Everyday stories

Everyday stories


"We are all in this together" . A  daily constant in the Downing Street press conference . 'This'  being the truly horrendous global pandemic of worldwide carnage and chaos, true, but 'this' also refers to our own nation. As each country is dealing individually with this crisis, I cannot escape a sinking sensation that our own seems to have lost its way?

'This' in the UK has to reflect the ghastly fact that our overall death toll from hospitals and care homes ( as best can be statistically accounted for, given the acknowledged issues in recording COVID-19 on death certificates)  is rapidly heading towards being the worst in Europe. Testing policy is confusing, conflicting and issues with access continue. 

Our much acclaimed Nightingale hospitals are still empty, a positive sign of controlling the pandemic, but the economic cost and forecast are of nightmare proportions. No surprise then that now many businesses are beginning to reopen, DIY shops, Burger King, MacDonalds, small businesses, all legally,  claiming they have implemented the necessary social distancing rules. Traffic is building up once again on our roads.

As yet we are been given no idea about any formal 'exit strategy'  despite this shift in public life and resulting breakdown of mass lockdown. The much heralded return of PM Boris Johnson has brought only again the constant slogan to remain patient,  as 'we work together' to defeat the virus.

Togetherness is such a wonderful social and cultural myth, drawing on historic identities to engender a unifying sense of belonging. It can, if it works, shape a shared sense of purpose and consensus linking a divided, diverse community, moulding them as one against an unseen enemy. 

However,  it is becoming increasingly obvious 'we' no longer feel unified, or certainly not as much as a month ago.  Mass media is now full of ideas, theories, proposals on how to end our lockdown as businesses across the land take matters into their own hands and MP s on all sides speak out openly against our confinement, arguing that cost, emotionally, physiologically, economically, collectively and individually, is becoming too heavy to bear.  The daily mantra of togetherness is sounding increasingly hollow.

This post brings individual stories from behind our closed doors together. There are themes emerging, a growing awareness of what has been lost to us in these weeks, of a growing resentment with the way this crisis has/is being handled and a growing need to see a way forward despite our universal grief for the death of thousands, millions, across the world. 
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Sarah Boughton

Today is day 39 of my home confinement (lockdown sounds too punitive) due to coronavirus. For me this was preceded by ten days stuck at home after falling and hurting my foot.

For the last few days I have been beset by the feeling that 2020 has been stolen from me by the pox. I have everything to be thankful for – I am retired and living comfortably on a pension, I have a house and garden, enough food to eat, a congenial partner and a family who I get on with. I have good health and no underlying conditions, but have no desire to catch Covid-19 given how nasty and exhausting it sounds even in its mild form. And obviously I don’t want to be one of those who ends up in hospital or dead. 
But all the things I would normally be doing in pre-virus life are affected if I want to keep myself well until a vaccine is available. 

In the months to come I don’t expect to be able to go to pubs, restaurants, music venues and gigs, to rehearse with my band, to sing with my choir,to do a pottery class. I shan’t be visiting my friends in other parts of the country, or holidaying away, for fear of infection and falling ill away from home, we won’t be welcoming visitors here. I won’t be on public transport, or visiting Brighton or London just for a change of scene or to meet a friend. I won’t be visiting my family for fear of spreading illness – them to me or me to them. Maybe we can have some socially distanced meetings out of doors, who knows? 

I can’t help but also be aware that in three weeks I shall turn 70, which I suspect may immediately thrust me into an ‘elderly’ category around which some new rules may be fashioned as lockdown is slowly lessened. I may just feel obliged to be as flexible as possible with the rules in order to keep glimpsing my new granddaughter, or walking by the sea, while trying to ensure that I don’t catch anything.

After a lifetime of (mostly) certainty, everything is up in the air and none of us can see a way through it. As an optimist I cling on to the likelihood that by mid 2021 I will be able to do all those things that I used to, and that were snatched away so unexpectedly during March 2020.
..................Grace Austin

I have been living in a gilded cage - locked down with husband, children and a grandchild, with access to the countryside, fresh food and other family links through digital media. Nothing to cry about at all.

Yet in the past couple of weeks the news about the BAME population dying in greater numbers than their representation in the UK population, both as medical and care workers and in the wider world has brought me to tears. 

The same tears of frustration that I shed when reading of the government pushing ahead with HS2 tree felling in the early weeks of the lockdown, disregarding social distancing and evicting protesters from trees. 

I have been ashamed of the UK government since the Brexit
debacle, with the discrimination against the people who they now rely on as key workers. The lack of joined up thinking that has led to UK farmers chartering their own flights to enable crops to be harvested by Romanian workers and the prioritisation of large infrastructure projects which may never be needed, indicate that we may well return to business as usual after this event rather than re-thinking how we stucture our society, unless we contribute to the debate. 

My husband's words of wisdom are "Don't concentrate on the negatives, of which there are so many; try rather to envisage and act on initiatives to make a better future." So we are spending time in hopeful discussion in which nothing is too fanciful.

....................
Richard from West Sussex

We are personally very fortunate to have no direct experience of the virus however the impact has affected our lifestyle and especially many of our friends abroad.

