay is an award-winning writer, broadcaster and poet (he received an MBE for services to literature in 2019). At the age of 5 months, the “Authorities” placed him in the hands of “incapable foster parents” and then moved him from institution to institution until he was 18 years old. He describes the ordeal as “imprisonment”. This memoir is a harrowing account of his struggles of those early years and his 30 year campaign to obtain his records from the Local Authority. He suffered years of discrimination and prejudice due to his colour and, although he came across some ‘good people’ (like his social worker, the child psychologist and, finally, a woman from the National Association of Young People in Care), there was also a very long list of people who were cruel, dismissive, uncaring and abusive. Towards the end of the book, Sissay includes poignant, heart-breaking responses from other ‘inmates’ to a blog post he wrote in 2013 – who clearly had received similar life-damaging treatment in similar ‘institutions’. It’s a painful, powerful memoir which pulls no punches (it reproduces extracts from his records)… and provides a shameful reflection on how society treats some of its less fortunate members.