LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 26 – Good Friday in Holy Week, 10th APRIL

As an Anglican atheist it may come as a surprise that it is today that the restrictions on movement have hit me most.  I do not go out of my way to visit churches during the year, but Good Friday (for reasons about which I am not entirely sure, see above re. atheism) is one of the day on which I make every effort to visit a church, to go inside, to sit down for a few moments and think.

     Toni has given up trying to understand my attitude and now merely shrugs with something approaching disdain when I voice my predilections.  For whatever reasons I want to visit a church today and I can’t.  And I miss it.

     I have tried the idea of the virtual tour, but that does not even remotely touch the spot in my psyche that demands a touch of the ecclesiastic, because it is not just the look of the place to which I respond.

     Although the sort of Anglican atheism that I espouse is ‘Low Church’ my background in St Augustine’s Church in Rumney was ‘High Church’ in its ceremonial.  Ceremonial, I might add in which I participated as a lowly server, cassocked and surplice as an acolyte, boat boy, thurifer, book boy and eventually MC – and people wondered why I chose a Cardinal as my fancy dress when going to a party in college! 

      The point is, that my experience of churches is an olfactory one as well – there is something very distinctive about the smell of old incense lingering among the pews.  And then there is the sound.

     I favour older churches with high-beamed ancient roofs (probably extensively mucked about with in Victorian times) where there is a distinct echoing resonance when the place is empty.  In the days when churches used to be left unlocked, I would visit new and interesting examples on holidays and, if they were empty, I would go to the lectern and read a section of the bible out loud to hear the acoustic.  So for me there is a distinct sonic quality that I treasure in churches.  Even in modern examples of the architecture there is something to take out of the experience of visiting.

     I do not find most churches welcoming places, I mean I like being inside them, but people are usually a bit stand offish.  I will never forget going to early morning communion in a parish church in Edgbaston where I felt like a modern day peasant among the well-heeled congregation (you only had to look at the cars parked) and I was comprehensively ignored by priest and congregation alike.  Ho hum!  But there is something about the atmosphere and the hardness of the pews that encourages introspection.

     And I like the restraint.  At least the restraint that I find in churches in the UK.  Good Friday in the UK is a bleak time to be inside a church where images are shrouded, the altar is stripped and there are no flowers.  In Catalan churches there is the same shrouding, but there is a concentration on the gory so there is often a horrifically realistic corpse somewhere around to focus the mind: the suffering of Christ with blood and wounds is very much to the fore.

     Well, this year I’m at home and there is not even a soaring spire above the trees to be observed from the third floor.  No bells have rung, or not within the hearing of our house.  This is a day like every other in isolation.  Like every other day in Holy Week.  Identity is attached to the days, they possess none themselves.

     So, what will my poem today describe?  How will its usual identity change?  At the moment I have no idea, but, by the end of the day a draft will have been added to the Holy Week collection at smrnewpoems.blogspot.com  I hope.

Well, I’ve written a draft that is now in the blog above.

I spoke to Irene on the telephone and we are both getting progressively more worried by the attitude of our political masters who seem to be far more concerned with the economic situation of the country than with the health and life of the citizens.

     The key will be what happens after Easter.  Easter Monday is a Bank Holiday (if we are still concerned by such things) and the National Government seems to be concerned to get people back to work.  Any diminution in the stringency of the lockdown will have a disproportionate effect and will weaken the overall population’s dedication to the lockdown and there will be a progressive disinclination to behave properly.  And then an increase in death.

     Perhaps I am being unduly pessimistic, but the next couple of weeks are going to be crucial to the way the crisis develops and I lack faith in the politics of it all!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 25 – Maundy Thursday in Holy Week, 9th APRIL

Yesterday I was shown disturbing pictures of the build up of traffic in Madrid suggesting that numbers of people were taking advantage (how appropriate that word now sounds) of the ‘holiday’ period to escape from the city to the coast and to second homes.  While I can fully understand the need to find something more congenial than the cramped inside of a city during a pandemic, as someone living in a costal resort, exactly the sort of place that city dwellers target during holidays, I have to pray that Barcelona does not follow the lead of Madrid!

     To be fair, Barcelona does not appear to have followed other parts of Spain, and the indications of traffic flow are markedly lower in Catalonia than in other parts of the country.  But tomorrow, with the Bank Holiday of Good Friday and the whole Easter weekend and Easter Monday, the temptation to get out and take the sun in the freedom of a coastal resort might be too much to resist.  I sincerely hope that Barcelona has not looked at the slackness of Madrid and thought what the hell, what’s good for the goose etc. and determined to come and visit us tomorrow.

