Here we are at day 150 of Covid isolation from the world. FFS that’s five months of house arrest. And as a result what has changed? Absolutely bugger all.
We still have a government which is interested only in lining its own nests, and those of its mates, and who can’t – more likely won’t – see what’s important in the big picture (see my post of a few days ago). So they start loosening things up, to get the economy moving. They want eateries to reopen, and bribe us to use them. Then moan because we’re obese! “Free burgers and free bullying for all.”
No wonder the number of infections goes up and there’s a return to restrictions. Why should we be surprised? Well we shouldn’t, as this is essentially only a re-release of “Brexit Fiasco – the game without rules”. So, yes, let’s not forget we yet have the fallout from Brexit to negotiate over the next 18+ months. Not so much a car crash as a railroad train/road train crash.
At a more personal level things are much the same as well. We are still muddling along; still very much in lockdown. Although we are told we can do things, neither Noreen nor I are at all comfortable with the idea of going out and about, even with masks. Which means procrastination and bone-idleness continue to be the order of the day.
So, a few things (good and not so good) that have happened since my last report on day 125.
Good
Not So Good
I’ve made some small family history discoveries. Amongst them, in 1901 one of my 2nd-great-uncles was Butler to the Dowager Countess of Londonderry.
Being able to sit around in the nude: who wants to wear clothes in this heat?
Our friend Tom is back and getting the garden straightened out.
Home-grown tomatoes, marrow and chillies.
Continuing good food. As Noreen says, our g-g-grandfathers would think we’re living like the gentry. And why not? We deserve some consolation!
Having Tom around, lovely though it is, is disruptive; neither of us gets anything much done while he’s here.
Continuing episodes of “Cat and Mouse: the Soap Opera”. S4E9: Live Mouse in the Study. S5E17: Dead Rat under Desk.
I’ve been sleeping incredibly badly.
I’ve an annoying boil under my left jaw. At least that’s what the doctor thinks it is.
As a consequence of these last two, the depression doesn’t improve and there’s no “get up and go” to be found.
Yesterday’s haul: the first marrow and another batch of tomatoes
So I wonder what happens next? Will I be able to report some welcome improvements in my next report on (maybe) day 200? I must admit doing so would be a great relief! But I won’t put the Champagne on ice just yet.
Today is Day 125 of my house arrest. Yet again not a lot has changed since my report on day 100.
At a country level we continue our journey to Hell in a handcart, thanks to the lies and selfishness of our so-called government. Yes, you’re right, I have absolutely no respect or trust in any of them. And a large swathe of the British public continue in their stupidity. But hey, we’re doing well; the USA is far worse, they’re totally out of control is what it looks like from here.
At a more personal level we continue muddling along through lockdown. Procrastination and depression seem to be the order of the day, although nice sunny days do bring some noticeable relief, even if it is temporary. Nonetheless too many things are not getting done, and it seems to be impossible to unlock the wheels.
So, a few things (good and not so good) that have happened since my last report on day 100.
Good
Not So Good
Rain. It was badly needed although the dull grey wasn’t welcome.
Our Alder Blackthorn is absolutely buzzing with bees; earlier mostly bumblebees, now mainly small solitary ones.
Beautiful pristine Brimstone butterflies: 2 females, then a male. Probably the result of the caterpillars fed up on the Alder Blackthorn.
The supermarket have fresh blackcurrants. I love blackcurrants!
Jean, who we’re helping with shopping via our supermarket deliveries, sent us a lovely bouquet as a thank you. [See below.]
First apples are growing on our new trees [see below], and we have some huge tomatoes beginning to ripen.
Dull, grey, miserable weather. Although the rain was needed the dull wasn’t.
Depression. It just doesn’t get any better. Somewhere there’s a magic switch to turn it off; but where?
The stupidity, and selfish lying of our government. They care only about lining their own pockets.
How many cats have next door got now? They will have very woolly, sheep-like, cats but not look after their coats. And of course, none of them will be neutered.
Back pain. It’s the result of a 35 year old injury and idleness resulting from this and my previously crocked knees.
Procrastination. Very much the result of the depression, and to a lesser extent the back pain.
Left: Yellow Alstroemeria from a bouquet of flowers.
Right: One of the first apples on our new trees.
Talking to people in the healthcare arena they’re saying that little is going to loosen up (at least in terms of the way healthcare is operating at present) until there is a good Covid-19 vaccine in widespread use. Their, and my, assessment is this isn’t going to be until at least the end of 2021. So don’t hold your breath.
