LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 71 – Monday, 25th May

I am still shaken by just how poor a defence Johnson mounted to justify the high-handedness of his arrogant aide.  When even the Daily Mail asks, “What planet do they think they are on!” as a reference to the incredible (literally!) insulting justification for Cummings’ rule breaking, joined with the sickeningly unedifying spectacle of supine ministers docilely toeing the Save The Dom cabinet line, you realize that you are witnessing a government imploding.

     Perhaps I should have said ‘seemingly imploding’ because I do not underestimate the ability of the Conservative Party to survive ‘fatal’ mistakes and misjudgements.  It is undeniable that Johnson is a lessened leader, I don’t say ‘character’ because that is clearly impossible, and if it becomes clear to him that his status is diminished then he will do what any narcissist does when self-worth is threatened: lash out and to hell with the collateral damage.

     Let us never forget that Johnson’s espousal of Brexit was quintessentially narcissistic: he was convinced by his own rhetoric, comparing and contrasting two pieces of his own writing to see which one would afford him greater possibilities for self-advancement.  I don’t know what the opposite of a Damascene Conversion would be to cover his case, but there was no blinding light from an all-powerful deity, but rather a greedy acceptance of his own perceived omnipotence fuelling his ludicrously inflated ego and presented as reason and logic and, god help duty, dedication and us!

     The front pages of the newspapers cannot make easy reading for Johnson, but they don’t make easy reading for the rest of the Conservative Party either.  Most MPs are concerned about their seats; anything that looses them public support is not to be tolerated – and these MPs postbags must be filled with howls of outrage about the preferential treatment of a member of the establishment as opposed to the PBI, or rather Plebs as they think of us.

     You can take the over-entitled git out of the Bullingdon Club, but the sense of them-and-us never leaves.  Johnson is a perfect example of the born into privilege and milking it for all it’s worth with the minimum of effort sort of the undeserving rich.  He is also a bully, a liar, malicious and, as the ‘defence’ of Cummings has clearly shown, a coward.  And cowards in power are dangerous.  As we are finding out every day.

     Unless Johnson takes visible control of the government then even his comfortable majority will not be enough to protect him from the Men in Suits whose only raison d’etre is to preserve power, and to whom Johnson is only a momentary blip on the time line of their sequestration of political dominance.

The fall out from the pathetic defence of Cummings, where we are expected to believe in a sort of Schrodinger’s Lockdown that does and does not allow free movement at the same time, continues.  Johnson’s cringe-makingly inept performance has had the surprising result of uniting all sections of society and all political parties in fully justified revulsion.  Except of course for the ‘usual suspects’ of Brexit insanity, though even some members of the ERG have called for Cummings’ head!  We truly live in strange times!

     As a last resort, Cummings himself is to make a public statement and take questions.  I suppose if Cummings can supress his natural revulsion for the carping criticism of the ‘lesser breeds without the law’ by whom he thinks he is surrounded, then a person of his obvious intelligence and manipulative skills would be the sort of man to carry it off.  But he really will have to out-Houdini Houdini to get away with it and I hope The Daily Mirror and The Guardian hacks have got their linguistic scalpels out and ready to dissect everything that l’éminence désordonée has to say. 

     I keep checking in with The Guardian on my phone to find out the time because I do not want to miss a word.  I have just found out that his statement will take place at 4pm UK time, 5pm my time.  I will be there, don’t let me down Radio 4!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 70 – Sunday, 24th May

Firstly, may I urge you all to sign the petition on change.org calling for the resignation of Dominic Cummings?  Of course, he shouldn’t be given the opportunity to resign, he should be fired, but the person who would have to act with alacrity, authority and some moral force is the Blond Buffoon, so no luck there.

     It does seem rather like indulging in an unsavoury blood sport to attack Matt gi’ us a job Beckett, the man whose moral compass can be turned between meals without ruining your appetite, who after attacking the randy professor for breaking the distancing rules to welcome his mistress to his house had to do a 180 degree turn and justify Cummings breaking of the rules. 

     Cummings we should remind ourselves had symptoms of Covid-19, whereas the Randy Prof was symptom free, and the Prof’s tryst did not involve a 600 mile round trip, with stops, to spread the infection.

     The press-ganged ministers forced to humiliate themselves (except for Gove, of course, who probably ‘means’ what he says, which speaks volumes for his despicable character) by enthusiastic professions of support for someone they probably hate and fear were just as predictably weasel-wordedly vile as you would have predicted – though, from an English teacher’s viewpoint, transcripts of their ‘support’ would make a fascinating portfolio for the student of linguistics, social linguistics, politics, morality, truth, doublespeak and so on.

     As a kid I used to wonder at the articulacy of politicians who, after a second’s thought when faced with a poser of a question were able to speak in connected sentences, give a rounded performance, ending in a burst of applause and have said nothing at all!