     I read this morning that the head of the National Trust in Britain has issued a statement reinforcing the advice of not visiting either the buildings in the Trust or the open spaces.  I wait to see if this advice will be followed.

     Again, I do know that we are privileged in terms of space: Toni can be working on his remote distance learning course on the computer in the living room, whereas I can be working on my computer on the third floor- two distinct spheres of influence!  How many other couples are so fortunate!  The lure of the coast and the sea is strong, and it is tantalizingly near, I can see a scrap of sea (if I try hard) from the terrace, but has been resisted – but we are not cramped together in a small flat.

     I know that for some people the addition of danger adds a piquancy to experience and the idea that something is forbidden adds a kick of anti-establishment adrenaline, but going against the Covid-19 restrictions is more surely akin to drunk driving: you put yourself in danger but you also endanger others.  Like the tag line on the safety belt adverts in cars, “You know it makes sense!”  And, it isn’t for ever.

     But just how long will it be for people of my age?  We Baby Boomers have been speculating how long our isolation may reasonably last and the general consensus is that we will be well into the summer before restrictions are relaxed.  That is a more than sobering thought.

     In a town like Castelldefels, where our USP is a long beach, bars, restaurants and hotels, to lose Easter and a chunk or even the whole of the summer is disastrous.  I wonder just how many restaurants will re-open when they are allowed to reopen.  A few had well established take-away services before the crisis, but the rest will have had to think on their feet and find customers at a time when advertising is difficult.  Even in the best of times, the ownership of restaurants is, to put it mildly, fluid; in times of crisis?  Who knows?

     Our major shopping centre Anec Blau, was undergoing a major restructuring of a mystifying thoroughness.  Most of the shops had had to close causing economic chaos.  Construction has been postponed, the centre is not ready to reopen any time soon and the crisis must have added complications that we can only guess at.

     Castelldefels is not poor.  We have inhabitants who are very, very rich and some who are world famous e.g. Messi – but reconstruction of a thriving seaside resort will take time, effort and imagination.  And money.  Lots of money.  I shudder to think how all of that is going to be managed.

     Still, one has to be optimistic.  The most positive element in this crisis is the way that we have all rallied round the efforts of the services that are working to keep us going and to keep us healthy.  It would be a disaster beyond the crisis if that fellowship is squandered in the remaking of normality after the crisis is over.  Though, it would be wise to remember never to underestimate the stupid selfishness that a population is capable of – just look at the political trash that have been elected!

Today is National Theatre Premiere Day, or rather evening.  This evening the NT At Home is showing their production of Jane Eyre https://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/whats-on at 7.00pm UK time and 8.00pm for us and it will be available for the next week, until the next production to be aired.

     I am really looking forward to this production because it seems to be in the tradition of Nicholas Nickleby that I saw in a RSC production in London: an ensemble production which used clever theatrical devices, that only work in the theatre.  It will be interesting to gauge my reaction to genre specific techniques in another media type.  I remember a production of Macbeth with McKellen and Dench which transferred from The Other Place to the much larger venue of the Main Theatre in Stratford: it didn’t work, it needed the intimacy of a smaller venue.  But when the acclaimed production was televised, it worked again because the closeness of the camera restored the lost intimacy.

 The production was excellent, theatrical in the best sense of the word.  A small musical ensemble and a versatile company utilizing the open multi-level simple staging.  The best thing you can say about a theatrical production of a novel is, at the end of the performance, you feel like reading the novel itself.  I urge you to go to the website and see the production for yourself.  And don’t forget to leave a donation at the end of the performance if you have enjoyed it!

Today’s poem is in a half finished state, but what I have was ‘easier’ than the poem yesterday which I cant help feeling is going to be hacked around in the next stage of editing!  But that is half the fun.  If I manage to get something on the poetry blog tonight then it will be on smrnewpoems.blogspot.com

Tomorrow, Good Friday, when in all past years I have made my annual visit to a church.  Not this year.  This year is indeed, different.  So different.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 24 – Wednesday in Holy Week, 8th APRIL

 

I realise that, with all my bluff optimism, I have been affected by the lockdown!  In the poem that I wrote yesterday (smrnewpoems.blogspot.com) I actually questioned, even if rhetorically, the value of sunbathing!

     It is shocking to have to confront a possible breakdown in your worldview that can contemplate something as self-loathing as a negative approach to the appreciation of the nearest star!  It is certainly a wake up call to reassess my attitude and determine to be more positive in the future.  The idea of getting to June and July and behaving like a troglodyte is entirely unacceptable.