I still reckon we’re going to see quite a bit in the way of a second wave starting in August; fuelled by the indigenous idiots going out on the town (restrictions now having been eased); returning from holiday in “who knows where”; and schools going back in September. This second wave could well continue up until Christmas. I just hope I’m wrong!
So, like many, I’m getting to the point where the outside world is just too scary; and all in all I expect to stay in isolation for a while to come.
But with luck things might have improved by the time of my next report, which I’m scheduling for Day 150. Meanwhile, be good and enjoy the summer as best you can in safety.
Today is Day 100 of my house arrest. Nothing much has changed since my last report on day 80 – and that includes the stupidity of the British public and the government.
Things are sort of muddling along here in their own desultory lockdown way with not a lot getting done except procrastination. Basically with no extra-mural excitements (where there ever any?) the depression is exerting its muscles. It’s all very demoralising.
Anyway, here are a few things (good and not so good) that have happened since my last report.
Good
Not So Good
Finally managed to get the watering system set up for all the tubs on the patio, plus the tomatoes and marrows.
The quality of English strawberries and asparagus has been outstanding this year.
The willingness of the Kent Family History Society hive mind in helping me unlock one of the mysteries in my family history.
On a whim I ordered some peonies from Waitrose Florist. Not only were they available for next day delivery but they were really stunning. (Sorry no photo, see depression above.)
I’ve been cutting my hair really short. After an initial close shave it’s grown back and is now being kept at 10-15mm. Unexpectedly I actually like it.
As mentioned above, the depression doesn’t get any better, and neither does my back. So I’m still failing to mow the lawn – but Noreen has managed to do it twice.
How have the last couple of months been so windy? It’s very un-summery.
Unusually a couple of weeks ago our supermarket delivery was 45 minutes after the booked slot. Irritating because it was lunchtime.
Everyone going on about BLM and statues. Just don’t get me started.
I’ve got an annoying little stye in my right eye.
Boy Cat chasing grass and enjoying the sunshine with the humans
[Click the image for larger view on Flickr]
I hope to provide a further progress report on either Day 120 (Thursday 9 July) or Day 125 (Tuesday 14 July). Meanwhile, have fun!
Over on my Twitter, I was challenged by Glynis Paxton to post seven pictures of my life. The rules were simple: one picture a day for a week; no people; no explanations; each day nominate one person to do the same.
Here are the seven photographs (all taken by me) I chose, in the order I posted them. Those who know me well will say they don’t reflect what I do and am. But each of them tells a story, or several, which I’ve noted below each image. [Click the images if you want large views on Flickr]
Day 1
This is our cat Tilly when she was much younger dozing on my desk. These are two things which are central to my life: cats and my desk. Apart from my student years and 20s I’ve always lived with cats; we had cats at home and as soon as Noreen and I got our own house we re-homed our first two cats (all our cats have been re-homes). My desk in the study is where I worked for much of the last 10 years before I retired (trips into an office dwindled to about one day a fortnight), from where I ran the Anthony Powell Society for 18 years, and where I still spend much of my time.
Day 2
Although I’ve never stayed in the Mermaid Inn at Rye (it’s very expensive) I have drunk there and it does trigger a number of memories and many stories. I love Rye, and have known it since I was about 4 years old and it is one of those places I love and immediately feel at home. The heart of the town (the area around the church and Mermaid Street) is still picturesque. Over several years we stayed at the upmarket B&B opposite the top of Mermaid Street (50 yards beyond the photo) and became friends with the then owners. The half-timbered building also speaks to a love of history and old buildings, as well as photography.
Day 3
I found this spider whilst doing some tidying up in the garden this Spring. I’ve never seen one before, so it was an interesting discovery for someone interested in the natural world. My new, expensive, camera meant I could get this capture easily without scaring the spider away. Although I’m not a great gardener (I blame my bad back) I do enjoy the garden full of trees and shrubs as somewhere for the local wildlife – from spiders to foxes.
Day 4
I called this photograph “Deckchair Love”. It is another which encapsulates a couple of “stories” besides photography. It was taken at Lyme Regis which is another place we both love and have stayed quite a number of times; and it was here that in Summer 1983 I started my recovery from Glandular Fever. In fact we like almost the whole of the South Dorset and South Devon coast. This also reflects my slightly zany sense of humour (hence, in part, the title of this blog).