     I was obviously a good student because, during one public meeting I was called on to give an answer to a question that, had I been forthright would have condemned the person sitting next to me.  I got to my feet, I spoke and, when I had finished I was thanked for my explanation.  An explanation that very carefully gave no useful information at all – and I had my round of applause!

     Having done it oneself, it is easier to discern in others and indeed, bemoan the inexpert way in which most politicians now fail to master the technique.  To be fair, questioning is not as reverential as it was in my youth, but ministers do have aids who prep them for the obvious questions that they are likely to encounter though as with for example, the Blond Buffoon, preparation is only as good as it is thorough and the Buffoon, as is known, is not famous for his application!

     The Goblin Gove is a ‘person’ who seems to thrive on difficult questioning, but this is only because he is able to disassociate himself completely from past history, truth and accountability in his answers.  The latitude of what might laughingly be referred to, as his moral compass must afford him the smug luxury of expansiveness in his fluently empty rhetoric.

     As Sunday morning progresses, so we are finding more people condemning Cummings’ breaking of the lockdown and even Conservative MPs are calling for his resignation – though I still think he should be sacked, by the Blond Buffoon who needs to get more acclimatized to U-Turns, especially as we get nearer and nearer to a no-deal, hard Brexit!

     As the day wears on the situation with Cummings appears a little clearer.  Only 7 conservative MPs have thrown their careers in the party down the loo by coming out against Cummings and urging his sacking, while over 50 Conservative MPs have expressed support.  As one commentator pointed out although Cummings obviously did something wrong and against the rules that he helped frame, the ministers who tried to explain away his crime are even worse as they have jettisoned, or at least called into question, the whole governmental strategy for the saving of lives by concentrating on saving a single career.  As another commentator pointed out, this ministerial circling of the waggons is also an expensive squandering of governmental authority.

     My concern is hardly dispassionate as I regard this government as a travesty, but at a time of national crisis I am also acutely aware (as the government signally isn’t) that any mismanagement will result in even more deaths.  I sincerely hope that Cummings is consigned to the scrapheap, but while his political demise would be a bright spot in the darkness of the rule of The Blond Buffoon and his Cabinet of No Talents, I am much more concerned about the efficient management of the Covid virus and eliminating it.

     But a little political blood is acceptable!

I have just watched the Blond Buffoon’s performance in the daily press conference and I feel slightly sick.  Johnson was asked questions that he could not, or chose not to answer.  He asserted that Cummings behaved honourably, but was unable to draw any clear distinction between similar cases where individuals, at great personal cost, had followed governmental guidelines unlike Cummings.

     Johnson provided us with a shoddy performance.  It was unconvincing and positively degrading to watch.  He insulted the intelligence of his audience and he devalued the government that he leads.

     In future press conferences it would be more seemly for Mr Cummings to take the podium, as he is clearly the person in charge and not the buffoon who fronted today’s fiasco.

     Johnson drew distinctions that did not exist and he asked us to exonerate Cummings behaviour by repeating his perceptions of its moral worth rather than giving any concrete explanations about how what was allowable for Cummings should not be taken as a general rule.  If the ‘guidance has not changed’ how can Cummings’ selfish behaviour possibly be right.

     I now feel that the resignation of Cummings is almost irrelevant.  Johnson is the one who should be considering his position because, as a prime minister he now has, in a phrase that I loved when used about the much missed prime minister May, having “about as much authority as the 'Do not tumble dry' instruction on clothes”.

     R.I.P Premiership: Johnson, May, 2020.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 69 – Saturday, 23rd May

So, “Let them die! Cummings” is now shown to have broken the lockdown rules that he helped frame, by driving 250 miles from London when he was positive with the Covid-19 virus to self-isolate in his parents’ house – a flagrant flouting of the rules.  If we look to the immediate past, other high profile flouters have resigned.  So should he.

     He won’t of course.  The Blond Buffoon would be lost, directionless, gibbering – sorry, even more lost, directionless and gibbering, without him.  And where would Hardest of All Hard Brexits be unless driven (ha!) by the Manic Mekon of Maliciousness!

     I look forward to the puerile mendacity of third-rate cabinet ministers (are there any others?) as they (yet again) defend the defenceless.  I do hope that the Guardian manages to get an appropriately evil photograph of the Bald Bastard (I can say that as I share his follicle challenge) to illustrate the mealy mouthed explanations for his ‘entitled’ flouting.  If, of course, anyone deigns to give an explanation.  It remains to be seen if there are sufficient Tory MPs to force The Blond Buffoon into another U-Turn, and if there is a feeling in the country that Cummings’ position is untenable.  One can only hope!

     This comes at the same time as the fall-out from the self-quarantine for visitors to the UK controversy; the continued failure of track and test; the chaos and division on the school return plans; the continuing horror of the mismanagement of Covid-19 in Care Homes; the total number of deaths and infections; the release of SAGE advice showing just how political the decisions have been; confusion of intentions about how, when and where we can holiday, and on and on. 

