Christmas 2020 style

 Christmas 2020 style.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

For 2020 it was the best it could have been. 

Tier 4 came into force , as predicted, for Sussex, beginning on Boxing Day. Our Christmas Day was saved.  left as the last bastion of life as we knew it. 

For me this was a joyous reprieve. I only had this one day . I had already lost my Boxing Day plans when London s Christmas was summarily cancelled,  confining my youngest son to his home. But for hundreds of others, family plans crumbled into dust.   

I had the best Christmas possible and I know how lucky I was. 

My wonderful daughter is in our "bubble" and was with us throughout. Christmas day was bathed in sunshine, truly glorious in every possible way. The three of us joined my eldest son, his wife and two daughters for this cherished family time. A beautiful day to cherish forever.

For a few very, very special hours life was "normal". Presents were opened, food was consumed in vast quantities, and, best of all, hugs were plentiful and so very, very precious.

Then, nothing. Only the memories. My daughter and my husband keep me occupied. We walk, we talk, we enjoy each others company whilst they have time away from work. We appreciate how lucky we are to be healthy and live surrounded by stunning countryside. 

There has been a trade deal of sorts cobbled together with the EU. Could be worst, the threat of no deal was looming too close for comfort. The Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine has been approved. Although only 62% effective it is easy to store, easy to administer and based on existing science. 

Glimmers of light at a time when Covid surrounds us like a dark fog. Today the total death count is 981. Yesterday the UK recorded over 53,000 new cases, more than all of the European countries added together. How have this Government got this so wrong. 

Hospitals are straining at the seams but our new Nightingale hospitals stand empty through lack of staff. People are dying in ambulances waiting to be treated. Terrifying. Am I scared? Yes. 

Tomorrow is the last day of 2020. It has been the worst year of my life. I dare not hope for 2021 beyond that I and those I love stay healthy. Please let us stay well, that is all that matters. 

To be continued:

Coronavirus Diaries Part 2 2021

U turn central

 U Turn Central

Whatever next turns out to be yet another U turn by the master of U turns, Boris Johnson, who dashed our Christmas plans only days after saying to cancel Christmas would be 'inhuman'.

Household mixing indoors is allowed for one day only, Christmas Day, no over night stays. Unless...in London and much of the South and East, when much of tier 3 becomes tier 4, stringent lockdown as per November and with Christmas effectively cancelled. Limited to your own household only. 

This sudden dramatic cull of Christmas relaxations is officially due to the fast spread of a mutant Covid variant. Immediate cynicism following this announcement on Sat Dec 19th was that this variant was a red herring. "Finish your Christmas shopping, fill up the economy coffers , then shut yourselves away please as we've left too much leeway giving you 5 days off over Xmas" was the media (and my) view on this particular U turn. 

However, since the introduction of these updated rules on Sunday Dec 20th it is become obvious that infection rates are soaring across the country. Even the most cynical , such as me, can see there is a problem. On the plus side, this mutation may spread more quickly but it is not,  apparently, responsible  for more serious illness per se. Just for increasing the sick amongst the population as a whole. Great 😟 Just what we need. 

No sooner had a stunned nation taken in these latest rules/latest grim news and those of us as yet not in tier 3 or tier 4 breathed a sigh of (temporary) relief when more grim news broke. Nations across the world led by the EU have drawn up the drawbridge and isolated the United Kingdom.

With rail and ferry links to Europe stopped for all but non contact freight shortages are biting immediately. 

Hard not to believe this is partly the EU sticking a proverbial finger  up to the UK for its brinkmanship over Brexit. Too late now for a deal, Boris? Shame. Here's a warning shot on what a no deal Brexit is going to look like!

Thousands of lorries are now stalled in Kent. Without food, water and washing/toilet facilities. Scottish seafood is going out of date stuck on containers going nowhere.

And naturally panic buying has begun.  Salad and fruit is the first to go every morning, but people are buying anything and everything again. Supermarkets are re introducing limits. I will have to get used to no fresh salad even sooner than I thought.

Happy Christmas one and all . Bah humbug. 

I am more fortunate than many. I have my husband and my wonderful daughter in my bubble. But it is tearing me apart that I shall miss seeing my youngest son and his partner in London and my second son, his wife and two lovely girls in Norfolk over the festive season. 