News comes to me from Africa where there is a real fear of being overwhelmed with the virus, knowing medical provision is so limited. In Kenya there has been a lockdown for some time and borders closed several weeks ago. This meant months of planning to bring friends from Ethiopia, Tanzania, Uganda and Rwanda together, had to be postponed.In Kenya especially the economic implications have been considerable as food prices have risen and the few who have jobs, have lost their jobs.

The UK Government has tried to help with peoples` wages and to protect our NHS but this is virtually impossible for most African governments. I have news from Malawi where the virus is now reported and again the fear of it becoming widespread and in Sierra Leone, which has only recently recovered from the Ebola crisis, they had hoped the lockdown would stop today but have learned it continues.

In Liberia my friend has malaria but his sister- in- law is a nurse and she has the virus. In Pakistan the virus has hit and again economically the poorer people and minority groups are struggling for food.

Churches have been closed all over the world  and the majority of Christian groups that I know have wanted to support their governments and set an example to their communities in terms of social distancing. However celebrating Christ`s death and resurrection at Easter was very different.


There have been some good spin-offs. Churches are exploring developing services to place on their websites and also live streaming. Various methods of having virtual meetings have been explored. Clapping for the NHS Thursday night in our Close has been very heart-warming and we are pleased to hear of many deeds of kindness.  Everyone wants it to end soon but for those spared the actual ordeal, it brings immense gratitude and the reminder again of the fragility of life.

...................................
Kate , staying with her son for the duration.

To state the obvious really, while the lockdown has caused tremendous hardship for some, for others it has made no financial difference. For my two sons, one finds life worse, as he has had a pay cut. He’s in a shared house with three young people whose parents live abroad. For the other, life has improved a bit. OK, he can’t see his friends, but he saves four hours a day in travelling time and about £266 per month in train fares. And he has his Mum to do the cooking and cleaning! 

His favourite activity is to get together with three friends on WhatsApp – they all make themselves a drink and seem to do quiz questions!! But he did say he was glad to have me here for the company. I am very happy to be here; I don’t think I’d have done very well alone.

Every evening I try to recall what I have achieved during the day. I am surprisingly busy.  I am aware that friends , some of whom are over 70 so have to stay home, are feeling very isolated and some are particularly missing grandchildren.

One of the strangest aspects is if you go for a walk at 8.30 a.m. you only see other people strolling or jogging – nobody is scurrying off to work. The fabulous weather has helped a lot. What’ll we do when it breaks?

I am spending less as I can’t travel or go out, so am trying to give that money to charity – but there are many demands and it is hard to decide who should benefit.  I drink more – have a glass of wine on many days of the week. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be if you’re a recovering alcoholic.

My builders continue, as there can be one or even two working in different areas of the empty house, but it is getting more and more difficult to find materials. I can see it is simplest to stop everything but surely there must be ways of e.g. allowing garden centres to sell their plants. Seems like it’s good to be in the storage business. All my furniture is in storage and I can’t get it out because they’ve closed – but I still have to pay the storage fee …

It’s also odd being in a different town, staying with my son. I have no idea what’s happening here and it’s hard to find out. So I know what’s what in Lewes but I’m too far away to be involved. I feel very worried about cinemas and theatres, also cafes and restaurants. There are probably more cafes than we need but it would be awful to lose cinemas and theatres.

I find it intensely irritating that every time a journalist asks about post-lockdown plans the duty politician will say, ‘We can’t confuse the public by talking now about letting them out in the future.’ Do they think we are really that stupid? We have been failed by the government (surprise surprise). I travelled back from Portugal on 1 March and the only sign of Covid-19 at the airport was a small A4 notice stuck on the wall. Incoming travellers should have been more strictly controlled, even in February. The government should have been organising PPE back then.

As for Boris Johnson missing Cobra meetings, etc. etc. - well, it’s just typical! But at least they are trying to help businesses although there’s not much for microbusinesses. And the Nightingale hospitals were organised in good time.

I feel a bit bleak when wondering about the future, not so much personally but about how people who’ve lost jobs will cope and how society will operate if we’re basically scared of being infected by everybody else.
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Thank you to everyone who wrote, Writing is like a virtual reality meeting, it helps keep us in touch and helps us feel we are not alone. It brings us together. For me every day is a mixture of hope and despair, I moan my missing weeks, the lost time with my loved ones and my young granddaughters, I feel increasingly pessimistic about the how, why and wherefores of going forward but I also cling to optimism, This time will pass and we will come together again.

How to pass the days

How to pass the days

We are now in week something or other of lockdown and it is a random day of the week; I know not which one. 

The media reassures me my date related memory 'loss' is universal as normal routines are currently lost to us. No schools, no sports, no shops ( bar supermarkets)  no gyms, no cinemas, no offices, nothing is open, our world has closed in. Without structure time has collapsed into a blur.

Working life still continues, those on the front line and the many on the back lines but it is also mainly invisible, out of sight.  Home working has isolated thousands behind the closed doors of their houses, coping without their usual job structures, without their peers, their colleagues, ironically at the very time when team working is most vital.

This unique challenge is incredibly stressful,  I am full of admiration for everyone working relentless hours, adapting to their 'new' work environments.  I can see from within my own family how much pressure this has brought, especially for those sharing their 'office' space with young children.  