     Our present government is exactly the wrong group of politicians in position at exactly the wrong time.  And there is a proposed trip for the Blond Buffoon to the Orange Monster as if the link of shared shittiness was not close and dirty enough even with an ocean between them, they have to get together to share the shame!

My bike ride this morning was through a positive throng of people walking, running and cycling on the Paseo, the most crowded that I have experienced.  The beach was also fairly densely populated with some people swimming – it just shows you what odd times we are living in that such a comment seems remarkable!  Given that Monday marks a further loosening of the restrictions, I confidently expect there to be an exponential rise in people along the front.  We will be open to visits from people in the whole Barcelona metropolitan area, though I am not sure that overnight stays are yet allowed.  There are numbers of second homes in Castelldefels so there must be people itching to get to the seaside for the traditional stay.  Sigh!

     This means that our summer neighbours are likely to arrive as soon as they are given permission, and then they will be here until at least the middle of September.  Usually they arrive just after the schools close, though this year that date is something of a moveable feast to say the least, more conjectural than calendrical!  [ look it up, it exists!]

     My sports club can reopen on Monday as well, though I am not sure that the pool will be open yet.  The web site does not give information about sports apart from some 1 to 1 activities in padel and pilates.  Nothing about swimming.  As my membership of the Club has been temporarily suspended during the virus crisis I suppose that I will know that things are getting back to normal when the bank starts taking money again!  I am looking forward to my first lengths.

     I assume that when swimming eventually resumes it will be in a ‘timed’ slot and that changing facilities and showering facilities will not be provided. 

     We may well have to turn up in our bathing costumes and that means I will have to delve into my wardrobe and see if I can find a tracksuit.  That still fits!  I fear that most of the bits and pieces of past tracksuits are nylon based and therefore efficient producers of static electricity.  As someone who has ‘fallen upwards’ after crossing the carpet of the National Theatre and placing a hand on the exposed metal stair rail and shocking myself from side to side as I instinctively flinched away with one shocked hand and then grabbed for support with the other to be shocked in turn, and so on – I am prone to crackling displays of painful personal electric discharges.  I dread the return to nylonic [that doesn’t exist, but I like the sound] Faradaean [that doesn’t either, ditto] excesses!  But, there again, no pain – no gain!

Just watched 1917.  Superb!  I am usually quite squeamish about films concerning the First World War, partly I think because I feel that I have an emotional investment in the things as my grandfather was a volunteer at the start of the war and he was someone who survived, though not without scars – both literal and mental.  He was wounded during one ‘battle’ (if you can call the ill planned slaughter by upper class idiots a ‘battle?) and was seriously enough wounded to be sent back to Britain to recuperate.  When he returned to his point in the line, nothing had changed except the whole of his company had been killed.  Everyone.

     Every time that I have walked past the statue of Earl (!) Douglas Haig in London, I have felt a personal affront on behalf of my grandfather.  A man who fought in the Somme.  Ah well, let it go, but I am not neutral when I see soldiers in the trenches.  1917 was a worthy addition to the sorry story of the senseless slaughter in France and Belgium – that should never be forgotten.  There are too many easy parallels of the waste of human life in our present time for the excesses of 1914-1918 to be ignored.  Though it would be difficult to say that the lesson has been learned.

     A film worth watching.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 68 – Friday, 22nd May

It is difficult not to term the Conservative Government’s U-Turn on the migrant workers health surcharge ‘humiliating’, but I suppose it is better to consider it a ‘fitting’ recognition of the essential service that such workers do, often on minimum wage and to ‘welcome’ any sign from the discredited third-raters that form the cabinet of humanity.  One can only hope that such grace is now applied to the self-harm of Brexit!  Fond hope – and that two-word expression of despair doesn’t merit an exclamation mark, just a weary sigh.

     At every step in the management of this crisis the government has come up short.  They have blustered, prevaricated, lied – but why go on, I have been writing the same sort of verbs about the Tories for the last decade, why, especially after the catastrophic debacle of the Brexit vote and its on-going car crash implementation should I be surprised that an even worse tragedy produces a signature catalogue of crass ineptitude?

The more I think about the production of A Streetcar Named Desire last night, the less satisfied I am with it.  Although it did give me shivers and almost reduce me to tears, I am left feeling that the production was slightly superficial, I was using my knowledge of the piece to flesh out my response; part of my involvement was recognition of the revisiting of the most effective parts of the play and a remembered delight in the structure and emotional complexity of the action.

     I was also struck by the artificiality of much of the dialogue, especially from Stanley, where he says things, and in such a way that he seems to step outside of his character and become a too eloquent part of the Tragedy with a capital T rather than the rough character in a gritty drama.

     Blanche is a role to kill for: camp, grotesque, twisted, vicious and unbearably vulnerable.  Salacious lush she might be, but she has lines of almost unendurable pathos – and truth.  At the height of her self-pitying drunkenness she shows a self-awareness of the essential strength and worth of her character that takes the breath away.