Day 5
This is the cottage in Rolvenden, Kent where my great-grandfather Stephen Marshall (the youngest of five children) was born in November 1849. Until he moved away (to Ashford and then Ramsgate) the Marshall line had lived around the Rolvenden, Benenden, Biddenden triangle at least since 1700. They were AgLabs so moved around depending on where the work was. This is another area I love, spreading from the Weald across to Rye, the Romney Marsh and Dungeness.
Day 6
My final photograph is of a Dendrobium orchid. I like having houseplants, and orchids have both pretty and long-lasting flowers. Contrary to popular belief, Phaelanopsis orchids especially are not that difficult; if you buy (or are given) one don’t throw it out when it finishes flowering as they are easy to get to flower again (see my instructions).
Day 7
This is Stondon Massey churchyard in Essex. It is one of those quiet, country churchyards full of dappled sunshine and birdsong. It’s an area which includes another of my favourite churches, Greensted-juxta-Ongar. And I was brought up not far the other side of Epping Forest and the county boundary at Waltham Cross – somewhere else steeped in history which I should write about properly. But Stondon Massey is more than this. It was where one of my “heroes”, the Tudor composer William Byrd (c.1540-1623) retired in his early 50s. Byrd was a member of the Chapel Royal while being a recusant Catholic (he was fined a number of times) and Stondon Massey was close to Ingatestone Hall, home of his Catholic patron Sir John Petre. Byrd’s sacred works are the most magical music of that period. He may be buried at Stondon Massey; no-one is certain.
So there you are. Something about lots of bits (but by no means all) of me and my life captured in seven of my photographs.
Today is Day 80 of my house arrest. And nothing much has changed since my last report on day 60. It’s all still rather tedious, although most things seem to be trotting along and not as fraught as even three weeks ago.
The great British public are being ever more stupid. Talking to a friend in south London (New Cross) the other day, he says taht everyone there things it’s all over and life will resume next week. And the idiots think that because the roads are empty the speed limits don’t apply; so the police are seeing a significant number of stops for traffic offences (mostly speeding). I really don’t know how we get some common sense into the heads of these people.
Anyway, I thought I’d document a few things (good and not so good) that have happened over the last three weeks or so …
Good
Not So Good
Our friend Tom is OK; he disappeared from the radar in early February. It turns out he wasn’t well then (not Covid-related) and needed some time out; he’s now OK and sitting about home getting terminally bored.
The quiet is wonderful (although there is still too much background noise, especially now the weather has improved).
Our new apple trees look to be thriving; we might even get a handful of apples this year.
Tomatoes and marrows planted out in the gro-beds on our patio.
We have even more roses in bloom, including right to top of silver birch: see my post here and also below.
A while ago I stole an idea from our friends Jean and Helen who had discovered Letterbox Flowers: regular delivery of a bouquet packed in a box which will fit through most letterboxes.
So every month we get a bouquet, sent on overnight delivery, beautifully packed and just waiting to spring into full bloom. The packaging is impressive with the flowers picked while still in bud and with the larger, more easily damaged blooms protected with little socks – what a fantastic idea that is! (See right for how the flowers are packed.)
This is our second monthly delivery. To be honest I wasn’t very impressed with our first delivery as the flowers didn’t seem to hold up well (but that may be the way we handled them). But this month’s is just fabulous …
This is 2-3 days after we received them. They look wonderful! Even Noreen is impressed, and that’s from someone who’s parents were florists and who grew up with floristry.
Letterbox Flowers have a variety of options from a selection of one-off bouquets to a year-long weekly subscription. For my money they aren’t out of the way expensive: a decent bouquet from a good florist would cost around the same (at least in London).
[As always, click the images larger views on my Flickr]
This fuchsia struggles on as a small standard in a
shallow planter; and it has survived the winter
unprotected although in a fairly sheltered spot
No apologies for another shot of the absolutely glorious
Buff Beauty which is ramping up through our biggest
silver birch: a profusion of so many flowers some of
the stems are threatening to break under the weight
Like all the dog roses in our garden this is another
sucker from an unknown rose. We appreciate the dog
roses as much as the cultivars, so where possible tend
to leave them to clamber naturally through the trees
Rose (variety forgotten) flowering 15 feet up one of
our silver birch trees
And finally a different sort of flower …
Birthday Cat: Tilly is 7 years old today (as near as we can know),
not that you would think it. She’s still a big kitten (when she chooses),
inquisitive (as here, investigating the new planters), picky, skittish
and a rascal in her own quiet way
Today is Day 60 of quarantine for me. Yes, I’ve not been off the premises in the last 60 days; Noreen has been out just a handful of times, mostly just to the postbox.