     If something as fundamental to my view of life is capable of mutability, then it makes me wonder what other, more subtle changes there have been in this period of self-isolation.  It would argue a self-deluding insensitivity to say that one can remain entirely stable when the world appears to be changing around you.

     The irony, of course, is that the micro world of self-isolation is unchanging and stable.  The continuing horrific catalogue of death and infection is all around us, but not part of the life that we are leading.  It is as if we are living in some sort of medieval fort with a water filled trench around us: part of our surroundings, but separated from them.

     Unlike some others, I have been entirely unable to wean myself from the news.  My addiction to the Internet radio, and more specifically Radio 4 is total.  It is at times like this that the Conservatives detestation of the BBC becomes not only partisan, but also self-defeating.  At times of National Crisis we united around the BBC as a voice of and to the Nation.  I certainly do not look towards the Conservatives and their slavish news lap dogs to give me a sense of what the Nation is thinking or feeling.

     And The Guardian.  As a life-long Guardian reader (with a brief fall from grace and adherence to The Independent) I now read it on my mobile phone with an intensity that goes beyond belief.  And may I make a specific call out for the writing of John Crace, a columnist of rare wit and perception.  His political sketches have been part of the reason that I have been able to maintain my sweetness and equilibrium during the past few years where Brexit and the bloody Conservatives have convinced me that I am living in a society where the dominant ideology is the death-wish!

My early morning routine is now becoming more and more established: set Moppy (don’t blame me, the app demands that you call your robot cleaner something) off on her hoovering circuit; make my cup of tea (English breakfast and Earl Grey) and have the World’s Most Expensive Augmented Muesli (at least I have stopped adding Smarties to it) with fat-free milk; do the Guardian Quick Crossword (with light cheating); change Moppy to her mopping sequence; go for my pool circuits.  And a chunk of the day is gone!  Which is a clear exemplification of the work expanding to match the time available!

     I do miss my daily early morning swim and I can’t wait to get back to that part of my routine, because that morning start include my first writing of the day when I sit in the café or outside having my post-swim cup of tea.  Ah!  How life used to be!

Just back from the open kitchen window where at 8.00 pm our time, we applaud the front-line workers who are keeping our society going.

     Talking of health workers and their battle against the virus: the British Prime Minister now in Intensive Care.  As I said yesterday, I wish him better health and strength to his family – and he should resign.  Now.  At once.

     The Prime Minister’s bravado a while ago where he was joking about his meeting Covid-19 positive people and shaking hands with them; his visible inability to maintain social distancing when his government was promoting it as essential, now appear to be a foolhardy, self-indulgent imposition on health services that are overstretched.   

     I might also add, that the Prime Minister’s inability to give clear indications of who actually has ultimate power in government is a dereliction of duty.   

     chocolate, retribution, judgement, ineptitude, Throughout his career he has been first and foremost a second-rate, shoddy, narcissistic, journalistic liar and, while I have sympathy for his present state of health, I have none for his political.  We deserve better than him.  Though with the cabinet of freaks that he has accumulated, god alone knows who (or in the case of Gove, what) might take his place.

     So far the Conservatives’ management of the Covid-19 crisis has been fatally inept.  How many unnecessary deaths is it going to take before the people of Britain demand the reckoning that should come sooner rather than later?

Determined not to end this post on a sour note, I can report that we were able to buy chocolate in the last shop and you can be assured that my writing has been sweetened by the confectionary. 

     So just imagine what it would have been like without!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 23 – Tuesday in Holy Week, 7th APRIL

A lie-in this morning.  I did wonder what it was that made the extra time in bed seem like a good idea and then I remembered my expedition of yesterday to get the weekly shop, and the even more stressful disinfecting each of the purchased items before they were put away!

     It shows how bizarre the times are, that something as mundane as shopping has become a major event, for which recuperation (i.e. a lie-in) is regarded as no more than reasonable.

Although some of those in Catalan public life, including politicians have tested positive for Covid-19 none of whom I am aware has been taken to intensive care like the British Prime Minister.  Being in medical danger does simplify reactions to political enemies: there can be no excuse for not wishing Johnson well and extending sympathy to his family.  His illness will not stop the blame game both for and against Number 10, but his personal situation can now be considered in terms of the stability of government and the smooth transition of leadership to designated deputies rather than his personal day-to-day involvement in the continuing crisis.

Each day on Catalan TV we have political representatives explaining the latest situation and taking questions.  Each day we are told about the growing number of fines and even detentions linked to people ignoring the demands of the lockdown.  Pictures of people in public parks in South London and in Roath Park in Cardiff have been widely circulated to public dismay, but those of us in generous accommodation with space for separation and access to terraces or other ‘open’ enclosed spaces can only guess at the tensions for those living in inner-city cramped flats, possibly with kids, or with individual family members self-isolating within a domestic space.  In these circumstances the escape to an open space in welcome sunshine must be an almost impossible to resist temptation.