     At the end of the play as Blanche is led away and the card game recommences and the old life goes on, we get the same feeling as at the end of Death of a Salesman when Linda says of her dead husband and failed salesman, “Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.”  But, it’s too late, that’s the tragedy; it’s always too late.

     Thursday nights at 8.00pm have become a fixture in my week, and I am grateful to the National Theatre for making their films of productions available to the public.  If you have not yet see the productions on Facebook then I do urge you to experience the productions – and donate to the organizations as well of course!

     The next production (free streaming on Facebook from the 28^th of May for one week) is This House by James Graham, set in the House of Commons in the period from the General Election of 1974 to the Vote of Confidence in James Callaghan in 1979.  The major political figures are characters off-stage while the main action of the play is centred on the Whips offices of the Labour and Conservative parties.

     This is one of those plays that I regretted not being able to see, so I am delighted to have the opportunity to experience it via Facebook.

There was little increase in the wearing of facemasks as far as I could see today, though they are not mandatory for exercise.

     On Monday of next week we move to level 1 from level 0 here in the province of Barcelona.  This means that restaurants will open with service on sparse terraces; churches with be open up to 30%; groups of no more than 10 and various other loosening’s of the regulations.  There seems to be a belief that the mere passing of days will mark progress towards the mastering of the virus.  This is a false assumption.  The only way to cope with the virus is through testing, contact tracing and lockdown.  None of this is securely in place, neither in Catalonia nor in the UK.   Everything about this virus and its management is worrying.  Frightening.

Just to make things that little bit more difficult, a filling fell out yesterday evening.  I have been punctilious about brushing and looking after my teeth exactly because of my fear of what dental treatment might be in lockdown.  It was therefore with a certain amount of trepidation that we contacted the dentist this morning.  I was delighted (well, you know what I mean in relation to dentists) to find that not only was the dentist open, but they were making appointments and amazingly, I was fitting in at lunchtime next Tuesday.  That is what I call service!

     I do feel a certain trepidation about the appointment; it is difficult to be physically distanced when you are sitting in a dentist’s chair!  Another experience to add to the lockdown life!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 67 – Thursday, 21st May

For the first time since we were allowed out in our allotted time slots to exercise, my bike ride was free of sightings of Child Viral Assassins forcing their purile way into our adult hours.

     The weather is getting progressively more summery and people are walking with a new jauntiness in their steps.  The building of summer structures on the beach carries on apace and there is increasing evidence of shops and restaurants getting ready for whatever the ‘New Normal’ Season is going to offer.

     Both Spain and the UK seem determined to get kids back to school before the end of the summer term, and I share the apprehension of teachers in wondering just how safe they and the kids are going to be.

     I read through the proposed precautions that one infants’ school was going to take and I was impressed by the thoroughness of the procedures, but also noted how much was dependant on the cooperation of parents in, for example, bringing pupils to school in timeslots and washing all of the pupil’s clothing at the end of the day.  Meals would be provided by the school, no packed lunches allowed; no school materials would come from home; no artefacts made in school would go home; kids would be taught by a dedicated teacher and they would associate only within their teaching group.  Are these rules general in the UK?  Do they follow governmental guidelines?  Are they any governmental guidelines?  There are too many questions about how all of this is going to operate, with the very real fear than any slip in the precautions will result in illness and death.

     Then there is the testing and contact tracing elements.  As the government has been much less than honest about their targets and have been creatively duplicitous about ‘meeting’ them, what faith can we have about their professed care for teachers and pupils?

     What is going to happen to a stretched system when the inevitable infection occurs?  Classes will not be able to be amalgamated.  If a class has a ‘dedicated’ teacher, what happens if that teacher is absent?  In fact, I will stop there because the questions are multiplying in my mind and the answers are not easy.  Or cheap.

     Some beaches in Barcelona have been opened up for sunbathing and recreation, though the TV pictures that we were shown indicate that physical distancing is an inhibition that seems to disappear with clothing.

     I do worry that a coastal resort like Castelldefels will become a hotspot for viral infection as we go further into the good weather and more people come to our beach.  As Barry Island was to Cardiff, so Castelldefels is to Barcelona – one of the seaside resorts for a day out, easily reachable by bike, car, bus and train.  And the beach is the place where inhibitions are loosened, where relaxation is part of the experience, and where irksome rules can be ignored. 

     It does not bode well.

The ‘live’ theatrical presentation this evening was A Streetcar Named Desire, a Young Vic production.  The action took place on a constantly turning revolve as it was a production in the round.  The filming was uncharacteristically inept, or you could say that the filming actually shared the interrupted sightlines of the live audience.  Whatever, I found the blocking out of the action from time to time irritating.