I am literally holding my breath that nothing goes wrong between now and Friday so that Paul, Annie and I may spend Xmas Day with my eldest son and family, my two beloved granddaughters. Our one precious indoor day. 

It is a measure of how much life has changed that today, Tuesday, I dare not get excited about Friday. 

 

Whatever next

 Whatever Next

December 16th. London is now in tier 3. East Sussex may be next due to rising infection rates across the country, although in rural Lewes we are still "low". Rumours that our Christmas 5 day window of limited relaxations were to be cancelled have finally came to nothing after two days of dithering and a lecture masquerading as a press conference from No 10 today.

"A smaller Christmas is going to be safer Christmas and a shorter Christmas is a safer Christmas" proclaimed Boris Johnson. Once he'd ruled out actual changes, who cares.  Data show 57% of the public have no faith in this Government to deal with the pandemic. Personally, I have 0%. I have more faith in my own ability to keep myself safe than in this corrupt, inefficient, Government. 

In all honesty trying to reverse Christmas at this late stage would have been like trying to stop a juggernaut.  Wait until everyone has done their shopping, fighting through crowds , queuing, I don't think so. Break the hearts of an already beleaguered nation still  further. I don't think so/

Wales and Scotland are pulling away though, with Wales planning a full lockdown from Dec 28th and a two household not three rule. There are still suggestions Bojo might pull a few last minute knockouts as his ability to do a U turn is legendary.

Yes , there is undeniably a crisis coronavirus wise. The situation has deteriorated. No doubt. November "lockdown" did nothing to stem the steady increase of cases and deaths. Keeping the schools, colleges and universities open did the damage anyway. There is a new virulent virus variant at work, not surprisingly. Viruses mutate.  Plus too many people simply doing what people have done since the start of time. Mingling.   

We are social beings. Since March everyone has been forced to live in varying degrees of isolation and there is a distinct air of rebellion everywhere. Homes have become prisons. Hospitality is no longer hospitable. Exercise is no longer escapism given the winter nightmare of rain/wind/frost. 

There is no good news. Vaccine distribution is a shambles. In Lewes elderly and vulnerable, those 'lucky' few, were forced to wait for hours in the rain and biting wind for a precious first dose.  Promises of a bright future within sight have disappeared beneath concern about logistics of delivering a vaccine designed to be kept at -70 degrees. 

Matt Hancock's false 'tears' as he was filmed watching the first ever vaccine earlier this week was so cringe worthy words fail me. Disgusting. Shameful that this joke of a man is our Health Minister

And as for Brexit. No news. Both sides eye the wire nervously, refusing to be the first to pull back. Boris tried to slip in a patriotic rallying call to today's press conference. Disgusting. Shameful that this joke of a man is our Prime Minister 

I cherish the memories of those few snatched hours on the beach with my little ones in Norfolk last weekend as it could be many weeks until I see my family up there again. I hope and pray to see the little ones at this end of the country somewhere outside this weekend if the weather holds, even if just for an hour 🤞. 

Normally at this time of year I plan my travels and look forward to Xmas. This year I walk in the rain, in the wind, in the cold. And wonder what on earth is coming next.  Bad days, good days, days of nothingness, where I simply feel numb. 

Christmas Day is less than a fortnight away. In theory I will be with my family and two of my grandchildren. In practice it is tempting fate to even consider getting excited. 

One high temperature, one cough, in households already under siege from paranoia flooding in from scientists and doctors and Christmas is off. Christmas shopping is a leap of faith, a triumph of hope over experience,  I am doing it online (not least as Lewes is now a wasteland of empty shopfronts) with my heart in my mouth that I will still be looking at a stash of brightly wrapped gifts long into 2021. 

Whatever next. Who knows. As I type we await new tier revisions. Businesses still open have their heart in their mouth for a tier 3 verdict, shutting down hospitality for all but take away. The week before Xmas. 

Tier 3 will barely touch me. As a non taxpayer, not old enough to be mightily vulnerable, not young enough to be fine, I am an irrelevance. 

People like me do not feature in graphs. We have no role. We are invisible. No voice. No presence. The silent majority. My Christmas plans are out of my control. My life is out of my control. I have never felt so helpless or so hopeless. 