As is drink.  Catalan television has shown emptying shelves of booze in supermarkets, especially beer (or what passes for it in this country) sales of which have gone up by a substantial amount during this crisis.  This is one facet of life which passes me by.  Not, I must admit, though strength of character and commendable restraint, but rather through medical insistence.  I have not had an alcoholic drink for a couple of years and, apart from a certain hankering with some meals where a glass of decent red would go down a treat; I have not really missed it.

     Of more importance to me are those things with sugar and fat that seem to make up the more interesting sorts of foods that I ought to shun, but in times of crisis it would be inhuman not to have a treat from time to time to keep one’s sanity – and the square of dark chocolate with bits of caramel was just the thing!

On my pool walk today I was stymied at first by a pool worker being there before me.  Rather than walk around the worker, I decided to let him get on with his job without my distracting presence.  It was interesting that, although he was working by himself, he was wearing a facemask.

     When I went for my delayed walk after lunch, I was soon joined by a neighbour with a pram and we walked around the pool on opposite sides, keeping a damn sight more than two metres social distance between us!  Today I have observed others utilizing my exercise space, including a neighbour’s daughter attempting to make an (aided) circuit on a monocycle – that smacks of a father getting increasingly desperate to keep his progeny amused.

     And we have at least three more weeks of this!

The draft of the third poem in my sequence of poems in Holy Week can be found at smrnewpoems.blogspot.com

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 22 – Monday in Holy Week, 6th APRIL

Escape!

     My first physical emergence into the wider world!  Well, I drove to Lidl a couple of kilometres from my home for our weekly shop and then drove back again.  As Toni has done this previously, I have to admit that I was mildly excited by the prospect of finally getting out of the house and environs for the first time in three weeks!

     The reality of my journey was, of course, an anti-climax.  I drove along virtually empty roads to a virtually empty Lidl car park, just as I used to find each day as I cycled to the pool for my early morning swim in the ‘old days’ of just under a month ago!

     Gloved and masked I marched towards the shopping trollies to find out that I had no change – when was the last time that I used money as cash?  Luckily there was a Lidl employee at the entrance and she went to a till and found me a plastic token and emphasised that I could keep it, and it is now safely lodged in my wallet where I will probably forget that I have it the next time I find myself without change, but still, a little gesture makes all the difference to a shopping expedition!

     At the entry to Lidl was a person who demanded that all shoppers first use the hand sanitizer and then glove-up before they were allowed to go in.  As I was already wearing gloves I had to sanitize and the liquid stayed damp on the plastic for a damn sight longer that it did on flesh.  But, who could quarrel with this basic form of hygiene and it did emphasise a level of concern that one could only hope was carried on into the store itself by the shoppers.

     People did keep their distance and there was an obvious wariness about Others, as the best form of protection is to assume that everyone you meet and see is positive for the virus.

     To my utter horror there was no Cheddar cheese in the dairy section.  I specifically went to Lidl because they have a 15-month matured Cheddar at a cost that matches that in Britain and without the premium that decent Cheddar has elsewhere in Catalonia – if you can get it.  I was able to compensate with a few other cheeses, but Gouda and Emmental hardly match Cheddar for taste, texture and versatility.   How I suffer.

     The other main reason for my going to Lidl is their range of nuts and the prices they charge.  I did not trust Toni to understand the quantity and variety of nuts that I demand for everyday use and rather than explain and justify it was so much easier to go myself!

     I got virtually everything that we had decided was essential and the only things that I failed to find were radishes and soya sprouts – no great loss, either of those.

     On the more than positive side, for the first time in Lidl I found sugar free ice creams and sugar free biscuits – and for the sake of my sanity, I understand ‘no added sugars’ to be synonymous with ‘sugar free’ because, yes.

     We are now set for the next week with only fresh bread for Toni being an on-going concern.  We do have a bakery near us and Toni goes there every couple of days and brings back a little treat with the baguettes.

Going shopping did not push my steps up to the minimum that my unrelenting smart watch demands, and by the time that we had put everything that I bought away.  We were both exhausted.  Let me explain.  Toni is a stickler for the correct procedures so we therefore wiped each and every item before we put it away.  As it was a ‘major’ shop, it took a lot of time, with my being accused of being slip shod in my wiping.  God give me strength!  Anyway, at the end of the putting away, going for a walk to make up my steps lost out badly to having a decent cup of tea and then one thing led to another and suddenly it was night, and therefore time for me to work on the poem ideas for PIHW Poem 2.