     I was not ‘with’ this production and found many of the characters under-acted, with Stanley being particular difficult for me to take.  Blanche was the clear ‘star’ of the production, but I felt that much of her performance was caricature rather than character study.

   Having said that, I enjoyed the production, though I would much rather have been in the audience!  The set was excellent and the production brought out the humour of the piece as well as the tragedy.  A thoroughly enjoyable depressing experience!

From today the wearing of facemasks is mandatory in public spaces where physical distancing is impossible.  Although their use in ‘sport’ is not required, I think that it will be necessary to carry one whenever I go on my bike rides just in case.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 66 – Wednesday, 20th May

On the Port Ginesta side of the Paseo I noticed a police car awkwardly stopped in the middle of the road.  As I approached I saw that the police were speaking to a grandfather who had his small Viral Assassin with him, clearly out of the allotted time slot for such things.  Unfortunately, I did not see any movement on the part of the police to leave their car and give a multa to the offending adult.  Still, it was encouraging to see that they were not letting flagrant ignoring of restrictions pass.

     In fact on my bike ride this morning I saw more police cars than usual.  There were four or five on the Marine road, but none at the Gavà part of my ride, so I took advantage of the absence and added the Gavà loop to my cycle.  I felt very virtuous at the end of my ride, which is more than I can say for my bum.  I have not idea how the more dedicated cycle riders manage 50k or more.  They must either have buttocks like hardened steel or they are dyed in the wool masochists.

On a rather more elevated note, the Lyric Hammersmith is going to screen a version of A Doll’s House by Ibsen for today only.

     I was tricked into first reading Ibsen by the enticing title of his play Ghosts that I rather expected to live up to its Gothic promise.  I enjoyed reading the play, in spite of their being no ghosts of a variety that I could shiver to and I also entirely failed to pick up on the unstated, but essential component of the narrative of the play, syphilis.  Given the fact that the main plot of the play passed me by, I now wonder what it was that kept my interest!

     Ghosts is one of those plays that I have seen where different productions have given me entirely different views.  The first live production of Ghosts that I saw was played as a serious tragedy, while another that I went to see with my mother in the Sherman Theatre in Cardiff, was played as a comedy.  And both worked.

   The same thing happened with two productions of Death of a Salesman that I saw in relatively quick succession.  The first, again in The Sherman, left me feeling depressed and border suicidal, while the second in the West End left me with a happy smile on my face.  All four of the productions I should add were well produced and exceptionally well acted and I knew both plays well through academic study.

     The Lyric’s production of A Doll’s House is set in late C19th Calcutta (is it still ok to write the city like that?) and is listed as an adaptation of the text so it will be interesting to see how far the writer and director depart from the original.  But it got good reviews and this is an opportunity not to be missed.  It is only available from 2.30pm to midnight.

     I don’t know if this is true, but I was told that all West End productions lodge a ‘reference’ video of their productions with the National Theatre Museum and the videos or films are available for academic study.  Given that copies of play no longer have to be registered by law with the Lord Chamberlain’s office so that the Recorder of Plays can authorize them for public showings, it would be a criminal lack of intelligence to let the unparalleled collection of plays in Britain be wasted by not continuing some sort of archive.

     Perhaps in the future, theatres will make a video of their productions to augment their takings from on-line views.  Some Opera Houses and theatres have productions live streamed to cinemas around the world, but on-line could be (perhaps given the virus ‘must be’) one of the financial ways forward to keep, oddly, live theatre alive!

     I know that plays do not translate directly to film and a play in a theatre is altogether different from a film but, as my father was fond of saying, “anything is better than nothing” and a theatre audience, even given a long run, is in total tiny compared with a single showing on line.  Perhaps this virus will prompt a whole new generation of ‘theatre goers’ who take their pleasure on line!

The confusion, disinformation, misdirection and outright lying continue to confuse the ‘back to school’ impetus of governments in Spain and in the UK.  It does seem to me that without adequate testing and contact tracing there can be no safe way of returning to school.

     Blair did make the point that the children of the rich and privileged will have been ‘educated’ during the lockdown and the missed school for the underprivileged not only in terms of education but also in nutrition cannot and should not be ignored.  However, the solution to the problem of inequality is not to put teachers in the firing line and allow them to die.  I do realize that the ancestors of the public school boys who run the country probably had no qualms as they drew up their plans for the battles of The First World War, but one rather hoped that we had progressed somewhat during the last century!

     I do not trust the government in England to have due care and attention when it comes to restarting schools.  The politicians who run the government are in place because they subscribed to the self-harm of Brexit in spite of the overwhelming evidence that such an action would be disastrous.  We should always remember Cummings “Let them die!” as the modus operandi of the Conservatives.  “Money above lives” always has, and always will be their mantra.

     I am sure that there are ways in which schools can be opened with a liberal application of the fruits of the money tree that the Conservatives found to combat the virus – vegetation that was signally absent during the years of austerity and which made the present situation so much worse than it needed to be.  Smaller classes; more teachers; more school building; better facilities – all the things that teacher unions have been asking for, pleading for, for years!

