June 25th 2020
Today is the hottest day of an already hot year. Record breaking UV levels. The temperature is well over 30, 'dropping' only to 28 at night. Even I am too hot.
The weather is our national obsession at the best of times and this year has been the worst of times. Soaring temperatures have shone blazing spotlights into our lives under lockdown. In the early weeks glorious spring sunshine helped me cope, I have a large garden and live surrounded by glorious countryside.
The sunshine helped those furloughed to make the most of their unexpected free time cycling, walking, gardening. It brought out the best in people, literally creating a sunny mood in an otherwise despairing nation.
It failed those working in the NHS, care homes, those with no garden, those shielding who could not venture outside, those with limited resources. The heat inside PPE, in confined spaces, for those elderly or vulnerable, for the disposed, became an additional burden.
Forced by the glare of the sun to stay inside today, I have taken the opportunity to review myriad diary accounts of lives under lockdown. Some sent to me personally but many more I have been privileged to read through working for Mass Observation and living histories projects.
I am struck as much by what is not here as what is. The silences of those hidden behind closed doors. Entries sent to the universities in response to the annual May 12th 'diary day' request are labelled only by gender, age and location so it is hard to address race unless the author has chosen to mention it and most do not.
However, despite every possible remedy, there is little doubt that the voices here reflect the experiences of the economically secure, the over 50s and most from London and the 'wealthy' south. Those who have the luxury of time to write, those in tune with the need to preserve knowledge of this time for the future. So many people have no time or are of necessity focused only in the present moment. These are the silent invisible ones.
BAME people are finding a voice in the face of one too many murders, one too many insults, and the cruel truth that this ghastly virus appears to affect them more than white people and that research as to why is cruelly lacking.
Black Lives Matter protest in Brighton, dignified, peaceful and perfectly social distanced.
I am struck by how much Boris Johnson's rhetoric represents those of us who already have a voice. People like me. White, economically secure, educated professionals.
Although as a proud misogynist our PM's lockdown speech in March stressing how awful it was to take away 'the ancient unalienable right of freeborn people in the United Kingdom to go to the pub' clearly demonstrated his disregard of us women, overall in his discourse to a national audience he predominately addresses 'us', the great British public , as those like myself, white, economically secure, educated professionals. Yet 'we ' are not everyone. 'we' are not representative of Britain in 2020.
I cannot make the invisible visible, sadly. I can and will in a later post describe the narrative themes of those lives I do have, articulate, eloquent accounts of the ups and downs of life under lockdown. All invaluable and truly welcome. As long as history does not forget the missing.
Too much too soon?
Currently working on a forthcoming 'lives under lockdown' post I am distracted by the heat. It is making me edgy, tired, achy. Instead of collating diary entries from the past months I find myself musing on the present.
Although I do feel my life is ebbing back, I am also aware there is much to watch out for. Whilst major relaxations of lockdown come into force on July 4th , in the relentless glare of todays sun the sheer complexity of keeping ourselves safe is hard to decipher
The crowds on the beaches today are past caring about social distancing. The new 'rules'-which will not be policed anyway- cite 1 metre plus only if 2 metres is not possible. Not that it is fine because it is hot to sit on someone elses beach towel.
I simply do not know what to think other than to appreciate what I have whilst I have it. There is no doubt this lethal virus is still here. The trials of vaccines are just that, trials. But, on the plus side, coronavirus does appear to less contagious in the open air/ in the heat so this sunshine is a bonus, giving me breathing space to enjoy greater freedoms of lockdown easing in the relative safety of the outside and whilst the country's infection rate remains low.
Enough musing. An evening sunset walk in the glorious countryside beckons. Tomorrow is another day.
Today is the hottest day of an already hot year. Record breaking UV levels. The temperature is well over 30, 'dropping' only to 28 at night. Even I am too hot.
The weather is our national obsession at the best of times and this year has been the worst of times. Soaring temperatures have shone blazing spotlights into our lives under lockdown. In the early weeks glorious spring sunshine helped me cope, I have a large garden and live surrounded by glorious countryside.
The sunshine helped those furloughed to make the most of their unexpected free time cycling, walking, gardening. It brought out the best in people, literally creating a sunny mood in an otherwise despairing nation.
It failed those working in the NHS, care homes, those with no garden, those shielding who could not venture outside, those with limited resources. The heat inside PPE, in confined spaces, for those elderly or vulnerable, for the disposed, became an additional burden.
Forced by the glare of the sun to stay inside today, I have taken the opportunity to review myriad diary accounts of lives under lockdown. Some sent to me personally but many more I have been privileged to read through working for Mass Observation and living histories projects.
I am struck as much by what is not here as what is. The silences of those hidden behind closed doors. Entries sent to the universities in response to the annual May 12th 'diary day' request are labelled only by gender, age and location so it is hard to address race unless the author has chosen to mention it and most do not.
However, despite every possible remedy, there is little doubt that the voices here reflect the experiences of the economically secure, the over 50s and most from London and the 'wealthy' south. Those who have the luxury of time to write, those in tune with the need to preserve knowledge of this time for the future. So many people have no time or are of necessity focused only in the present moment. These are the silent invisible ones.
BAME people are finding a voice in the face of one too many murders, one too many insults, and the cruel truth that this ghastly virus appears to affect them more than white people and that research as to why is cruelly lacking.
Black Lives Matter protest in Brighton, dignified, peaceful and perfectly social distanced.
I am struck by how much Boris Johnson's rhetoric represents those of us who already have a voice. People like me. White, economically secure, educated professionals.
Although as a proud misogynist our PM's lockdown speech in March stressing how awful it was to take away 'the ancient unalienable right of freeborn people in the United Kingdom to go to the pub' clearly demonstrated his disregard of us women, overall in his discourse to a national audience he predominately addresses 'us', the great British public , as those like myself, white, economically secure, educated professionals. Yet 'we ' are not everyone. 'we' are not representative of Britain in 2020.
I cannot make the invisible visible, sadly. I can and will in a later post describe the narrative themes of those lives I do have, articulate, eloquent accounts of the ups and downs of life under lockdown. All invaluable and truly welcome. As long as history does not forget the missing.
Too much too soon?
Currently working on a forthcoming 'lives under lockdown' post I am distracted by the heat. It is making me edgy, tired, achy. Instead of collating diary entries from the past months I find myself musing on the present.
Although I do feel my life is ebbing back, I am also aware there is much to watch out for. Whilst major relaxations of lockdown come into force on July 4th , in the relentless glare of todays sun the sheer complexity of keeping ourselves safe is hard to decipher
The crowds on the beaches today are past caring about social distancing. The new 'rules'-which will not be policed anyway- cite 1 metre plus only if 2 metres is not possible. Not that it is fine because it is hot to sit on someone elses beach towel.
I simply do not know what to think other than to appreciate what I have whilst I have it. There is no doubt this lethal virus is still here. The trials of vaccines are just that, trials. But, on the plus side, coronavirus does appear to less contagious in the open air/ in the heat so this sunshine is a bonus, giving me breathing space to enjoy greater freedoms of lockdown easing in the relative safety of the outside and whilst the country's infection rate remains low.
Enough musing. An evening sunset walk in the glorious countryside beckons. Tomorrow is another day.
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