However, I secretly envy these key workers their daily structure, their sense of purpose. Office hours are still office hours even if pyjamas have become official dress code.  For me, weekdays merge seamlessly into one.  I drift silently, carefully,  around my house, trying not to disturb those working so hard for all our sake in their respective improvised offices. 

I only know it is a weekday not a weekend as two thirds of my household are missing in action, shut behind their study doors. They will reappear in the evening and at weekends and I appreciate how lucky I am. Their structure gives me one by default, However lonely I am in the week ( and I am lonely, alone in my house in every sense that matters) I do have company at the weekends, unlike so many.

Recently like many households we returned to multi generational living for the duration. After 3 weeks of self isolation on all sides my daughter packed up her worldly goods and her cat, locked up her own seafront flat, and came home.

We have room to give her essential office/living/ space she needs, and now we can share our evenings and weekends together. Although we cannot share our cats and spend an inordinate amount of time keeping them apart to stop them fighting, this is such a tiny, tiny price to pay for the sheer joy of her company. Walking in the warm sun for our daily exercise I hear my laughter. a welcome and strangely unfamiliar sound.

I named this post' how to pass the days' as  I have 'sort of' found a new routine 'of sorts'. One day I run for my exercise, the next I walk. I prefer to exercise in the mornings, it makes me get up and out , it gives me energy. So far so good. It also leaves a lot of day left. Not so good.

ZOOM coffee mornings are the only entry on my blank calendar, nothing like the same yet they give my surreal empty day a much needed shape. Just 'seeing' friendly faces even in virtual reality brings much needed company. Studies show humans need contact to thrive, conversation stimulates our minds, our emotions.  Virtual reality is not the same, far from it, but it is definitely better than nothing.

In this current 'normal' our virtual coffee mornings have  not only taken place via an alternative format but taken on alternative themes. Key conversation topics include:

1.When is a 'good' time to shop and where?

Shopping has also taken on alternative meanings nowadays. It is a permitted reason to leave the house, hence this previously onerous task is now a disproportionately exciting treat.

As I am classed 'at risk' and am fortunate to have someone to shop for me,  I enjoy this weekly thrill vicariously through tales of this weekly adventure and in exploring the rewards of the chase.   

Social distancing means a complex etiquette, customers wait in line 2 metres apart and enter the store one at a time. Gloves are provided (in theory) for the regularly disinfected trolleys, there is a one way system rigidly (in theory)  enforced in aisles and queuing system to pay at the tills where cashiers sit behind plastic screens.

If a queue outside stretches to more than 20 people, waiting time prior to entry can exceed 30 minutes, so knowing when is a 'good' time means knowing when is quiet, this is a core talking point. Alas, it seems to vary from day to day, week to week so this topic runs and runs, it has become our conversational staple.

Which shop to visit is also handy, as we have nothing within walking distance our one off weekly shopping trip can only take in one of the three nearest supermarkets. Alas, the same rule applies, the one with toilet rolls and pasta one day will be sold out the next. Fruit and vegetables are hit and miss. Flour has vanished everywhere. Eggs are a hot topic. 

Bar flour, nothing is actually short at the minute, it s more a question of supply issues. Time your weekly shop wrong and you risk empty shelves. No eggs!  Plus as media reports of impending shortages of basically anything and everything are stating the obvious as this is a truly global lockdown focusing on a 'need to buy' rather than 'might want to have' is a tricky issue.  

2. How to buy garden seeds and plants?

Food is not the only item in short supply. Vegetable seeds and garden plants are another conversational staple. I am not a gardener but  I have now joined in the nation's favourite hobby as my garden is the only truly safe outside place to relax in. Unfortunately lockdown rules have closed the garden centres. Cue crisis in seeds, vegetable and flowers alike throughout this green and pleasant land.

ZOOM chats reveal hidden gems such as which local house has a box of seeds for sale outside.  Vegetable seeds have sold out everywhere so this piece of information was gold dust.  I cling to hope my blossoming apples tree will be fruitful as will my soft fruit bushes and tend them with loving care.

I found modern day treasure on my daily walk recently, a rare sighting of a trolley of bedding plants outside by our local garden centre, free for donations. When everything is out of bounds anything like this brings unexpected cheer, who knew pink primulas could bring me such happiness.

3. When to walk and where to go?

After shopping and gardening comes the exercise conundrum. Where and when to go on our daily exercise is a hot topic. Living as we do surrounded by the south downs walking should be a natural pleasure but with gyms and leisure centres closed footpaths can be  ridiculously crowded; cyclists, horses, dogs, jostle for position alongside cattle and sheep. 

A relaxing walk means avoiding narrow tracks and potentially busy times when the need for social distancing turns a pleasure into a nightmare. As with shopping, finding a good time is finding a  quiet time. My local friends and I exchange hints and tips on avoiding crowds. Ironically this April weather has been dry and sunny throughout, tempting out even those normally reclusive, inactive folk for a daily walk.  At times leaving our front gate resembles a scene from The Great Escape as I scuttle through our picturesque village to find peaceful strolls in pastures further afield.


