As I
had to replenish my meds I visited the pharmacy this morning, giving me a
representative view of the effects of the loosening of the lockdown in respect
of children under 14.
There were plenty of kids around and with
the exception of one child none of them was wearing a mask and neither was the
parent. The kids were on scooters and
bikes and in one incidence on a skateboard.
The paseo was fairly full and there were people on the beach. The fact that this is notable in a seaside
town speaks volumes for what we have been going through!
Perhaps it is naive to suppose otherwise
but the kids acted as though there was nothing wrong and that there had been
nothing wrong. If that totally understandable
reaction of the kids is transferred to the parents, or even more disturbingly
has come from the parents, then the virus results in a fortnight are going to
give pause for thought.
If things go according to the plan
outlined by the Spanish government, then next week we may see a further
loosening of the restrictions, and adults will be able to exercise outside
too. What exactly that might mean is not
clear at the moment – but the idea of being able to go for a bike ride at least
would be something to look forward to.
Whatever happens in the immediate future,
I think the idea of breaking down the in-house seclusion will gain an
inevitable momentum that will be very difficult to reign in again.
There are hundreds of people in Spain dying
every day from Covid-19, the crisis is nowhere near over, but the mind set is
looking towards some sort of conclusion.
And that is dangerous.
Meanwhile
in Britain, tomorrow sees the return of the incompetent politician who went out
of his way to get infected with Corvid-19 and who ‘leads’ a government that
dithered at the start of the crisis ensuring the grotesque figures of infected
and dead that we have now.
One wonders how he will stage his return
and then how he will divide his time between trying to explain what has gone on
and working towards a no-deal Brexit. I
shudder for the future of my country.
Talking of shuddering, Cummins the creepy
power behind the empty throne is a participating member of what should be a
purely scientific advisory committee.
The revelation in The Guardian about his membership over the weekend has
sparked a controversy, but given the way that this government reacts to such
things, I wonder just how much traction such a revelation will have.
The
continuing story of printing out the final draft copy of The Coast of Memory
has now reached epic proportions. The
problem is the ink. God alone knows what
sort of depraved electronic jiggery-pokery there is inside a printer that
limits the usefulness of the ink in cartridges, but the woeful capacity of the
replacements that I have used in the printing is beyond astonishing. I suspect that there is some artificial
limiting device that is able to override the obvious and audible reserves of
ink in the cartridge and ensure that it is inoperable. I refuse to give up, but the last printing
was less than satisfactory.
I might even end up going to a commercial
outlet. Except, of course, all of those
are closed at the moment. Ah, the
travails of the would be publisher are never over!
And
tomorrow is the next on line Catalan meeting!