     And that is what I need to get on with now.  PIHW Poem 1 is on smrnewpoems.blogspot.com and by tomorrow morning I hope that it will be joined by Poem 2.

     Work to do!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 21 – Palm Sunday 5th APRIL

Where do you start with ‘irony’ in the sort of build up to Easter that we are having this virus-infected year?

     Our next door neighbours are showing their piety on Palm Sunday by defying restrictions and working flat out in constructing and installing the new kitchen in the house that is either going to be their new home or is going to fetch them a pretty penny when it is sold.  Or perhaps both.  What there isn’t, is respect for the day religiously, politically or healthily!

     The churches have been closed.  The KKK-like religious processions have been cancelled in Spain.  The pope spoke in a wet and empty St Peter’s Square.  In all the coverage of the pandemic, I have heard little from religious leaders, and little to nothing of God.  Even Trump’s fanatic fundamentalist base has not vaunted god above science.  Just as Capitalism turns to Socialism in times of crisis, for government to do what Capitalism cannot or rather, will not do, so Religion turns to Science to cure what it cannot.

     To be fair, most of mainstream religion sees no conflict between religious belief and trust in science.  Nowadays.  Those battles, since the time of Galileo, have been fought and lost; and what Churches now rely on faith rather than Insurance Policies to keep their institutions ‘safe’?

     It is, of course, easy to spin the Holy Week Story to fit the narrative of the virus; metaphor is a willing façade.  Today, in the Christian calendar is a day of triumph when Christ rode into Jerusalem in glory – though riding on an ass: tempered triumph - and that triumph soon to be translated into abject defeat which in turn transmogrifies into the ultimate triumph of the empty tomb.

     Pandemics do concentrate the mind.  A highly technological society brought low - so much for civilization and medical expertise!  All our bright and glittering technology unable to stop the virus from killing tens of thousands and infecting, god knows how many.  Our society has been literally brought to a standstill: achievement brought low, but resurrection is a vital concept and all of us sequestered in our homes and looking forward to, no, expecting a triumph of medical science to deliver the vaccine that will release us all and allow a continuation of the old way of life, our own social resurrection.

     The Holy Week story is one in which you can find triumph, deception, hypocrisy, populism, testing, faith, hope, death, defeat, disloyalty, fear, despair, community, faction, belief, confidence, loss and fulfillment – and those words only scratch at the surface of the complexity of the narrative so it is hardly surprising that it fits the present situation.

     At the end of this pandemic, will churches be filled with people giving thanks for deliverance, or shunned by people who didn’t give god a thought during the crisis?  I will wait to see.

Castelldefels has just been on the afternoon television news informing us that the Red Cross has been going to closed schools’ kitchens and ‘liberating’ the food which can be used to feed those in need rather than staying in the fridges and eventually becoming unusable.  This seems like a self-evidently good idea and I wonder in how many other places this is being put into operation.  There must also be restaurants and the like that are never going to be able to use their food supplies in time?  Something to think about, especially as governments like the one in the UK is already distributing food parcels to those who need them, surely there must be systems already in place to take advantage of any extra supplies?

Today is the start of my annual Holy Week Poem Writing Stint.  And yes, I do know that Palm Sunday is not the official start of Holy Week, but I make the rules here.

     I am well aware that this choice of poetry-writing period is an odd one for an avowed atheist to take as a key time for production, but it has become something of a tradition and I look forward to it each year – just to see what I produce!  As I have said elsewhere, "I read myself in writing"!

     I aim to get the idea for a poem each day, and then to write it up to the level of a rough draft.  Each day, until Easter Sunday, I will try and get the draft downloaded to my poetry blog at smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.  I must emphasise that my ‘daily’ work will only be a draft and I reserve the right to work on the poem after Holy Week to get it to a more polished state.

     I welcome your company on this annual journey.  The best way to follow my poems is probably ‘the morning after’ when there should be something to see from the previous day!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 20 – Saturday 4th APRIL

To absolutely no one’s surprise our lockdown has been extended to the 26^th of this month: only another three weeks to go.  To what?  Do we seriously think that this whole disaster will have run its course in a few weeks?  Locked inside, we have little to think about than when this is going to end.  Or rather ‘if’ this is going to end.  Let’s face it, the end of this crisis will either be the final playing out of whatever the virus wants to do in its own sweet time, or the truncated reign of the virus brought about by the intelligent care and management of the politicians who are directing our fight against it.  Seriously, which would you think the more likely scenario?