ZOOM meetings are not ideal, time constraints and the awkwardness of virtual chatting when only one person can speak at a time make these coffee mornings odd experiences but for all the cons there are more pros, keeping me in touch is helping keeping me sane.  As the weeks roll into each other I am getting used to this alternative format and it is giving me a routine to pass my days.

As one local friend who was staying with family in the North  and is now 'trapped' there for the duration of lockdown wrote :  

I find the Zoom meetings tricky and not very calming. I think they work better when it’s a workshop and one person is presenting something. I don’t do the bigger group one...but it’s worth persevering to keep up with people.

I have realised how nice it is to have someone in the household who is still working and giving a structure to the week. I even felt the long Easter weekend was special.

This mirrors my experience. ZOOM coffee mornings are better than nothing in connecting us, keeping us in contact with each other, exchanging whys and means on how to cope with this journey.  For those of us not working, it can provide a time frame for a day.  

How we pass our days is something I sense I will return to again and again as our Government continue to tell us there is no end in sight. There will be many days ahead to fill. Roll on this coming weekend where I will relish companionship, laughter and fun. Then the next long week begins again..

Onward. No end in sight. No light at the end of the tunnel.

Onward,  no end in sight

April 16th.

Three more weeks of  lockdown confirmed.My heart sinks.   I am ashamed to admit how much I have struggled this week.  Hard though it is to write this in the face of so much bravery on every front; key workers literally dicing with death, essential workers struggling to keep this country going, volunteers flooding to assist everywhere in every possible way... I am simply, selfishly, pathetically, sad. 

I watch the latest press conference from a Government facing  increasing scrutiny about a lack of any forward policy and under fire for failures to provide promised resources in an angry and despondent mood.  

Acute shortages of PPE are headline news, in contrast to the fulsome assurances only a few short weeks ago by Health Minister Matt Hancock that the UK had ordered enough for everyone who needed it. This plus criticism of inadequate and unreliable testing dominate rising concern that our NHS and the overlooked and overloaded care home sector are wildly, desperately,  under resourced.

Today one NHS boss contacted the BBC to ask for urgent help from fashion brands such as Burberry and Barbour who have offered to run up hospital gowns, branding Matt Hancock's denial of shortages as a 'fantasy' and saying his staff were about to run out of essential PPE within days.

With Boris Johnson still absent convalescing there is mounting criticism of lack of leadership not least from the newly elected Labour leader Sir Keir Starmer.  In demanding proposals towards a possible exit strategy/strategies,  he echoes the views of many of us who, whilst absolutely  appreciating why lockdown Britain is necessary, find it is increasingly hard to see no light at the end of a long dark tunnel.

There are those who have magically lit our way ahead this week. One 99 year old WW2 veteran stumbled into hearts and wallets across the land when he set out to walk 100 laps of his back yard to raise £1000 for the NHS.  His daily faltering determined steps captured our imagination, uniting this diverse, disjointed society into coming together for a greater good. Donations currently stand at 18 million pounds.




The money is vital, the stark fact is that our death toll is rising, hundreds and hundreds each day. There is as yet no viable solution to resolving this crisis any time soon. 

Officially the Government has come up with 5 criteria which must be met before an end date can be considered:

1. To make sure the NHS can cope by providing sufficient critical care across the UK
2. To see a sustained and consistent fall in daily death rates with confidence the UK is beyond the peak
3. Reliable data to show the infection rate is falling to manageable levels
4. There is enough testing and personal protective equipment (PPE) to meet future demand
5. Any changes in restrictions would not lead to a second peak

Um, how? 

The acknowledged unpredictability of present data  belies confidence in the truth of any figures, given we all know data comes from a myraid of sources. Daily death rates including including deaths at home rather than in hospital, or not? Taking into account many older people die in care homes and are certified without COVID 19 on their death certificate, or not?

The questions are endless, as are any possible answers.

Without a crystal ball how will know if there is to be a second peak? Are we watching those countries ahead of us in this global pandemic to learn from their successes and failures. This seems a risky tactic given the unique nature of national cultures and the inescapable fact that the UK  has continually mapped a different route through the current crisis.

With no end in sight this week hope took a nose dive and sadness took its place. Sad. Such a small, simple word for such a colossal tidal wave of emotion. At times I have been submerged by its weight, overcome with tears.  It has wound itself heavily around me.  I have sat helpless under a dark cloak of misery, feeling myself fading into a silent shadow,  vanishing down a still,  silent black hole where time itself has no dimension. 

My heart feels broken with the longing to hug my granddaughters, to embrace my family. I crave the world outside my home, the simple pleasures of a savouring a barista coffee , chatting with friends, browsing the shops for a special treat. 

I miss the sea, oh how I miss the sea. It is so near and yet so far, I can see it tantalisingly from the hilltops. I want to sit on the stones and gaze at the infinite, eternal rhythm of the waves, drinking in the sounds, the salty tang, the light glinting on the water. 

I have not seen my family, I have not driven my car, I have not been to a shop, I have not ventured across the tiny 5 mile gap between here and the coast, for a month now.  I abide by our Coronavirus  awareness motto,   "stay home, stay safe, save lives" for myself and for everyone. Millions of us are in the same position. My sadness is accompanied by a painful guilt at my selfish misery. 