     Let us never forget that this government has deaths on its ‘conscience’ and they must be held accountable.  I do not want to see the mortality total swollen with avoidable deaths of colleagues.

More and more people seem to be taking advantage of exercise time, especially more and more cyclists, but you get the sense that the people who are out are getting progressively freer in the way that they are treating the virus.  On the beach the construction of various kiosks has begun, though I think these are for the renting of sunbeds rather than the beach cafes that we have each summer – but they are a sign that Castelldefels is gearing up for the influx of visitors on which the town depends.

      I do not think that there is convincing evidence that the warmer weather will kill off the virus, so I really fear about what is going to happen in the future and the way that things are going and the general attitude of people a second spike in numbers of people infected buy the virus is almost unavoidable.

The free performance of A Doll’s House in the Lyric Hammersmith was very much an archive performance and lacked the polish of the NT Thursday performances, but the artistic director made the type of filmed performance clear in her introduction.  It is still very much worth watching and, at the time of writing, you have three and a half hours left to watch it for free.  You should!

     Tomorrow A Streetcar Named Desire.

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 65 – Tuesday, 19th May

The Tuesday People Syndrome was in full operation this morning as I took my bike ride.  I first observed this phenomenon in my local swimming pool and had my suspicions confirmed by the lifeguard: more people turn up to exercise on a Tuesday morning than on any other day of the week.

     I have considered, like Holmes, writing a ‘short monograph on the subject’ but will content myself with a few fugitive thoughts here.  Although weeks are no longer normal in the same way that they were pre-virus, many of the assumptions made about the qualities of individual days still persist, in spite of living in different times.

     Even without the Boomtown Rats, Mondays are dread days, being as they are not only the first working day of a normal week, but also the bummer of a day after the relative freedom of the weekend. 

     The weekend itself is actually composed of two days, but not Saturday and Sunday.  Friday after work is the first part of the weekend and the whole of Saturday may be regarded as absolute weekend, but Sunday evening has to be considered part of the working week as that is the time that you worry about the things you did not do during the weekend that you have said to yourself before the start you would absolutely complete and you are consequently unable to enjoy the latter part of Sunday in a true ‘weekend’ way.  Early Monday morning is consequently a later part of the working week than its nomenclature would suggest and the resentment at having started the working week the night before makes one disinclined to exercise.

     Wednesday is mid-week and therefore is the tipping point towards the weekend and freedom.  Thursday is the ‘going out in the evening because it will be too crowded on Friday’ and, even if you don’t actually go out, the fact that you could have gone out is enough to make the day bearable.

     TGIF speaks for itself and it is difficult to make the day bad, though some have tried.  I am vividly reminded of one glorious year where I had a free period last period on a Friday!  How better to end the week?  I lost that free period on a regular basis to give cover for other classes.  For the entire year!  That illusory free period and the morning checking of the cover list to see that, yet again, the period had gone actually made the day a misery. 

     The other case was in my last school in Catalonia, where the powers that be decided to call a weekly staff meeting every Friday after the end of the school day!  Luckily this horrific piece of inconsideration was instituted after I had left, but if I had been forced to attend, it would have precipitated my leaving anyway.  Those of you who have not endured the purgatory, no, infernal hell of educational staff meetings in Spanish schools can only guess at the empty soul-destroying horror that involvement inflicts.  For me it would have poisoned the whole weekend.

     And, while we are at it, that same school called a staff meeting for a Saturday morning!  Saturday morning!  I did not immediately resign, though I made my feelings patently clear.  As I told anyone who would listen, if the meeting was so important that it had to be held on a Saturday morning, then it should have been important enough to have it during the school day with the pupils being sent home early to make it possible!  During the whole pointless meeting, I did not smile once or contribute unless directly asked a question.  I fumed for the entire three hours (!) that it took and left immediately when it ended without speaking to anyone.  Just typing about it, I can re-texture my fury, not only at the meeting taking place at all, but also at the attitude of my colleagues that allowed it to go ahead without armed insurrection.

     Which brings us to Tuesday.  Tuesday is a day whose distinction is that it is not Monday and therefore not tainted with the misery of first day of the week.  It is far enough for the weekend for that period of happiness to be a vague memory and it is not yet at the tipping point of the week either.  It is a day when Things Can Be Done, when the depression of Monday has been shaken off, the weight of the week has not yet fallen on frail shoulders and there is still an illusory strength to encourage activity.  So, it is a Tuesday when the resolution to exercise is at its strongest and when intention is likely to result in action.  Therefore, the number of people in the pool and, even in these odd times, the number of people on the Paseo.

     We will see if the numbers are the same tomorrow, or whether the reality (or suggestion for the Barcelona Metropolitan Area) have come back into play and the best of intentions get lost once again in the grind of the week!

