Today
is, apparently, the last day of the daily ritual of applauding the front line
workers at 8pm. Is this a significant
moment? Why are we stopping? The virus is still killing and infecting and,
while the numbers are decreasing, there is no real end in sight for Covid-19 in
Spain.
I can understand the need for progress and
also the need to give confidence and assurance to a population that is truly
fed up with the lockdown. But, and it’s
a big but, the virus is not confined by borders or political
pronouncements. Reactions to the virus
can be spun, but the reality of infection and death transcend spin – as I fear
we will discover in a couple of weeks time when the full effects of the
loosening of the restrictions become clear.
As the weather gets steadily warmer people
are becoming more relaxed about the dangers of the virus. Youngsters are acting as if they are immune
and the very young, usually with their parents, are rarely masked. I think that there is a real problem with the
basic knowledge of transmission. There
was a very revealing piece of film where a group of people went to a buffet
with one of the group having a small amount of colourless fluorescent paint
cupped in his hand. The group had their
meal and then they were checked with a UV light to see how many had evidence of
the paint. It was everywhere: hands,
faces, tables, glasses, clothes, everywhere!
If kids are asymptomatic you cannot expect them to behave in a way that is
going to limit infection. And without
testing we are running on a prayer anyway.
I
took my part in the last 8pm clap for the front line workers. It may be my sentimentality, but I thought
that there were more of us this evening than usual. I wonder if our little neighbourhood will
take any notice of the ‘last’ element of the clap and just go on doing it
regardless. After all, the thanks are
still due because the situation is still there.
And even if we didn’t have the bloody Covid-19, health workers are worth
applauding anyway!
Tomorrow
is the penultimate video lesson of the Catalan course that has been interrupted
by the virus. I cannot, with the best
will in the world, say that the lessons have been a success and I think that
most learners and teachers have written off the rest of this year. As our little school is for adult education I
think that many of the ‘students’ are apprehensive about social distancing and
they have written off the year already.
We have been offered (as far as I can
tell) free access to the course for next year, except were we to want to
progress, our school does not offer the next level in Catalan so we would have
to go to another centre. Don’t get me
wrong, my level of Catalan is nowhere near the level that we are ‘doing’ this
year, never mind about going up a level.
Tomorrow is conversation! I hope to go that there is at least one other
student joining the class to take some of the pressure off me. You see, even though I am ritually humiliated
in these classes, I do not stop going.
There is a part of the fellow teacher feeling for our tutor, one has to
give one’s support even if it is not exactly what one wants to do.
Let the linguistic mispronunciation fall
where it will, I will soldier on. Or I
could try and do a bit of work and a generous amount of revision?
Nah!
Wing it!