It’s all a bit tedious, although everything seems to have settled down into a new non-rhythm – things aren’t as fraught was they were 6 weeks ago, although the thought of either of us getting this lurgy still induces a fit of the horrors.
Anyway, just by way of a small celebration, I though I would document half a dozen good, and the same number of not so good, things which have happened here in the last 60 days.
Good
Not So Good
We’re managing to eat extremely well – probably better than normal – to keep the spirits up!
I’ve now been in lockdown since midday on 12 March, when I got home from my annual diabetic eye check (which I was surprised wasn’t cancelled). That’s 24 days and counting. I thought I’d just make a few brief notes about the good and the not so good recent happenings.
Not So Good
Being in a higher risk category, which brings on fearfulness and self-isolation.
Being unable to do a supermarket shop, because our decent supermarkets are either a bus ride or a taxi ride away (‘cos we don’t drive), and that feels too risky for either of us.
The total inability to book a supermarket delivery, any supermarket delivery. And when you do, 50% of what you order isn’t available.
The almost total absence of some commodities like bread flour and long-life milk.
An inability to sign up for a “veg box” delivery.
The nice sunny weather means I shall have to do some gardening, as much as my back will allow …
… because the garden is untidy and is threatening to get away from us while we can’t get anyone to work on it.
Two (Arab-looking) guys wandering down the road this morning shoulder to shoulder, the younger wearing a mask and talking to his mobile. Totally oblivious to what 6 feet is.
The government’s pathetic response to the crisis: too little, too late; inadequate support for healthcare workers; delayed lockdown; stupidity of expecting herd immunity; inadequate self-isolation advice for the infected; almost complete absence of testing, so they’ve no clue what is actually happening … it goes on …
All of that covered by wall-to-wall rolling TV news (which I’m mostly ignoring).
I’m missing my fortnightly massage: it does keep my damaged back working but it is also enjoyable socially too.
I know I’m not someone who is always out and about, but even so being forced to stay grounded is somewhat wearing.
The inability to rise above (or kill off) all the stupid things I (feel I) have to do so I can sit and relax and read.
A feeling of vulnerability and impending doom. Suddenly one realises one is all too mortal. And I’m unable to get my head round what it’ll be like not to be here, and not to be able to do the things I am doing.
And then one feels like a helpless mesmerised rabbit in the headlights due to the stress and anxiety which feed the depression – rinse and repeat.
Good
All the valiant and heroic NHS people, transport workers, and food supply-chain workers who are putting themselves at risk to help people and keep things moving.
There’s certainly a sense of history: that we’re living through an historic period much like the Black Death (1349) or the Great Plague of London (1665) and beginning (but only beginning) to understand what it must have been like then. Yes that’s macabre, but also interesting and in a way rather fun.
The quiet! It is just so quiet: no traffic noise, no planes in/out of Heathrow, not even many screaming kids. If you added back in a few mooing cows and whinnying horses this must be much like it was 600 years ago.
Add to that the light and air quality. The lack of traffic, planes etc. has really reduced the pollution. The air is fresh, clear and not smelling of diesel and kerosene. And the light is bright, almost with that special clear quality one is used to seeing in East Anglia.
The friend, who despite being an NHS worker with an elderly mum, is helping us by getting the odd few provisions and a bunch of flowers.
One of the supermarkets (which I won’t name) seem to have decided (how?) that I’m on the vulnerable list for deliveries. This could be useful.
Meanwhile Noreen has been able to get to the (pretty rubbish) local shops for the odd essentials.
At the beginning of all this I had managed to book several Waitrose deliveries and have struck lucky with the odd slot ere and there – so we’re doing OK for food.
It’s a lovely warm sunny Spring day today (Sunday) and the week promises to be largely the same. That means the garden is getting green and the apple blossom is coming out.
Although I’ve been retired for 10 years, I worked from home for most of the last 10 years I was working. And I still work from home on most of my current community give-back activity.
There are now a lot of people around the world who are having to work from home for the first time, and maybe wondering where to start.
There are a lot of website out there which tell you how to work from home, but I have to admit I wouldn’t be finding their hints and tips always very useful – at least initially.