I am angry at myself for being pathetic. I have no right to indulge my dark mood. I am more fortunate than most. I have company in my self isolation. I have a large house and garden, I have gorgeous countryside to exercise in quite literally outside my gate. I have no financial worries.  I am proud of every single one of my family as they have adapted and coped incredibly well with these unprecedented stresses of working from home/ child caring at home. I am not proud of myself.   

So, if 99 year old Captain Tom can keep on walking, so can I.  I have shaken off this heavy burden of darkness. It will still lurk hidden in the shadows,  stalk me stealthily, trip me up, try to catch me unawares , but I will do my best to outrun it.  I shall put one foot in front of the other with everyone else, watching for light at the end of the tunnel. 

Inspirational words from Captain Tom, who celebrates his 100th birthday on April 30th: 

 “Tomorrow you will maybe find everything will be much better than today, even if today was alright. That’s the way I think I’ve always looked at it. Tomorrow will be a good day.”

Sounds good to me.  Here's to a good day tomorrow everyone.  

Voices from the void

Voices from the void

Stealthily, steadily, a new normal is forming , time forced to fit within the confines of my home. My empty calendar stares blankly, bleakly,  down from my kitchen wall. I cannot make plans. No one can.  Each day is bearable thanks to my glorious surroundings allowing me a blissful hour of exercise in solitude. Never have I been more grateful to live in such a beautiful national park. 

Boris Johnson is now out of hospital and convalescing in Chequers. Parliament is absent . on Easter recess. Our foreign secretary Dominic Raab is nominally in charge but continuously, monotonously,  tells us the Cabinet is working together as one united team. Working on what, I wonder? 

Daily press briefings no longer command high viewing figures.  The immediate urgency of this crisis has been replaced by repetitive bad news. Our economy is in nose dive, the death toll is rising , medicine and equipment shortages are rife. With no end in sight and nothing to look forward too even I ,who have always consumed news with an avid passion, find it hard to engage with this daily depressing litany of woes. 

Everyone is experiencing this new normal differently so it is fascinating to 'hear' words from outside my/our own isolation. Thank you to those featured below who sent me their individual stories. More to come in future posts. The more the merrier please, nothing is too small, too insignificant, voices from out there in the void beyond my garden brings comfort and company in these strange times. 

Reflections:

Caroline: an NHS key worker

Thinking about this blog made me realise the change in my role over the last few weeks.

35 years ago I started as a medical secretary at Barts Hospital in London. They wanted to know my qualifications-Diploma in Practise Management and availability.

Over the next three decades I' ve held various roles in the NHS where each time I was asked about my expertise, experience and knowledge. Last week I was asked if I could 'step up' to support a Covid 19 facility locally. On this occasion the only questions they asked were regarding my health -any underlying health problems, the health of any family members living with me and if I had any dependants.

I am proud to work for the NHS but it is a very different world we are now living in. Stay safe, stay home , safe lives. 

.............................

Karen and Ken:

We do hope you and your families are all keeping safe and are well. We are fine, a bit stiff with all the sitting down, although we are endeavouring to walk  once a day on the Downs behind our house. One 'bonus' of all of this is that we are spending time to really appreciate what nature has to offer on our doorstep and to watch it develop and flourish, coming into spring. It really has been a joy to behold, especially with the very good weather. Our children are all OK and generally doing very well keeping the little ones amused. Our Son and his girlfriend of 18 months, moved in together at his house, after the  announcement from the Government, that couples living apart, either move in together or do not see each other for the foreseeable future. They had been talking about it for a while, so it was no great surprise. We are just so pleased that they are not by themselves through this.

Our youngest daughter  has had to completely stop all her hairdressing work, although at the moment she is really enjoying the children and not having to organise work. No doubt she will be really busy when it all returns to some normality. She will have lots of stories about the state of peoples hair.  Her partner, is a postman and is working as a key worker, there have been issues over social distancing at the sorting office, but other than that he is working normally.

Our eldest daughter  has stopped her Vet nursing work for now, although she could continue as a key worker, but she didn't want to put the children into school. She is doing some Yoga lessons on the internet, some for free and some paid, so there is some money coming in. Darren, her husband is still working from home at the moment.

The biggest challenge for our daughters is keeping the little ones occupied. Our eldest daughter has a son of six and daughter of two and our youngest daughter has a daughter of six and four year old twin boys, but at least they both have gardens and the weather to date has been kind. One of the twin boys fell off his bike last week and went to paediatric A & E where a bone fracture was diagnosed. Our daughter said that the hospital was virtually deserted, they were the only patients. The doctor confirmed it had been ridiculously quiet with, on some days, only a tenth of normal patient Nos presenting. This was highlighted on national news recently with paediatric doctors stating they are concerned that ill children are not attending when they should be.

Our son is a pilot for easyjet and has been put on two months leave, although easyjet have done it in such a way that he is effectively on half pay funded by the government.   At the moment easyjet have grounded the entire fleet. His girlfriend is continuing to work in Lewes as a key worker for her company.

We are keeping in touch with all the children and Grandchildren on Skype or Facetime daily which is lovely, although we are finding it difficult not to actually be with them. We are into a routine now where we connect to the Grandchildren at bedtime and read a story or the older two read to us, which is lovely and is working really well. We are used to seeing a lot of them all very regularly and they often sleep here. We do very much look forward to getting back to seeing them.