     Admittedly we are not cursed with an a nepotistic buffoon like some (Republican voters have to ‘own’ their elected idiot) unfortunate Americans who goes out of his way to reject the advice of his own scientific advisors, for example over the wearing of face masks.  But our own political leaders do not inspire confidence: politics always seem to trump (ha!) national need.

My inner Ben Gunn (cf. Treasure Island) has surfaced with the last piece of cheese consumed being a fading memory.  I have therefore ordered 2kg via the Internet (at premium price) and it is something to look forward to when it is finally delivered in a week or so’s time.  I have also ordered a collection of goodies from The Pound Shop, mainly because it is one place that makes no bones about delivering, even if it takes a couple of weeks.  If nothing else, it will make a pleasant surprise when it finally arrives, as I have already forgotten what I ordered!

     I have comprehensively failed to get a slot from any of the major supermarkets for a home delivery, so for the foreseeable future (forget about the 26^th being a cut off date!) Toni will have to venture out and brave the inconsideration of people who fail to cough into their elbows!

On the other hand the sun is shining and, although my early morning walk was a trifle chilly, the warms must now have heated up the tiles on the floor of the terrace on the third floor and I am prepared to grace the place with my presence.

     From my eyrie on the third floor it is possible to look around at a whole selection of houses and flats swimming pools and tennis courts. 

     My assessment of the strictness of the lockdown, based on the microcosm I can see, is that the rigour of the isolation is fraying at the edges.  The kids in the flats are playing together; over the other side of the main road, people are grouping together; four guys were playing tennis; kids were playing in the car park under the building of another set of flats. 

     OK this is a Saturday (if anyone is keeping track) and a certain relaxation goes with the day, but the figures of infection and deaths are still frighteningly high in this country and any slackening of the procedures would be counterproductive (what a euphemism!) at this stage of the measures that we are taking to cope with the virus – if our figures indicate that we really are dealing with it.

    If we take the government’s time line, we are half way through the period of lockdown. 

     The next three weeks are going to be telling ones.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 19 – 3rd APRIL

I brush my teeth carefully and thoroughly each day and night.  With a damn sight more care than I have normally done, I might say.  I have a morbid (the right word I think) fear of getting toothache during lockdown.  Toothache is like headache – one of the debilitating, almost unbearable pains that can’t be ignored.  But, in these strange times, where would I go to have my teeth seen to? 

     When you hear of cancer treatment being delayed because of the medical demands of the virus, a mere toothache would appear to be of less than secondary importance.  Flossing has become a protection against the fear of future oral pain ignored!

     On one web site I saw warnings about those people in confinement being careful about how they approach any do-it-yourself projects suddenly started because of time on ones hands.  Home improvements always come at a cost and the number of accidents from the handling of unfamiliar tools, especially power tools, has ever been a significant way to injure yourself.  Now, the consequences of these accidents have very real costs in terms of the extra pressure on the health services and whether you would actually qualify for attention.

     I have no personal experience of what the medical services in Castelldefels are like at the moment and how those with chronic illnesses are being dealt with.  For example, my next scheduled appointment is in July in a local hospital and is part of the on-going treatment for my thrombosis and embolisms after a blood test in my local medical centre the week before.   

     I have been given no information about delay or cancellation, but I think it highly unlikely that the schedules that we sets six months ago are still going to be kept to.  Everything has changed, and my light touch supervision is more of a confirmation of progress rather than a necessary medical intervention – so my appointment is one that can easily be delayed.  It will be interesting to see exactly how our medical system copes, and I can take a reasonably disinterested view as my hospital visit is now more concerned with checking progress rather than active treatment.

     But one thing is certain; I have no wish to find out just how prepared our emergency services are to cope with any household domestic injuries or how medical centres and dentists are coping.  I want to live an uneventfully contained life in my home with occasional forays to the collective bins my only contact with the outside ‘outside’ world.

Last night I (and a quarter of a million others) watched a matinee performance of  ‘One man, two guvnors’ a reworking of the Goldoni original on the National Theatre Live Facebook site.  I thoroughly enjoyed it, but virtually every moment made me want to be in the audience seeing the performance live rather than looking at it on a computer screen!

     Filming ‘live’ plays produces an odd media type as its end result.  The actors have to play to a full theatre, so many of the exchanges between characters seem over emphatic; the actors are playing a ‘live’ real audience and we watchers are not part of that organic entity; this production had interaction between actors and audience which distanced we watchers even more; some of the stage business was complicated and could easily have gone wrong – all the things that make a live performance ‘dangerous’ were limited by our knowledge that this was a recorded performance.  The artificiality that we saw is something that I would have enthusiastically embraced if I had part of the actual audience.  But, I am grateful that I had an opportunity to see a performance that passed me by and I look forward to the other ‘performances’ over the next few Thursday evenings.