Working from home isn’t rocket science, but it does need a little bit of organising and discipline. Most of it is common sense, but not always obvious common sense. So I thought I’d put together a few of my thoughts in the hope that they may help some of you. Here goes …
Working from home is brilliant … Until the cat throws up on your laptop or your neighbour decides now is the time to rebuild his house (don’t laugh, the latter happened to me!). It won’t be long before you wonder why you ever bothered going in the office.
Basically you need to treat your home workplace up as if it is your regular office.
Have a set workplace. It doesn’t matter whether it is your study, the basement or the kitchen table, as long as it is always the same place. Resist working from your bed or sofa; or in front of the TV. I used to work at my desk in the study; this became my office when I took my laptop out in the morning; and it became mine again when my laptop was put away.
It doesn’t matter whether you get dressed, spend the day in your nightshirt or even nothing, as long as you’re comfortable and aren’t having a videoconference with your group director. However some people feel more professional and work better if they’re wearing reasonable day clothes.
If you’re spending the day in your pyjamas, don’t go out in them! If you need to pop to the corner shop, the post-box or to collect the kids, do please put on jeans and a t-shirt.
Know when to “log on” and “log off”. Try to have a regular start and stop time. If possible use the same schedule as you would in the office; you’ll probably stretch it a bit at both ends but you should still get some extra time to yourself as you’ll not be commuting. I used to start about 8am and stop no later than 6pm. Do not be tempted to either lie-in or keep working into the evening; you can prevent the lie-in by having 9am team conference calls.
On the other hand you do have the flexibility to work when you’re most productive, whether that’s 5am or midnight, although this must not be an excuse to work longer hours. You’ll still need to be available during office hours, so you still need that regular schedule.
Remember, if you’re sick, then you’re sick and shouldn’t be working – just like you wouldn’t go in the office.
Keep to your normal time management method; this will help you keep focus. If you’ve never been taught time management, find an online course and start now. Try to avoid taking a quick break to do the laundry/bath the cat/pop to the supermarket/whatever. It all too easily becomes an hour and a half.
You might want to have a separate phone number for your work – possibly a second mobile. Likewise a separate laptop and email address.
If you don’t have the technology you need (whether it’s a new laptop, or printer, or a piece of software) nag your boss until you get it. Without it you will not be optimally productive.
Communicate, communicate, communicate. In fact, over-communicate. Ensure your boss and your colleagues know you’re there, and you’re being productive. All it needs is the odd phone call, an instant message or two a day, or emailing in that special report you wrote.
Keeping in contact with other humans is allowed – preferably by phone or video, rather than just by email. If nothing else my wife and I talked briefly on the phone at some point most days. Instant messaging can also help a lot, especially if everyone you need to talk to is on the same platform. But voice is best.
Don’t be frightened of phone/video meetings – they’re just like normal meetings, with maybe a bit more discipline, except you can’t spill coffee in Sharon’s lap.
If you’re having a phone/video meeting, remember that you need to circulate any papers in advance by email.
If you’re having a videoconference ensure you know how to share your screen so you can display your visuals and the whiteboard.
Look out of the window. I found I did this quite a bit during 1-2-1 phone calls (and boring teleconferences) and I did quite a lot of garden birdwatching (no, feathered kind!) this way.
In my opinion do not have music on, or the radio, or the TV. Despite what you might think you will concentrate better if it is quiet and there are no distractions. If you must, catch up on TV news at lunchtime.
Do not be tempted to look at social media. I found that easy as I had a separate laptop and mobile phone.
Do take proper breaks; refill your tea/coffee/juice; and go to the loo. Just ration the biscuits!
Also ensure you stop for lunch, if only for 20 minutes. But do not waste time preparing and cooking a meal: either have a soup or sandwich type lunch, or prepare food the night before. This was something I found hard too do; with no-one to sit with at lunch it was too easy to grab some bread and cheese and eat it at my desk.
If there are other people at home with you, set some ground rules, ensure they respect that you’re working, and they know what your routine is. If they’re children, make sure you work out in advance how to keep them amused and out of your hair. Do have joint lunch or breaks, but keep them to a normal length.
Those of you who are seasoned home workers will doubtless not agree with everything I’ve said, and have different things which help you. That’s good. The moral is that ultimately you have to find the way that works best for you – for me that was being totally focussed. YMMV.
Eccentric looks at life through the thoughts of a retired working thinker