Today is Catalan homework day.  I know that if I put it off for more than one day from the time that it is set, then I am likely to leave doing the work until the day it has to be sent in and that will be a panic rather than the mere chore that I am able to tolerate.  And I am writing about it here as a physical impetus to my intent!  Sad that I have to do such things to motivate myself, but it is the way I work.  I am not writing in my notebook so regularly at the moment during lockdown because the routine of swim/tea/write has been broken, and I have even stopped carrying my notebook in my pocket.  This is because I am wearing swimming shorts during the lockdown because they are more comfortable and easier to don, but weight in the pockets (that are decorative rather than functional) tends to drag the garment down – and I am not one for such impropriety!  Perhaps I should carry something lighter, it’s a thought – though as I am mostly indoors, at home, I am never far from writing materials.

Never let it be said that a mere lockdown stood in the way of my creative culinary genius.  Today at lunchtime I treated myself to pollo picado con papa en cubitos, perejil y curry de tienda de papas fritas that, being translated is, chopped chicken with parsley and diced potatoes in a chip-shop curry.  The latter ingredient was courtesy of my ‘Red Cross parcel’ from Poundshop, who knew you could get instant chip-shop curry granules?  Well, I do now.  I hesitate to use the word ‘delicious’, more ‘different’ and ‘interesting’ apply.

Now a little light sunbathing and then the dreaded Catalan homework!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 64 – Monday, 18th May

One of the key moments in the day is no more: our applause for the health and front line workers has now been terminated.  It changed the dynamic of the day, or at least the ‘start’ of the evening and, instead of departing immediately after the couple of minutes clap I set off a little later for my bike ride.

     The number of bikes seems to be increasing and we obviously outnumber the number of car drivers.  Who knows if this enthusiasm for the bike will last?  At the moment there is no real prospect for an early return to anything like normality, so the reign of the bike looks to continue for some months yet.

     As we are now in the majority it is easier to evaluate the behaviour of bike riders now that our numbers have increased so markedly.  Pedestrians are the worst road users by far and show a shocking lack of consideration, but cyclists are a close second.

     I suppose that the way in which cycles are ridden are functions of the fact that you do not need any licence to ride a bike and you have immediate access to busy roads with no training or knowledge – and it shows!

     ‘Professional’ bikers, i.e. those with the unflattering clothing, are the least likely to stop for pedestrians on zebra crossings or obey traffic lights if they think they can get away with it.

     But the key irritation is those bikers who ignore bike lanes, as though bike lanes are for the lesser breeds.  This is especially irritating when there are two bike lanes separated from a pedestrian path and yet some bike riders insist on weaving their way among the pedestrians.  Of course, the same thing is just as irritating when the pedestrians decide to invade the bike lanes!

     My pet peeve with cycles though, is the use of lights.  On cycling home this evening out of over 160 bikes that passed me, only 8 had lights on, whereas all the cars had their lights on.

There were only two Viral Assassins (kids) blatantly out of their time zone, but many more bike gangs of teenagers who must be desperate after weeks of isolation to get back to the usual social intercourse of youth!

     As far as I can understand the latest instructions of the government, many parts of the country will be advanced to Level 1 from Level Zero, but Barcelona will still stay at Level 0.  It is my understanding that it covers not only the city of Barcelona, but also the province of Barcelona, in which case my city of Castelldefels will also be included in the highest state of lockdown.

     The President is trying to get an extension of the State of Alarm for another month when this one comes to an end.  As is usual, the PP and the fascist party are trying to get it truncated.  It will be interesting to see what happens – though I am prepared to do my own sensible thing if I feel that my safety is not being considered (when has it ever) by government!

The Catalan video lesson was ok, with one or two problems with the picture freezing, but I was the only student in the class again.  I have told the other members of the class about these video lessons, but the response has not been there.  I have been given homework and the next lesson is next week.  Who knows how long this term is going to last?  But I think that the next lesson might well be the last.

     We shall see!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 63 – Sunday, 17th May

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!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 62 – Saturday, 16th May

A lie-in today!  A quick visit to the bathroom at 7am and a return to bed and the next two and a half hours whisked itself away in a series of complex and no doubt character revealing reveries on that border land between sleep and wakefulness.  This did however mean that my window of legal exercise was somewhat truncated.

     One of the advantages of lockdown is the economy of dressing because I am nowadays fully dressed in six items of apparel: 2 sandals; 1 watch; 1 pair of glasses; 1 T-shirt; 1 pair of shorts-type bathing costume.  This means that after a more than usually cursory wash, I was dressed in seconds.  Pausing only to set Moppy off on her vacuuming sequence I was out and off on the bike.

    There were quite a few people around, especially on the beach and I wondered how many of them were near their homes as the seconds were ticking away before the next tranche of people were entitled to claim the streets and beaches.