     Although I am grateful for the opportunity to see a much-appreciated performance, the lack of immediacy in a videoed version is more telling with theatre than it is for me with ballet or opera. 

     But, every little helps!

At least the sun came out today and I was able to ‘take’ it on the third floor terrace.   As the terrace is fairly sheltered, it lessened the effect of the breeze that would have made the sunbathing more gesture than pleasure – but for an hour or so I was able to laze around and think that summer was getting closer.

     Please!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 18 – 2nd APRIL

Today saw the delivery of a packet of 10 disposable facemasks from China.  I ordered them at the beginning of the crisis and I was concerned about the projected late delivery date.  How innocent that concern now seems!  I felt that the crisis would probably be over before we got a chance to wear them.  How naïve!  Even the Tangerine Tale-Teller seems to be frantically re-writing his own political history and explaining to the American people that the virus that he downplayed as little more than mild flu is now a merciless silent killer and, far from magically disappearing, will be with us for the foreseeable future: Terminator Trump – how many ‘corporate manslaughter’ deaths does he have on his bloody hands?

     The same question could be asked of the politicians in the UK and here in Spain.  One virus expert stated that the key to controlling and understanding the virus was to “Test! Test! Test!”  And we are told that two thousand out of five hundred thousand health workers have been tested in the UK.  How can this be?  And who is to blame?  Every day’s delay means fewer workers in essential services and a greater threat of infection.

It is with something approaching relief that I turn to the crappy weather we are having in Castelldefels.  I have often said that weather in this country lacks the spitefulness of British weather, in other words, the climate in Catalonia usually means that even on a rainy day we have a portion (sometimes tiny) of sunshine.  Not over the last few days: overcast, miserable and wet.

     My circuits around the pool have now taken on a more drunken appearance as I have decided to ‘weave’ my way around the perimeter to add difference to the monotony of a single direction.  To an observer I must look like a robot cleaner with a faulty coverage pattern as I veer one way and then another.  I think that part of my reasoning for variety is based on half remembered memoirs of prisoners who walked around their cells for exercise, but always remembered to vary their direction in their confined spaces because, because . . . I cannot quite remember why, but there was a good reason I’m sure; dizziness, or unequal development or something.  Anyway, it gives a different perspective and that is essential as I go round and round and round.

     The placid surface of the pool acts as a weather indicator: if there is any rain in the breeze then the expanding ripples let me make a decision about whether I continue my walk or call it a day and have another cup of tea.

     I marched around the pool this morning listening to the panel of In Our Time on Radio 4 talking about the gin craze in late C17th England.  Only on Radio 4!  There truly cannot be another radio station like it anywhere in the world.

We have had yet another period of 24 hours here in Spain where the death toll is a new 'record' of 963, and the total figures of deaths has passed 10,000.  The figures of those infected have passed those in China.  We are in a continuing nightmare – even if that nightmare does not really touch us in our parochial confines in Castelldefels.

     We are reliant on news of the ‘outside’ world from the Internet and continue to feel the anger of the frustrated as we watch inefficiency, duplicity and greed define the parameters of the crisis.

     Respirators seem to be the crystalizing concept of futility in the battle against the virus.  Numbers of machines necessary to cope with the projected number of patients are thrown around with politicians manufacturing plenitude with airy words while the hard reality of machines linked to patients seems to be woefully inadequate.  

   We hear of uplifting stories of companies using their resources to design, prototype and get to manufacture machines in an amazingly short period of time; we hear of major engineering works retooling to meet respirator demand – but then we hear of a depressingly high figure of hospitals saying that resources have not got to them, and that a disaster is developing as they watch and wait.

     In World War II, American shipyards managed to launch three Liberty Ships for the cargo conveys for Britain every two days; have we lost the ability to mass produce what is essential to meet the threats of crises in the last seventy years or so?  

   Given the greater interconnectedness of our world are we incapable of working together in a meaningful way to ensure the equitable spread of equipment and facilities?  It certainly appears that we have learned little from each new viral threat to our planet.

     Without full testing we cannot know what the virus is really doing.  The lack of testing in Spain, Britain and the US is the real 'killer' story.  We obviously need to work to get mass testing in place; but the reasons for its delay must be a key questions to be asked when this pandemic is over. 

     Or perhaps it cannot be left until them.  They are questions that need answers now and it needs those people who have obstructed and obfuscated to be removed to save lives.       

     Every time a selfish, inefficient, mendacious politician speaks, people die.   