Our mum, who suffers from dementia,  is OK in her rest home in Shoreham, although we have not been able to see her for 5 weeks now, as they went into lock down much earlier. They have no cases of the virus to date and are obviously doing all they can to keep it that way. We are able to talk and see her on Skype once a week, and also to phone her once a week. Her bungalow remains empty, currently under offer, but we don't expect that to progress much further at the moment.

We did manage a few days in an airb&b, 12 century mill house in Dorset a week or so before lock down which has proved to be a godsend. When and where will the next holiday be? It will be very interesting to see how the Country and World settles down after this. We don't really expect to get away out of the Country this year now. We would probably be very happy exploring a bit more of the UK once we are allowed out.

Another consequence of the lock down and NHS crisis, is dealing with people with illnesses other than Covid - 19. Our Brother in Law,  has been diagnosed with myeloma, and is waiting to commence a course of chemotherapy. He is also waiting to have a Gall bladder removal. Non of which is scheduled to happen any time soon because of the current situation.

.............................

Elaine: 

At this time of lock down, I have much for which to be thankful.

I have my husband. We walk and talk every day. We are able to go on the Downs. I appreciate the warm sunshine,  the colours of the spring flowers and the different bird calls. Strangers say "hello" and "thank you" when we pass.

Some like my 94 year old mother- in- law are unable to go out and spend lonely days completely alone.

I am at home. So many have been stranded abroad and do not know when they will be able to travel.

It was my birthday at the end of March. I saw most of my family on zoom and they sang to me. I also received a lot of cards in the post and text messages. 

I have more time to pray and read my Bible. Many churches have their services online. My daughter-in-law has provided a children`s Bible story with songs and suggested craft activities.

My choir has started a weekly singalong on zoom and I am able to teach some of my music pupils on skype.

I have time to do some spring-cleaning and sorting out though I prefer to knit or crochet! Apparently the product most sold in DIY stores has been paint!

I am very conscious of our Christian friends in Bosnia who have been helping the large number of refugees who pass through their town with medical aid, food, showers and shelter. Now of course they are not able to serve them in the same way. They do have services on skype or whatsapp. They long to help the big refugee camps in other parts of the country where many are infected with the virus and have minimal health care and perhaps only one small meal a day.

It is good to know that God is with us through it all and He cares for each one of us.

When life gets back to "normal", it will be lovely to hug our family and friends again.

I hope that we shall continue to appreciate and value one another more.  

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Easter A time for Faith,Hope and Love And chocolate...

 Easter

A time for Faith,Hope and Love

And chocolate...

Normally I love Easter. It is traditionally the time for joyous family parties, large gatherings for a BBQ on those sunny years, roast lamb around the dining table on those chillier ones.

Always there are Easter egg hunts amidst the flowers, always there is laughter, always the sounds of happiness and love echo across the garden and throughout my home.

This year I am bereft. Like families across the world we are all separate, confined to our own small household. Technology links us as a whole for one special hour together. The memory sustains me all weekend.

Everyone s resolve is being tested to the upmost as the unseasonably hot sun shines tauntingly on our deserted beaches, closed forests, empty trails and into our empty gardens. 

My garden is still and silent. So this year is  a time for recollections, reflections and remembrance, a time to think about faith, about hope, about love.

Childhood memories of church vigils on Good Friday  drift across my thoughts, I can almost smell wafting incense, hear low murmurings of prayer  before the shuttering of the doors in anticipation of the glorious resurrection mass at midnight on Easter Sunday, I can almost see the church  ablaze with light as hymns of praise rise to the rafters. 

As an adult I have failed to commit to any organised religion although I am not an atheist, I feel an instinctive belief in a greater good, somehow, somewhere, I just cannot make any more sense of it.

I have been privileged to join worshippers in many different faiths across many different lands. I have climbed mountains at daybreak to pray with Buddhist monks at sunrise, walked hundreds of steps to a sacred  Himalayan Hindu temple in India, sat cross legged for hours at the feet of a Sikh master in the Punjab, watched in awe as a Jain temple saved insects from underneath passing pedestrians in the dirt of Delhi, admired the quiet reverence of Muslims rolling out their tiny prayer mat on mud churned up by monsoon to pray. In Indonesia altars to every possible object have fascinated me, in a country where everything can be held sacred, everywhere is sacrosanct.

One Easter I walked amongst thousands celebrating Semana Santa in South America as our vast candlelit procession with giant floats held aloft above us weaved through the streets of Antigua, flowing into one living river of humanity towards the luminous cathedral. 

Not all my experiences of faith have been positive. In Sri Lanka I watched in horror as orange clad Buddhist monks beat an old lady trying to protect a Christian cemetery from destruction. I have seen Muslims and Hindis hurl fire bombs at each other in the street, I have seen Jews and Christians fight bare knuckled over a tiny patch of ground in Panama.  But these moments are rare compared to those of respect, awe and admiration of the power of religion.

For myself, my faith is in hope and in love. We are surrounded by beauty in nature and we are surrounded by the kindness of strangers, human nature at its best. In this current crisis volunteers have come forward in their hundreds and those of us who cannot help do our best to stay inside, to do our bit, to protect others as much as we protect ourselves.