In the bleak midwinter

 In the bleak midwinter

First snowfall of this winter, night time temperatures down to minus 5 degrees, mark the first weekend of December.

Paul and I head to the frozen North to meet up with our Norfolk based son and his family. Outside. Tier 2 rules. We meet on a bleak beach counting our blessings it is dry. 

As instructed by my son, I resist all my natural instincts to touch my granddaughters. Not hugging is hard enough, not to touch is almost unbearable. My youngest granddaughter was one in March, she barely knows me.  

It is six weeks since I last saw her and during those barren November lockdown weeks she began talking. Her parents barely notice now , yet for me hearing her first words barely distinguishable over the wind was heartbreaking. 

This time last year I believed I was close to my granddaughters. Covid has broken that bond. There is a disconnect now. A gap in time.  The longer we are disconnected, the greater the gap, the more it feels we will never reconnect. 

In the spring I clung to virtual media as a lifeline to keep that bond strong,  but all too soon young children grow bored. Chatting to grandma on a phone screen hardly merits a glance now. I hold their attention by using special effects but calls are a rarity nowadays. 

I tried, so hard, with social distance playing. Yet without touch it is distance in more ways than physical. Telling stories when banned from going to a child's level makes it impossible to achieve the intimacy of connection. It is hopeless, heartbreaking..and yet it is all we have and so better, much better, than nothing.

I long to break the rules. Many of my friends do because they and their families have agreed that their emotional health outweighs the risk of Covid. I agree but my family do not. I understand it is because they care for me. What they do not understand, as their lives are full , is that mine is empty without touch. I simply cannot bear it.

The love a grandparent feels for their grandchildren is as strong, as primeval, as the love for their children. I know my children , now parents themselves, will not understand this until their turn comes. 

Last weekend I ran along that sandy but oh so cold beach playing hide and seek , laughing and joking with a toddler and a 3 year old , longing to hold them in my arms, hiding the sharp raw pain of loss under the joy of seeing their faces.

2020 has broken me.  There seems little point in planning ahead. I no longer see a future if truth be told. The life I had before has gone, lost in the mists of Covid.  

Yes. despite my cynicism ,  small doses of the pfizer vaccine have arrived in the UK , heralding a fanfare of celebrations for those elderly and infirm who have been jabbed. 

81 year old William Shakespeare,  hospital in patient receiving treatment for bone cancer, having his first dose of the vaccine. 

Me, I find it hard to celebrate anything. No other country has yet authorised this for use. Two days in and cases of anaphylactic shock have been reported, denting  public confidence still further. 

Hard to resist seeing these triumphant patriotic optics as a smokescreen to distract from the looming nightmare of a no deal Brexit on Jan 1st. Yet again this incompetent Gov is managing to steal defeat from the jaws of victory.  

With less than 2 weeks to go before the end of our years transition period we still have no trade deal. Bojo's promised 'oven ready' deal has gone the way of many turkeys, culled thanks to an outbreak of bird flu across the country. Seriously. You couldn't make it up. 

Covid cases continue to rise nation wide. London is threatened with imminent tier 3 restrictions, closing hospitality in the most profitable weeks of the year, as the virus rages through the city. 

Deaths rise sharply too. Here in rural Lewes our case load remains low, among the lowest in the country as 40 per 100,000. Probably because there is sod all to do. 

I walk. Endlessly. In the bleak midwinter.  Fighting the deep unremitting sense of nothingness which threatens to overwhelm me. This year is not a journey. There may have been a beginning. The rest is a mess. Now it is simply  a matter of survival. 

Vaccine, what vaccine?

 Vaccine, what vaccine?

Lockdown officially ended yesterday. Today, Wednesday Dec. 2nd, I awake in tier 2.  Nothing has changed. I went for a walk with friends. Same same.

In cities it is more obvious. Non essential shops can open again. Cue queues outside Primark across the country. Crikey, and I thought my life was boring. 

Banner Headline to detract the nation from the first day of 'lockdown light'. Oh look, the UK is the first nation to approve the new Pfizer vaccine for use. Supplies are due imminently. Hah.

