I said the Covid-19 Diaries series was more or less done and it is. But I also said anyone who still sent contributions would see them published. Bill Taylor is a different matter - he simply includes me when firing off his daily chunk of life under lockdown in Toronto to Facebook. I've reproduced 25 here and am glad I have done so, but Bill and I agree the series has probably run its course.
Still time and space, though, for more thoughts from my home town of Shildon, Co Durham and my great friend Pete Sixsmith, retired teacher (head of history, no less), returning paper boy and suffering fellow Sunderland supporter ....
SMALL TOWN VIEW (3)
And so it goes on – life and the worry and fear of our new colleague Covid-19, a colleague who could well be with us for a long time, making return appearances if we fail to take steps at personal and governmental level to repulse the little blighter.
I continue to play my part. I don’t go anywhere, apart from delivering the newspapers and the afternoon walk. I wash my hands assiduously every time I come in from being out in the big wide world. I avoid close contact with people and move away from others when I see them walking towards me. I’m a good boy, I am.
But not all the time.
I touch my face, even though I know that I shouldn’t. I stand and speak to people and I’m sure that sometimes it’s less than two metres away. I go into shops more often than I did in the past in my capacity as Designated Shopper for clients of Age UK. And I have no idea whether I am carrying a clone of Covid-19 in me. I could be infecting lots and lots of people.
That’s because we don’t test much in the UK.
If you are a worker for the NHS you might get one at the local Ikea car park, but only if you have an appointment. Not much good if you are working in A and E at Darlington Memorial and you are faced with a 60-mile round trip to the Ikea store at the Metro Centre – and there’s not even a plate of Swedish meatballs to sustain you while you wait.
Because as the crisis goes on, there is the beginning of a change in mood.
The daily press conference was a bit of a softy for whichever minister was put up. Some have dealt with it well – Rishi Sunak is very impressive, others have had their moments – Matt Hancock looked as if he was on a roll until he hit a fence of Beecher’s Brook magnitude on Wednesday night, while others have been bland (Michael Gove), incompetent (Alok Sharma|) and downright arrogant (Priti Patel) - who else?. Her “I’m sorry if people think there have been PPE failing” was a gem of mendacity that patronised all those who realised that we had a desperate shortage of PPE.
She was given an easy time of it by the assorted hacks and was only seriously challenged by a man from LadBible – no, I’d never heard of it – and even that was about the rozzers being too officious with regard to social distancing. Amazingly, nobody challenged here on her “apology”.
A few days later, the hacks must have woken up and seen the furious row at the White House where the Toddler-in-Chief got himself in a nasty stand off with a reporter over his attempts to avoid answering a question. She persisted; he called her disgraceful and waved her away. The Toddler as a bully.
So when Matt Hancock came to the podium today, with that ring of confidence that those who have attended a private school exude, he may well have expected to palm off the press with his comments on social care, an area which he has studiously ignored thus far. The hacks were tame. He had the info at hand. What could possibly go wrong?
Ah, but it did. He was given a serious quizzing and stumbled and bumbled when he was asked awkward questions. None of those present seemed impressed by the offer of a badge for those working in the social care sector, a job that his cabinet colleague, Ms Patel, had decided was low skilled and therefore not open to immigrant labour.
The hacks came back at him; he blustered and sounded flustered and for the first time I saw genuine cracks in the Government's projection of their policy.
For far too long we have been treated to phrases like “we have been working round the clock” or “straining every sinew” in order to get the kind of basic equipment that could have been accessible a month ago but wasn’t as it was felt that it might go away and leave us alone and we wouldn’t have to buy lots and lots of things that might just go to waste and besides it was the NHS that came first.
Is it just me who almost vomits when a Tory minister describes it as “our NHS”? No, thought not..
The sheer vacuity of this awful Government is now being exposed for all to see – or at least those who have not lost their lives due to it.
Meanwhile, back in south-west Durham, life bumbles on. The supermarkets still have queues but they are shorter and better organised. The buses are still empty and Arriva are using all kinds of vehicles on the No 1 route that passes Sixsmith Towers. We have had double deckers, gas powered models and tiny Frequentas that usually scuttle around Darlington.
The local shops are quite busy. Both the town butchers are ticking over nicely and have stepped in to sell bread since the bakers put the shutters up. Judging by the number of bottles I saw in the recycling bins on Friday, the offies are as busy as ever, with wine clearly the favourite tipple.
But there is a sense that folk are allowing things to slip a bit. There is more traffic on the main road and the pavement outside the house has more people passing. Walks appear to be more frequent and I have seen groups of more than two on several occasions in the last few days. The fine weather has played a part in this slackening off but I wonder whether some folk are beginning to question the Government's strategy and are taking matters into their own hands?
On a more cheerful note, admire Theo the (very) friendly cat who I often see on the paper round and the goat, who is a close personal friend now and has been known to nibble my latex gloves. Both could probably handle a press conference better than President Trump and/or Ms Patel.
Recent Comments