Yesterday's family meal was special. My sniffles are, at last, on the wane, this cold or infection so long and annoying. I am starting to feel well, and so pleased at this. This seemingly eternal infection at a time when the news is full of nothing but infections. Perhaps this was a virus, but very unlikely to be COVID-19; I had sniffles since mind February, but no cough, no headache and barely a sneeze for the last three long weeks.
Going out like this is strange. People notably gaze at me as they might a leper, if I so much appear to sniff too strongly. There is a definite feeling fear in the streets. I had a delivery yesterday and the deliverer was flighly and handed my parcel at a notably unusual arm's length.
I'm still anxious about the Coronavirus situation, but less afraid, more accepting. I hardly slept, although I've probably only slept through the night once in the past four months anyway. I feel that our government is doing the right thing, and that I understand their strategy, but this government is really poor at communication, to the extent that this itself creates panic and anxiety. Morale is so very important at moments of crisis; this is called leadership. It can be the most important part of leadership; being first at scenes of crisis, being there to reassure, to inspire, lead by example, etc. Boris Johnson done none of this. He is evasive, appears untrustworthy and is generally completely absent. If hie is doing anything, he doesn't even want to take any credit for it, apparently, which itself it remarkable for an autocratic style of leader.
Boris Johnson seems to be evasive and secretive by nature; he hasn't released the so-called 'Russia Report', or said why. He hasn't discussed, consulted or publicly disclosed any aspect of our position in the Brexit negotiations. He won't even reveal how many children he has (or how many mistresses, one would hope that a French leader would be proud of such disclosures, but I suppose times have changed even there), and he is an egregious orator, the very opposite of someone like Winston Churchill or Barack Obama.
In the night, the prime minister's words that we should 'many of us should expect to lose loved ones' kept repeating, and I realised that this consciously unacknowledged phrase was probably the cause of my anxiety. I became angry at the stupidity of the words, it seems to be the worst political speech or aphorism in history. This is no 'We shall fight on the beaches', no 'I have a dream', no 'Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country'. Even Jones from Dad's Army's 'Don't Panic!', or Fraser's 'We're Doomed' is better than 'many of your loved ones will die'. Even Darth Sidious from Star Wars, pantomime embodiment of pure evil, with 'Wipe them out. All of them.' had a more positive and inspiring message to deliver than 'many of your loved ones will die'!
I'm determined to get over my focus on Coronavirus, but this is not easy, and might be impossible to escape this year. I now, more reasonably perhaps, expect that things won't return to normal until 2024, simply because that date has rung in my mind as a good one for some years.
In the morning I found and printed a leaflet for my parents of advice on how to stay safe; generally social distancing and washing hands. Older people not on the internet might not be informed at all about these basics. I found it difficult to find any printable information, so found a leaflet by the European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control and changed it in Photoshop to make it easier to print.
I went for a brisk walk, eager to feel healthy, and ready to remake plans. Then heard the news that the government are planning to confine all people over 70 in their homes for 4 months. My mother is 69, my father is 71. My mother, though a lifelong smoker, is very fit and cycles or walks at least 5 miles each day and performs many physical and mental exercises. My father is lazy and unfit with a heart condition, and would ignore any advice about hand washing or anything else, even if hi life did literally depend on it; so he is at high risk. I am pleased that he will be kept safe because I can see that his habits are dangerous.
I expect I will have to look after them to some degree now, for the next few months.
In art I will try to get some done, of some sort, some how, some when. Burn of God is released on Friday. I have delayed the official launch of The Burning Circus book until the end of the year. My short story book is ready for proofing and I have the room plans for Nantwich Museum. I have, or had, so many other plans, but these are now on hold. All performances are cancelled, apart from possibly Knutsford Music Festival in June as this is an important one, but this may be cancelled too.
Where were you when Elvis died? ...on nine-eleven? ...in twenty-twenty? We here, we many, will remember this year forever.