     I cycled down as far as the end of the beach Paseo and then returned on the coast road, passing well-spaced queues at bakeries as I returned.  For the last part of my cycle home I re-joined the beach Paseo to check up on the people who were there on my way down.  My anticipation of exasperation was somewhat stymied by the obvious diminution of numbers of exercisers and the appreciable increase in the more obviously elderly section of the population.  In which, of course, I do not place myself, as there are over five months before I can claim entry into the most senior category!

     I was a little over the limit by the time I got back to the gate of my home, but I passed no police and, anyway, there are richer pickings for them on the beach.

     This evening, as long as the weather holds, and there is bright sunlight at the moment, I will have to go for a more substantial cycle to make up for my sloth in keeping to my bed this morning.

     I am also lucky in that I can walk around the communal pool at any time to augment my exercise regime, though it does get somewhat tedious and I feel as I make circuit after circuit that I must look like one of those nodding donkeys that Dickens described in Hard Times as it did the same thing again and again, as being “in a state of melancholy madness”.  This picture is not helped by listening to In Our Times on a Radio 4 podcast and alternatively chuckling and giving a little grunt of satisfaction as another element of knowledge is momentarily added to my store!

     Each time I go out on my bike I am acutely aware that it is a substitution for my pool swim, and not a satisfactory substitution.  Although I look forward to the time when swimming is allowed again, I find it difficult to imagine how they are going to make it safe.  I know that the authorities have said that normal disinfecting techniques in well maintained pools should deal with the virus adequately, it is difficult to see how physical distancing will be safely maintained, especially in the pool itself.

     Our pool has five lanes and with the usual numbers of swimmers, lanes have to be shared.  It is difficult not to bump into your partner swimmer from time to time, and even if you don’t you will be passing each other in close proximity each time you complete a length.

     I suppose that with five lanes, you could have five swimmers and swimmers could book a time to swim?  What about children?  They do not keep to limits and anyway I do not want to be anywhere near them.  It is a difficult problem and one that will not be solved easily I think.  Though I can’t wait to see how the management of the pool suggests a solution.

     It is easy to say that we have not thought the New Normal through – the government certainly has not – and I think that we will be constantly surprised at how many of the aspects of our Old Lives will have to be modified to take account of the virus.

     The National Trust has said that in the future all of its properties can only be visited by those who have a specific ticket, the Old Normal of Just Turning Up is no longer something that you can do.

     My season ticket for the Liceu and the opera season has now been cancelled.  All of the shows that I was due to see have been, at best, postponed.  But, without a vaccine, how is the seating of patrons going to be done?  Will seats have to be reallocated allowing an empty seat between patrons?  How will the audience be brought in and allowed out, without the usual crush?  Will we have to wear masks during the performance? 

     The average age of an opera going audience is substantially older than the general profile of the population and therefore the majority of patrons are in a much higher risk category – how is this going to affect the future of opera?      

     Already the financial hit that the Liceu must have taken has to be substantial and serious; given the other demands on state coffers, how will the Liceu justify extra tax income to keep it alive?  And theatre?  And orchestral concerts?  And ballet?  And museums?  And art galleries? 

     All of those companies must be in dire financial straits!  And what about the corporate sponsors?  They must be feeling the financial pinch as well.  It is a perfect storm of threat for anything cultural. 

     The cultural future is bleak.

Meanwhile on the technological front: my little cleansbot works, but the sensors which tell it is falling off the mattress are not working and so it duly falls.  I am prepared, at the moment to believe that the fault lays in my reading of the instructions – or rather my skimming them and hoping that a few presses of the on button will sort everything out.

     I will obviously have to be a little more careful in my application of haptic hope!

I listened to the Minister for Education and even I was flabbergasted.  He spoke as if the past didn’t exist.  As if the way that the Conservatives have treated teachers and education over the last decade was a completely different sphere of reality.  His mealy mouthed concern for the under privileged was almost comical, his desperate sympathy for kids who were at risk was ludicrous.  What the hell does he think that his government has been doing over the past ten years?  Has the way in which the government has cut social services, education and everything that austerity was used as an excuse to decimate resulting in the present state of the NHS, Care Homes, and . . . it is really hard to express the level of disgust that I feel when someone is speaking and expecting me to forget their destructive history in the very area that they are taking credit for and trying to get me to be sympathetic about their ‘supportive’ attitude!

     Given the way that the Conservative Government has mismanaged virtually everything about the virus so far one can have absolutely not confidence whatsoever about their ability tao make the return of kids to schools anything but a disaster.

     The level of testing in the NHS is inadequate, why should we expect it to be anything other than inadequate in education.  Why should teachers risk their lives when there is little evidence to suggest that there will be little more than empty words of support rather than actual pieces of PPE and availability of sufficient testing?  With the very real threat of kids being asymptomatic there would have to be extensive testing on a regular basis and efficient contact tracing before any reasonable return to school could be contemplated.

     Yet again, I have reason to rejoice in the fact that I am retired!