     Let’s get rid of them now!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 17th – 1st APRIL

A third day of indifferent weather – something that should be of supreme indifference given what is happening in the world today, but in the confined ‘world’ that one inhabits at present, something that is of irritating importance.

     The daily morning tasks being completed (up to and including the Guardian ‘quick’ crossword) it was a pleasant surprise to have a phone call from a Cardiff friend, Hadyn, informing me that he had purchased one of Ceri Auckland Davies’s[1] paintings in a recent auction.  This hawthorn is one from a series Ceri painted of trees in bloom, and a good choice!  The tree fills the picture space and is set against a moody sky-filled background rising from a low horizon – a dramatic and lively painting.

     From where I sit typing I can see two more examples of Ceri’s work: an atmospheric print of a night view of a lamp lit façade of a Venetian palazzo[2] painted in a freer style than the meticulous detailed manner that he usually adopts, and a large charcoal drawing of a rock cleft in which the quasi-abstract depiction of the faceted rock face encourages pareidolia in a busy surface that always engages my attention as it is directly opposite where I usually sit. 

     As a striking contrast to the ‘face-filled’ rocks, the focus of attention is nothing.  Literally nothing, whiteness, blankness.  The far opening of the rock cleft is onto sea or sky and that is a patch of vibrant white, unworked and blank whereas all around it is the detail of charcoal sketching. 

     I am endlessly fascinated by this work and, like the best Giles cartoons (and that is a signal honour of comparison from me!) there is always something new to find in the detail of the draftmanship and the juxtaposition of light and shade.  Each time I look at it, I highlight different sections and let my eye slide through the confined landscape in alternative ways.

     What has all of that to do with the current crisis?  Everything. 

     Our lives have been thrown into total confusion; the economy of the world is in free-fall; our individual freedoms are being compromised; millions are being forced into greater poverty; domestic violence is on the rise; we are being turned into ourselves, a forced introspection; and survival, for most of us in the wealthy west, usually a concept rather than an ever present threat, has now become visible, palpable struggle.  It is exactly at times like these that one needs to consider the worth of a painted tree!

     It used to be said that a society could be judged by how it treats the poorest and least advantaged in a community: the disabled, the imprisoned, the dispossessed, the mentally ill, the criminal, the refugee, the old, the homeless etc.  The point being made is that it is easy to look after those who are already able and keen to look after themselves, but what about the others?  In the same way, bare survival is obviously essential, but we must, we have to be concerned with the quality of survival as well.  It is to the everlasting credit of the wartime government in Britain that, at the same time that it was struggling to keep the effort to free the world of the threat of fascism, it was also working to ensure that there were clear plans for the betterment of society after the conflict was ended.  The 1944 Education Act was a gesture, no, much more than a gesture, of defiance and belief that something positive must come from something so negative.

     The Arts in all their forms are the way that quality of life can be guaranteed, in a way they encourage us to believe that there is something beyond mere survival.

     I am not so idealistic that I believe that a painting, or piece of music, or a good book; a well composed photograph or a well directed film are protection against the vicissitudes of this world, especially when they come in microscopic form, but I do think that the creative arts are there to make the struggle to survive worth it and they do, sometimes, provide the solace to make it bearable.

     That all sounds much more apocalyptic than I meant it to sound: I am warm, comfortable and well fed; I am protected from the elements and media to amuse myself surrounds me; I can write and I can speak.  My ‘prison’ is well appointed and I can take exercise outside the walls (just); I can contact friends and read about others; I am freely confined! 

     And yet, especially in a country when the death rate is rising day on day I do appreciate that I am of an age group where my continued life is dependent on my adhering strictly to governmental guidelines and the following of those guidelines by others around me.  For almost the first time in my life, I am directly threatened by a very present moral enemy.

     But, having talked myself into a state of sombre seriousness and existential angst, I can get out of it by merely (and that word is surely justified here because of the ease with which I can do it) looking at a painting, reading a book, listening to a piece of music.

     And, as far as looking at paintings are concerned, my emails have been filled with various institutions urging me to take a virtual tour or plunge into the catalogues and explore the holdings.  Galleries around the world are offering lectures and guides; things to do; things to make; ways to get involved.  Opera companies are offering performances streamed on their sites; books are being electronically offered – to say nothing of the television shows and films that are freely available on line.

     Now is the time to explore, to take a whim and see how far you go and where you end up.  So much is available and only for the cost of the electricity that drives your Internet access.

     When arid introspection threatens; the digital world is available!

    

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[1] welshart.net; lionstreetgallery.co.uk; www.albanygallery.com

[2] https://www.redraggallery.co.uk/print-ceri-auckland-davies.asp