This weekend I miss my family so acutely but although I personally will not participate in the online masses streaming from behind the doors of closed churches to give succour to the faithful.  I have taken comfort in my own faith in hope and love.  I hope our journeys along this hard road converge into the light of a happy ending.

Until then, I have my cupboard full of Easter eggs in anticipation of an Easter party postponed but not cancelled, my garden full of happiness, full of the voices of those I love around me once again.

An individual account of one family's coronavirus story. written by Grace Austin

Introduction

This blog is our stories of this time. My voice alone cannot do justice to the myriad of experiences happening everywhere, locally, nationally and internationally.

Within a few weeks life as we know it here in East Sussex and across Britain has changed beyond recognition.
Schools have closed; companies, businesses and workplaces large and small have closed; working from home has become the norm in the same space as childcare and alongside home schooling.
Households have shifted as families reassemble or dissemble; self isolating is literally isolating people from family and friends. The 'shielding' policy for the most vulnerable means this group should stay inside for 12 weeks, an impossible thought for so many of us to comprehend, three months trapped inside.
Care homes have shut their doors to visitors, cutting off people from their loved ones at their time of most need.
Shopping and daily exercise, the only reason to  leave our homes, are fraught with fears as social distancing is by consent not by control.
We understand how contagious this virus is. We know it is  everywhere.  
The UK death toll rises by the day, hundreds and hundreds every 24 hours.
Thursday night, tonight, across the country for the third week running people will come outside to clap, sound car horns, bang saucepans, for those key workers who care for the sick and dying, those essential workers who keep this country going. Society will coalesce around a common purpose for a few moments.  
But at every other moment we are coping as individuals, separate, diverse, managing as best we can in however ways we can, whichever ways we can, our own unique situations.

Here is the first of what I hope will be many more individual accounts reflecting these different stories,

Many thanks to Grace for her contribution which is an optimistic one. It feels apt to post this tonight as a sunny spring day draws to a close, whilst I wait for the Thursday 8pm applause to ring out around us even in our rural village, in the glow of a warm evening sunset . 

Keeping positive is hard in the face of continual bad news so thank you, Grace, for this story.



One family's Coronovirus story 

by Grace Austin                                         Post 1

In late February I began to feel unwell with headache, cough and flu like symptoms, particularly fatigue. Aware of the arriving pandemic, kept informed by friends in Italy who were already self isolating, I decided to stay at home whenever possible.  I did this with the exception of a couple of local events and two family meetings - one on March 1^st  when we met my three year old grandchild and parents at a local venue and a later midweek visit to London to see the other family with a 3 month old. We travelled to London by car, deciding against public transport.

By the second week of March I was clearly unwell but without a high temperature so stayed at home for about 10 days. During this time my husband who had no symptoms travelled North to see his father for a couple of days, fearing that this might be the last opportunity before Lockdown.  My friends rallied round on Whatsapp and Sms.

Towards the end of the the third week of March, my daughter who lives in London called. She and her partner and long awaited baby son would like to escape London before the imminent Lockdown. Her partner was disturbed by the aggression encountered  while shopping, and they realised that while their first floor flat is surrounded by parks and green space they might soon be unable to go to any of them. We have a self contained  annexe, usually let to Glyndebourne singers in the Summer. (No opera singers arriving this year) and the little family moved in on 19^th March.

My husband showed flu like symptoms on his return from his parental visit, and while I was recovering slowly he was still unwell when they arrived. As there is no antibody test yet available we will not know if we had Covid 19 or not. My husband attended an event on 8^th March with someone who was later diagnosed with Covid19. We decided to quarantine ourselves for at least 2 weeks so were only able to wave at our new neighbours across the garden. On 6^th April we agreed that we would now be able to enter each other's spaces, and that at last the grandparents could hold the baby.

My daughter and her partner are self employed. They had, until the Lockdown, well paid jobs in the Media and Music industries. As maternity pay for the self employed is so low my daughter had saved and budgeted for a 6 – 9 month maternity leave, which would finish in the early Autumn, when she had work scheduled. Her partner's plan had been to return to work incrementally with jobs in London before travelling abroad on tour. Of course this is not to be.

They are currently negotiating with their landlord's agent for a 50% rent reduction during the Lockdown, hoping that the self employed payments which are supposed to begin in June will then be accessible to her partner. The agent has been less than helpful, and government advice is unclear as to their rights.

They are resilient and creative people and the change in their circumstances has triggered a rethink of the plans for the future. Why return to London at all? If not where should they settle? Can they afford to buy a house locally? What will the music industry look like after the pandemic is over in the context of international travel restrictions and gatherings of people banned?

Meanwhile we are delighting in their company. We can relax in the garden and walk on the Downs. We are lucky to have financial security and the space to have them with us for as long as they need to be here.

My other daughter, living a 2 hour drive away, continues to work full time from home for a small arts organisation where she is a member of senior management. She is also caring for a bouncy 3 year old who used to attend nursery for 2 days a week. Her partner had a pivotal childcare role on the other 3 days but recently took a delivery and plant husbandry job for an organic grower for the two nursery days.