1. For " first" substitute "only"

2. For " supplies" substitute 40,000 divided by two as its two doses a go.

3. For " imminently " substitute " sometime later this month, hopefully, rush this from the EU before the inevitable Brexit border hold ups".

4. Hah because this is the vaccine which has to be kept at -70. The Pfizer cold storage lab in Havant is closing prior to Brexit. So far the only place to store this on arrival is in hospitals-somewhere.

Detract, um, possibly. Yesterday was a bad news day for the Government. The revolt in Parliament on the vote to pass our new stricter tier system revealed the depths of dissent and rebellion across public and private alike. 

78 MPs voted against the measure. 15 were Labour who ignored the order to abstain, but the rest were Tories, the biggest two finger salute yet to Boris Johnson. The measure passed because Labour abstained , not because of this Government's majority.

The village idiot posing as our Health Secretary, Matt Hancock, failed miserably to reassure everyone that the vaccine is within sight. Boris Johnson today held a press conference to try again. Double fail. 

Experts, the real ones, suggest we might get our lives back by next winter.  Now that I do believe. 

So as the one sure fact is we are safer outside, if we can get to the spring and summer we'll  get a breather. Time to actually sort out a vaccine?? 

November has given way to December without much notice. I continue my journey through the mire of 2020.  Paul works from home. I work at not falling into the yawning gap of emptiness where once I had a life. 

Long given up any idea of a journey. Those early lyrical tomes now seem laughable in their innocence. There is no end in sight. My life as I knew it has gone. 

I have lost precious months with my pre school granddaughters I cannot replace. I can no longer remember what it feels to lose myself into an art exhibition, a film, a meal out. 

Current concerns: how many thermal vests can I layer up together to walk in the frozen wastes of the Sussex countryside. Will my walking boots hold out til the spring? Dear God, how cold is this country!

I rest my case. My world has shrunk to a shadow of its former self and so have I. 

" Total bollocks"

 "Total Bollocks"

Week 3 done. Within sight of the finishing line, when we were promised a return to our regional tiers. Huh. Another broken promise. Lockdown is to continue after all. Yes, England will return to tiers but not as we knew it. 

Instead of our relatively relaxed tier 1, as befitted our low level of infection, here we join the majority of England in the restrictive tier 2. The only small mercy is that we are not in tier 3. 

It is, as one MP angrily declared on bbc radio 4 today, " total bollocks".

So from now on my life looks like this:

                            

I have made it through the November lockdown day by day, week by week. My family have stuck to the rules only to be slapped in the face by a corrupt, inefficient, dishonest Government who changed the goalposts yet again. 

Judging by the headlines the prevailing mood of the country is anger. This month has been full of rumours followed by leaks so deep they could fill a reservoir but this new lockdown light was hidden behind the smokescreen of the Christmas rules.

Little did we know when Boris offered us his Xmas cheer that his 5 day window to see up to 3 households was not as generous as it seemed, given it is now the only time we can meet inside this year. 

" Tis the season to be jolly...careful" declared the PM as he tried and failed to walk and talk the tightrope of festive joy and pandemic woes. 

The nations media was still generically working out the confusing rhetoric and rules around this 5 day "three household exclusive" bubble relaxation  in the calm equilibrium of expectation that the majority of the country would still be able to meet indoors in the rule of 6 in tier 1 when we found out that to do this we had to continue in a new variety of non lockdown.

Heartbreaking decisions need to be made. We are a large extended family and I have to face the fact that we cannot see everyone.  "Total bollocks" 

That has still to be faced.  I cannot bear it. I have managed another week of 1 on 1 walks, thank god for friends. I have  more planned next week because this and the company of my husband and daughter in our household bubble has saved my sanity.  

Now I must adjust to tier 2 . Rule of 6 outside socially distanced. No indoor household mixing/ There has been much emphasis on the social distance even outside. My grandchildren range from 6 to 14 months, enough said.

There is a growing surge of resentment in Parliament. A backbench revolt is planned for the vote on all the above next week. Labour, who have pledged to back the Government on Covid rules, are hesitating. The curb on our civil liberties is surreal. 

Sir Desmond Swayne, MP  for the new forest, challenged the PM with "The last ruler that told us how we may or may not celebrate Christmas was Oliver Cromwell. It didn’t end well, did it"

The suicide rate has shot up in the UK. Reports on loneliness show a horrifying level of despair across class, race, economics, generations. Businesses are in crisis. 

I no longer talk about the pandemic. I talk endlessly about the crazy bizarre parody of everyday life I am living. 

In the spring I thought the world had turned upside down. Now I simply don't know which way it was to start with anymore. 

 

 

 

Week 2 of non Lockdown

 Week 2 of non Lockdown

Long nights, bleak grey days.  Leaks to media of further weeks of tough restrictions. Rumours of a Christmas release for a five day feast followed by the fast of January and February lockdown are meet with universal despair.

There is little of note beyond I am not yet mad. Unless its 'mad' as in angry, in which case yes, I m mad beyond fury. It is the anger which is keeping me afloat above the mire of depression.

Partner walks with friends are keeping me sane. Everyone is sad but sadness shared lifts the spirits. This week I have walked every day with a different friend, tramping through mud, braving the wind and rain. If nothing else 2020 has shown me the value of true friends as well as my beloved family 

I walk in silence, I walk and talk, I walk with headphones. The world around me echoes through my ears. We live in interesting times. My life may be boring but the news has never been so dynamic. 

This was the week that finally did for Dominic Cummings . The master strategist brought down by the mistress. The heady days of the rose garden press conference . when nothing it seemed could ever part Dominic from Boris, replaced by the winter of his discontent.

Did he go or was he pushed? I doubt we will ever know. What is known is that the cabal of two,  he and Lee Cain, i.e. Brexit engineers in chief and most senior Gov advisors,  cabal of two, were deemed guilty of plotting against Bojo's fiance, Carrie Symonds, and his new media  spokesperson Allegra Stratton 

This combined with weeks of negative headlines and Boris finally decided on a much needed fresh team. Hurrah for the women.  Never underestimate a strong feminist, Dominic.  Good riddance to bad rubbish was the universal response. 

However the PMs brave new dawn hardly broke through our collective gloom. Boris was suddenly forced to field his  'reset' from the sidelines due to self isolation after a COVID positive contact. Not exactly an auspicious start. 

All rather comical as Sir Kier Starmer found himself arguing with a virtual PM during PMQs.  Maybe the PM was grateful not to be sitting opposite the incandescent rage of Sir Kier in full rant,  lambasting the disembodied PM for the latest truly disgraceful report revealing just how many billions of taxpayers money was wasted yet again lining the pockets of the rich, famous and friends of the Tory party. 

Boris defends the indefensible: 

Ministers set up a VIP fast-track channel to buy billions of pounds of PPE from companies who had political contacts with the government and MPs, a damning report reveals today. 

The Times did not mince its words. 

It says much about the cynicism of the UK public at the end of 2020 that even those politically engaged people like myself barely raised an eyebrow and it didn't come up in my walkie talkie partner walks with likeminded friends. We've come to expect corruption nowadays. 

Nor do we really believe anything we are told any more. Vaccines delivered by Xmas from an organisation who could not supply enough flu jabs for the elderly and vulnerable, let alone the over 50s urged to get a free one by a Government campaign early in the year. I don't reckon I ll be seeing one of those anytime soon. If there have been any press conferences this week I have not bothered to tune in.

Steve Bell in The Guardian summing up beautifully.

In America Trump continues to deny defeat to the bemusement of the rest of the world. You could not make it up. Unbelievable. But all too true.  He drives round giving the thumbs up to his supporters insisting his victory was stolen by election fraud. He stirs up conspiracy theories. Biden has his hands tied, unable to begin transition policies. The world watches with increasing anxiety at the real possibility of civil war.

As I write Trump piles on legal writ after legal writ. Boris announces policy after policy to distract from his complete incompetence. Today he insists on keeping his Home Secretary Pritti Patel despite a report finding her guilty of bullying. His loyal Brexit, despite a history of bribe taking, bad behaviour and incompetence, stays by his side. Seriously?  Hard to judge Trump too harshly. 

Stevel Bell yet again. 

Yet another professional senior advisor, the author of the aforementioned report, resigns. The nation takes another collective sigh of disbelief and wonders what to have for supper. 

No one mentions Christmas.