In this world turned up side down he is now a key worker (on minimum wage protected only by gloves as he delivers to the public  - albeit with social distancing) and has on his boss's request taken on another day's work. He is of course needed at home for the other days. While full time pay is welcome my daughter could manage if she was put on 80% furlough and finds herself in the invidious position of seeing this as preferable to juggling child care and the complex demands of her job.

(As a Trustee of a small museum I am fully aware of the issues these arts organisations are currently facing: balancing employment, furlough and possible redundancies with the survival of the organisation.)

We are in touch every other day or so by face time. We exchange videos, play games and sing songs and try to keep up with the family's life. We are used to seeing them every two weeks, and especially at this time of year, meeting in the country for birthday celebrations at bluebell time. We miss them very much.

We have managed to keep our shopping to a minimum, with trips every 2 or 3 days to our wonderful Corner Shop. We have only been once to a supermarket in a fortnight and shop at a local farm shop where possible. We have ordered a takeaway once a week for the past three weeks to support the excellent local caterers who deliver in the town. I have donated my very underused sewing machine to the the Scrubs effort.

My own life is one of privilege. I have a pension income, and while the letting of the annexe was central to my annual income projection we can survive without it. My husband works part time from home as CEO of an international organisation which is saving a lot of money at the moment by holding meetings remotely, with members from across the world unable to travel. I work in my allotment, cultivate seeds for planting out at home,  contribute to a WhatsApp sketch group every day, and work on creative writing projects with a weekly remote meeting. I play with my grandson and help with the family's day to day needs. We share cooking and meal times and take our daily walks together. It is as if we are on an extended holiday in the bright Spring. Birds are nesting in the garden. We have so far spotted in the garden brimstone, holy blue, red admiral, orange tip and cabbage white butterflies. We walk on the Downs and in the woods where the bluebells are beginning to bloom and the wild life is beginning to be less shy and often surprised to see us in the new quiet.

My overwhelming feeling is of relief and privilege in a world where inequality in terms of housing, income and access to basic resources is becoming ever more visible as the pandemic grows. How wonderful if the outcome of this event was significant structural and global change.

Many thanks, Grace. 

Landmark moments

April 5th

An landmark day. The Queen makes a rare address to the nation. Her message of hope, her rallying call for unity, her promise of a happy ending, clashed with shocking news that our Prime Minister Boris Johnson entered hospital with worsening corona virus symptoms. We are truly a nation in crisis, our upside down world rocking wildly on its unsteady axis.

This weekend has been warm and sunny, the perfect time for that first bbq of the year with family and friends.  Instead the garden is still , only nature's musical soundscape of birdsong echoing around me, unnaturally loud in my silenced home.  

My mood is at odds with this gorgeous weather. I want my BBQ, I miss my family and friends, I want to laugh with my loved ones, play with grandchildren, I want to walk freely, without fear, visit a beach, a city,  I want to do all those things I have taken for granted for so long. 


On Sunday evening HRH Queen Elizabeth, regal as ever at 93, urges us to stay positive. Her speech evoking the blitz spirit in both words and pictures touches me, her stoicism uplifts me.  In her much heralded address she reminds us all of her younger self rallying the people of Britain during World War 2. Echoes of Vera Lynn bring tears to my eyes.  "We will meet again" is music to my ears. 

Whether this rallying call for today's generations will make a difference to those who persist in ignoring the rules, who knows?  I sense maybe this parallel with another era of crisis and chaos, one still within living memories , could drawn a useful shape around   our disembodied lives, give us hope and direction for the future.  This is not the first time normality has vanished yet the country, the world,  righted itself again. 

Britain is rightly renowned throughout the world for our democracy and civil liberties. A privilege we have taken for granted. As a society, as a culture, we cherish our freedoms. Our police do not traditionally carry guns.  Our landscape, our beaches, our countryside, our cities, are our playgrounds.  To find ourselves stripped of our liberties is almost beyond comprehension.

 Our society lives by common consent but it is hard for all to willingly consent to this sudden loss of free will. Dissent can be heard all around as well as discontent.  But if individuals do not conform, for however good a reason,  how do we collectively cope, how will we ever find our way back or out of this.

The history 'lesson' and the moral of the past in the Queen's speech was, to me,  a salutary one, a necessary moment to resolve wobbling sense of cultural unity. A promise that we can and will come through this together. That there will be a happy ending. 

But then, a shocking headline. Boris Johnson is in hospital. The most important and most protected man in the land has been proven vulnerable, unable to shake off this virus unaided.  News veers between the Queen's address and sudden, deeply disturbing, development. The Government assures us it is business as normal. So obviously unrealistic broadcasters struggle to convey this with any reassurance.  

A day of multi/mixed emotions. Frustration, malaise, depression, pride and shock.  Once the dust has settled from this momentous day I will spend time with my reflections and experiences of living in lockdown Britain. There is time ahead to do that but I feel this landmark day. April 5th ,  merits its own post.   Time has acquired a new dimension.   The long Easter weekend is only days away and  yet to me minutes can seem like hours, days turn into weeks, and I do not dare think beyond a week.  

Each day brings it s own challenges as the road we travel takes unexpected twists and turns, steep ascents and sharp, sudden drops. Who knows what lies around the next corner, the next bend in the road.................